Chapter Three
Tess
We’ve barely stepped outside into the blustering cold when Cole tosses himself into the snow like a kid about to make snow angels. “Come on, get down here with me.”
“I’ll get all wet.”
“And then you’ll dry.” He waves his hand toward me. “Come on. You’ve been up in the mountains for almost a year. Have you made snow angels yet?”
No, I haven’t made snow angels yet, though I’m not sure it was on my list of things to do. My list had more prominent things written out, like finding a man, falling in love, getting married.
Snow falls heavily around us, and the air is cold, though we’re blocked from the wind on both sides because of surrounding buildings.
Usually, at this time of day, there’s a buzz in town from people shopping on Main Street behind us.
But right now, the roads are quiet, and there’s a stillness that’s a little bit eerie.
Cole stares up at me, his dark brown eyes wide and begging as though he really wants me in the snow with him.
Why do I believe it? Why is it so nice to feel wanted?
My chest tightens.
What am I about to do?
I lean back on my ass and lay next to Cole. The cold is everywhere. On my back, my legs, in my hair. I’m sure I’ll regret every second of this moment when I’m inside tonight with no dry clothes, shivering for heat. Right now, though, it’s kind of peaceful.
He stares at the sky, his arm close enough that it brushes against mine. “What do you think?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, watching him as snowflakes fall and melt against his nose.
“About this? The snow falling.”
A sweet girl would probably have some adorable sentiment to share here. I have more defensive sarcasm. “I thought we already decided that was awful. It’s what’s trapping us here.”
“Outside of that, though.” His big hand brushes mine, and though I know he probably doesn’t have the same fantasies about me as I have about him, I still wonder if the brush is intentional.
“What do you think of the sky right now? Let everything else go. It’s just you and the universe. What do you think?”
I really don’t want to feel anything. Cole is a walking red flag. The kind of guy every article on the internet warns you about… and yet, my chest fills with more and more warmth with every word he speaks.
Ugh… I swore I’d never be this simple.
“I don’t know,” I say, still staring up as frozen flakes melt against my cheeks. “It’s cloudy.”
“But how does it feel?”
“Since when do men care about how something feels?” I snap without thinking, feeling a little bad afterward. “Sorry.”
What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I put my guard down for even a second?
He doesn’t flinch, but his gaze lingers on me with a patience I haven’t yet learned how to give.
“That’s okay.” He smiles and shrugs. “I figure most men don’t ask about feelings because they’re afraid of the answers.
But I guess… I want to know you more than I’m afraid of getting hurt.
So, how does it feel when you look up there? What does it make you think about?”
How in the hell is this the same guy that wandered into the bookstore earlier with nothing on but fireman pants and suspenders?
I didn’t imagine him to also be the introspective type.
Maybe all that smoke inhalation messed with his brain.
I mean, did he just say he wants to know me?
I make a mental note to ask him about his brain injuries later.
For now, I stare up at the gray expanse above as flakes drift down quickly, trying to decide to laugh, run, or believe he means what he says.
“I guess… I guess it feels heavy,” I say, my chest tightening with every word. “Like the weight of everything is piling on top of me.”
Silence ensues, and I wish I could suck every word back into my mouth and swallow them down again.
Why isn’t he answering? Why did I open up? This is stupid!
I shift in the snow, then glance toward him. “This is dumb. I thought we were supposed to be making snow angels or something.”
“We are.”
“No, we’re talking about our feelings,” I snap and sit up, the icy snow melting under my butt.
“Why is it hard for you to talk about your feelings?”
“Why is it so easy for you?”
He exhales, a fog of breath rising into the air. “It’s not easy. I just stopped pretending it was a weakness to feel things.”
I dart him a quick glare. “And look what that got you? Jail time. That’s what happens when you let yourself feel too much.”
He rolls toward me, his head resting on his hand. “Why did you really leave the city, Tess? Doesn’t seem like you’re interested in actually connecting with someone.”
“Right,” I roll my eyes, “because you know me so well.”
“Believe it or not, you’re pretty easy to read.”
“So read me then.” I shrug and stand from the snow, dusting my bottom off. I can’t tell if I’m really cold or wet.
“Okay.” Cole stands with me. Why is he even taller out here?
“Well, you’re stubborn and guarded because someone hurt you, but every once in a while, the walls you’re trying so hard to hold bend a little, and I see this girl.
This girl who wants connection, who wants love, but has no idea how to get it. ”
I bark out a laugh. “Wow. You’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”
“I do.” He stares at me, but I look away, fearful he’ll see the truth in my eyes. “Come on,” he scoops my hand in his again, “let’s head up to Main Street. We can see if the hardware store is still open. I need a fuel filter for the heater.”
“You want to walk in this? That’s like a quarter of a mile, and there’s so much snow. We’ll freeze.”
“We’re just walking behind the buildings.
It’ll be fine. I’d bet the diner is still open too.
We can grab some real food along the way.
This time of year, the lumberjack special hits the spot.
” He grins. “You said it yourself. We need something other than banana bread, and you’re right. I’m starving.”
I want to ask what the lumberjack special is and frolic through the snow up to Main Street hand in hand, but instead I yank my hand from his and cross my arms over my chest as snow falls heavily around us. “Nothing is going to be open. There’s a snowstorm, remember?”
“We’re still in town, so others will be too.”
“No.” I shake my head and turn back toward the bookstore. “If you want to go trudging through the snow for a treasure hunt, go ahead. I’m going to stay right here.”
The wind blows heavily, and he steps backwards into the snow as though he’s teasing me to follow. “Let loose. This is the kind of night memories are made from. You can tell all your city friends about the Christmas Eve you were trapped in a snowstorm with a crazy country boy.”
I hover in the doorway, torn between going back inside and playing it safe or following this idiot into the storm.
Why do I feel pressure to follow him? Why do I kind of believe that everything will work out?
Why do I assume I’m actually safe with him?
He’s done nothing to make me believe any of that.
In fact, the man is a fugitive accused of a violent crime.
“Suit yourself.” Cole turns and walks into the storm, his footsteps already filling up with snow. “You can tell your friends you stayed inside instead. That’s a much cooler story anyway.”
The longer I stand devoid of motion, the heavier the door becomes, and the heavier the door gets, the more I want to let go.
“Fine!” I say, stomping after him. “We go straight to the hardware store, and that’s it.”
“Well,” he grins and grips my hand tight in his, “we have to stop at the diner too. We need food. That’s kind of nonnegotiable.”
He’s saying words, but my mind is focused on his hand. His big, rough, warm hand.
I assume it means nothing. Of course it means nothing.
He just gave me a lecture about how closed off I am.
That doesn’t sound like the words of someone interested in another person.
No, this is about safety, about not losing each other in the snow…
though right here, it doesn’t look so bad.
Right here, in the cove of buildings, the flurries are more pretty than they are scary.
I should let go.
He should let go.
We should both let go at the same time, but neither of us does.