Winter Kisses by A.C. Arthur Read Free Book Online

forget. On most days she figured it was best not to forget—that way she wouldn’t be likely to make the same mistakes twice. On other days she wished for something to come along and wipe her memory clear—like an IT tech would a hard drive. But Monica had no such luck, never did. Sometimes she wondered if she’d just been born in the wrong place at the wrong time.
    That seemed awfully selfish considering the privileged upbringing she’d experienced. Her mother, Noreen Lakefield, came from a long line of strong black women in South Carolina, while her father, Paul Lake-field, came from an industrious family who’d made their mark in the steel industry. Her mother was the nurturer, there was no doubt about that. Anything that had to do with the three Lakefield girls was Noreen’s business and hers alone. Paul rarely made time for the daughters he’d been saddled with despite his desires for sons. It was from that seed that a disconnect between Paul Lakefield and his daughters had grown. With Deena, the youngest, her father just had no patience at all. Then again, no one in the family really had a lot of patience for Deena’s impulsive nature, though they’d all been shocked when she had invited them to her wedding last July. Monica was still getting used to the idea of her youngest sister now being a wife, a mother and published author.
    The middle child, Karena, Paul tended to ignore completely. That sometimes happened with the middle child, and it had bothered Karena so much she’d taken it out on their mother. Now it seemed Karena and Noreen had reconciled while Karena and Paul came to their own terms of acceptance. It would seem that now it was Monica’s turn, only she didn’t want a turn. Her father was a taskmaster where she was concerned, always had been. As the oldest she was expected to be the strongest, the smartest, the best at everything she did. It was an unspoken doctrine that she subscribed to just the same. For years Monica struggled to make sure she did everything right in her father’s eyes, everything acceptable. Her reward for those efforts was to never hear an angry word from Paul Lakefield about herself. That should have been enough, but not hearing an angry word equated to not hearing anything positive, either.
    Sighing, Monica turned onto her other side, clutching the pillow between her arm and her head, pulling her knees up close to her chest. She felt like a child but noted the comfort and safety most children experienced was missing. Monica hadn’t felt safe, ever. Comfortable? She didn’t know the meaning of that word. To be comfortable to her somehow meant she was complacent, settling for things as they were, and she didn’t want to do that. Not ever again.
    She opened her eyes, tried staring at the ceiling because obviously keeping them closed wasn’t blocking the memories out. Her heart clenched and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from sighing again, or Lord forbid, whimpering. Show no weakness, another one of her mottos. If the enemy knew your weakness, he’d easily exploit it. Wasn’t that what happened before?
    Turning again, she realized it was useless. She wasn’t going to get any rest tonight. At home she survived on about four hours’ sleep each night. When she wasn’t in her own bed, it was more like no hours’ sleep. So, throwing back the covers, she sat up, pulling her knees up to rest her forehead on them. She was too damned old to be going through restless nights and harboring fears that couldn’t possibly hurt her anymore.
    If she were totally honest with herself she’d admit that her restlessness tonight wasn’t entirely due to the haunting of her past. A very pleasant distraction was keeping her from sleeping, as well. And he was right down the hall, sleeping on the gorgeous but probably not-too-comfortable couch. But did he really expect for them to share a bed? They