Chapter Twenty Barrett
Chapter Twenty
Barrett
It was snowing.
Normally I might not have noticed, but for the fact Lily mentioned it the other day.
They were big, fluffy flakes, some of the largest I’d ever seen, and with the kids upstairs doing their final packing for their trip to Colorado for the weekend, I was alone in the kitchen, drinking my coffee, watching the snow fall through the windows.
Was she watching it too?
I tried to imagine texting her.
Just wanted to make sure you knew it was snowing.
I did know that, she’d say, because my eyes work, you dumbass.
“Maybe not,” I muttered, taking another sip of my coffee and keeping my phone far out of reach.
My parents had extended their stay by a couple of days once they knew Griffin and Ruby were coming. Both of their boys under one roof . . . My mom had been crying all morning.
Happy tears, of course. When I tried to think about Maggie and Bryce not speaking for years, unwilling to be in the same place, it made my heart sink for what my parents must have felt.
I pushed up out of my chair and wandered over to the slider, fighting that ever-present feeling of guilt over the time we’d spent angry at each other.
For a few moments, I stared blankly into the backyard, watching the kids’ footprints from yesterday fill with the snow falling lazily from the sky. Movement from next door caught my eye, and my head reared in shock.
Lily was flat on her back, unmoving, in the yard.
“Shit,” I mumbled, slamming my mug onto the counter and jogging to the back door to grab my boots and my coat. “Mom, I’ll be outside,” I yelled. “Can you make sure the kids finish their packing?”
I didn’t wait for her to answer, bolting out the door instead, my heart clanging noisily behind my ribs as I ran through the side yard and yanked open the gate that led into Scott and Patty’s yard.
Her head lifted slightly at my noisy approach, brows furrowing. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
I stopped short, my chest heaving, air coming out of my mouth in visible puffs as I tried to catch my breath. “What’s wrong? You’re flat on your back. I thought you passed out.”
Lily blinked. “Oh.” Then she laid her head back down and stared up at the sky. “No. I’m fully conscious, I promise.”
If the ground opened up and swallowed me, I wouldn’t have been sad about it.
I licked my lips and rubbed the back of my neck, staring at her profile.
A black hood lined with fur was pulled up around her face, her hair spilling out the edges.
The blue looked brighter than usual against the perfectly white snow.
“Are you . . . are you okay?” I asked quietly. The loud breathing had stopped, but my stomach was still twisted with worry.
Finally, Lily blinked. Her jaw tightened and then relaxed. “It’s snowing,” she said quietly. “I’ve never seen it snow before.”
“So you’re going for a fully immersive experience, then?”
The edge of her lips curled up, but only for a moment. “I guess. Have you ever lay like this? Just to watch?”
“No. I, uh, I can’t say that I have.” I rubbed a gloved hand over my jaw and thought about it. “Maybe when I was a kid.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “Do you remember it?”
Briefly, I glanced over at the slider, making sure no one was watching.
Or recording it on their phone for later.
For the time being, we were unnoticed, so I took a few steps closer, tugged my hat out from the pocket of my coat, and pulled it over my head.
Lily’s eyes darted in my direction, then shifted back to the sky when I eased down onto the snow next to her.
We didn’t speak, and I felt my blood pressure drop as I stared up into the sky.
Everything was white. The spindly arms of the trees were visible in the edges of my vision, but other than that, everything was void of color.
Trying to focus in on the snow as it fell almost felt impossible.
The flakes landed on my face, but I didn’t brush them away immediately.
Her hands were on her stomach, so I mirrored her pose, and even though my legs were going to freeze off and my testicles had likely taken up permanent residence inside my body, I’d lay there next to her for a while.
“I don’t ever take time to do stuff like this,” I admitted.
“Most people don’t.”
I turned my head to the side and studied the finely carved lines of her profile. Her cheeks were flushed from cold, as was the tip of her nose. “But you do?”
Lily didn’t answer right away. “Not as much as I should.”
There wasn’t a sound anywhere around us—no kids out playing, no dogs barking, no cars on the street.
“What do you see?” she asked in a hushed voice.
My throat was dry from staring at her, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. I shifted my gaze away, moving it back to the sky. There was probably some poetic way to describe it, but when I tried, everything fell just a little short.
“I’m not . . . I’m not good at saying things in a pretty way,” I admitted roughly. “But it feels peaceful, I guess.”
Lily made a small humming noise, her chest expanding on a deep breath.
“What about you?” I asked. “What do you see?”
Her face stayed perfectly still, and I wasn’t sure she’d heard me. Wasn’t sure she was planning to answer. But then she closed her eyes, and it wasn’t until her brows furrowed and her lower lip trembled that I knew something was wrong. That even if she was physically fine, Lily wasn’t okay.
“Magic,” she whispered. Her eyes opened, and they were glossy with unshed tears, but not a single one fell. “I see magic.”
She held her hand up, and when a few fat, fluffy flakes landed on her glove, she brought it closer to her face.
Watching her study them was fascinating, and it tore me apart how badly I wanted to know more about her.
Wanted to know what was making her so sad.
Wanting to fix it. Take it away, if I could.
If she’d let me.
“It’s like the sky is breaking apart,” she said. “Doesn’t that sound scary when you think about it?”
“I guess.”
“It’s not, though. Each piece that pries away from the others, it’s different from the one next to it. Isn’t that incredible?”
I looked back up, watching the mesmerizing descent of the snow. She was right. It did look like that. Slowly, I turned my face back toward her. “Beautiful.”
She didn’t say anything right away, and that was fine with me.
I wondered how long it would take for frostbite to set in when you lay on the snow wearing jeans. My calves were numb. So was my ass. Hers couldn’t have been any better since she was wearing leggings.
But I was fairly certain that, until she moved, I wouldn’t either.
“I’m surprised you’re out here.”
“I thought you were unconscious. If I didn’t come out, then I’ve got even bigger problems to contend with.”
“I’m not, though.” She looked over at me. “Unconscious.”
“Appears that way.”
After a moment, Lily turned and stared back up at the sky. “And you’re still here.”
My lip hooked up in a wry grin that she didn’t see. “Is that your way of asking me to leave?”
She blinked. “No.”
I brought my gloves up to my lips, cupped them around my mouth, and blew. Lily mimicked the action and made a small humming noise when the warmth hit her fingers. “That’s nice. I don’t know those tricks.”
“You’ve never gotten cold anywhere else?”
“Not like this.” She blew on her fingers again. The gloves she wore were black, and too thin to be out in the snow. Her fingers were probably already frozen solid. With a sigh, I tugged mine off and laid them on her stomach.
“Wear those,” I told her.
She glanced at me. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” I gave her a quick look. “Unless you foresee this exercise going for the next couple hours, in which case, neither of us are prepared.”
Wordlessly, Lily wiggled her fingers into my larger gloves and sighed when they were covered by the thicker, warmer material.
From inside the pocket of her coat, her phone started ringing, and she bolted upright, the movement so startling that I almost jumped.
Using her teeth, she yanked my gloves off and answered the call, bringing the phone up to her ear. “This is Lily.”
As I sat up, I couldn’t hear who was on the other line, but watching Lily’s face was enough. The color drained from her cheeks, and her nostrils flared slightly, her eyes unblinking as she listened.
“Okay,” she said. “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
For a moment, she stared forward, even as her hand slowly lowered into her lap. The hood had fallen off her head, and her hair was slightly tangled in the back from however long she’d been lying in the snow.
“I hate that dog,” she whispered, the slightest catch in her voice.
My brow flattened. “What happened?”
She let out an incredulous laugh, then stared up at the sky again. “He’s dying.” She rolled her lips together and her chin trembled. “What a jerk.”
I sucked in a breath and angled toward her. “Where is he?”
“I brought him in to the emergency vet late last night. He . . . he hadn’t peed or anything in days.
No eating. No drinking water. They told me to go home and get some rest while they monitored him.
” Lily sucked in a sharp breath and pinched her eyes shut.
“Oh God,” she said, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob before it escaped.
There was no time to question whether I should lay a hand on her back or even attempt to comfort her in any way, because with quick, jerky movements, she stood, snow falling off her back as she did. I joined her, watching her face carefully in case she crumpled.
“I have to go,” she said unsteadily. “They . . . they told me I have to come in if I want to say . . .”
Then she covered her face with both hands and took great, big shuddering breaths to try to compose herself.
Moving slowly, I reached out, wrapping my fingers around her wrists until her hands were away from her face. “Let me come with you,” I said slowly. “Let me help you.”