Prologue
The night is dark. The road is white. The snow-caked trees that crowd the shoulder dangle icicles that click as wind dives down the famous ski slopes, somewhere in the pinkish clouds above us.
The weather radio said the snow will keep on through tomorrow night. A New Year’s blizzard, maybe twenty inches. This is Breckenridge in winter. Frozen to a crackle. Cloaked in white.
Gwenna’s breath and mine plume silver in the dark that hangs like a stage curtain over the curved road. Snow is falling fast now, caking our jacket hoods and freezing in a sheen of sparkles. Her coat is the color of a plum—or blood. The thick down softens her form. She reminds me of an animal: one sweet and small, in need of shelter.
I must be more head-fucked than I thought, because she turns around, her cheeks red, her lashes wet with snowflakes, and I realize she’s gotten about twenty feet ahead of me.
“Bear?” she says.
Her large brown eyes are widened slightly—in affection or alarm? Her mouth twitches, then presses into a small, red line. She doesn’t speak, and there’s no need. I know her so well. I can see the worry on her face, the burden of her fear and grief a notch between her brows.
“Come walk by me and hold my hand.” She pulls her left glove off and reaches for me.
I oblige her. Anything she wants. With two long strides, I’ve closed the space between us. My hands are ungloved. I told her I forgot my gloves, but that’s a lie. I need to feel the sting.
Her hand folds around mine, and Gwen gasps.
“Barrett! Brr, I need to warm you up…” She pulls my hand into her jacket sleeve, gripping it tightly. “Crazy man.”
She laughs, despite the somberness of our affair. Her eyes, wet ink in the moonlight, shine with love—for me.
“Hang on.” With her right hand, she unzips her jacket. “Come here…”
She takes my hands and pulls them into her jacket, pressing them atop her sweater, underneath which I can feel her heart beat.
Her face tilts up to mine, despite the driving snow. “You can’t be leaving gloves at home. It’s so cold. You’ll get frostbite.” Behind her words, there is a smile—a small, lopsided smile she gives me almost all the time. A dreamy smile I love more than my life.
I try my best to return it.
Her boots shuffle in the snow as she tries to step closer to me. “It’s so freaking cold. Even with a-all these layers.” She shivers, and I pull a hand out of her coat, tucking her close to me and rubbing my hand over her back.
“Better?”
“Yes!” Her voice trembles with cold.
I press her hood over her head and rub behind her neck, down to her shoulder blades, right where she likes.
“I love you.” Her eyes peek out from behind the faux-fur lining her big hood. I see them crinkle with another smile.
“I love you too.” I pull her close again, and God, I’d like to keep her here forever, locked against me like a splint.
“My Bear,” she whispers.
I swallow. We’re not there yet, but I’m starting to feel frozen—on the inside. A deep breath does nothing to thaw me. She rubs my arms through my jacket and smiles at me again. This smile is curious, perhaps concerned.
“Your nose is red,” she croons.
Her sweet voice doesn’t thaw me either, but I still smile. “Yours too.” I hug her close once more, but even that can’t pierce the ice that’s thick inside me.
We walk on, along the road’s edge, through a deep snowdrift I worry will spill into her boots.
Somewhere miles away, I hear a lone firework.
She takes my hand again, searches my face as we walk. “I’m glad you came with me. I’m feeling better than I ever have before. Just knowing that I’m not alone, you know? Jamie used to come with me, but you’re different. I feel…healed.”
My jaw clenches. I force my lips to curve up at the corners. “Good.” I know my eyes on hers are earnest. “That’s good,
” I murmur.
She comes closer to me. We are leg to leg, shoulder to shoulder. I’m walking off the road, so she seems as tall as I am.
“Bear?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
I blink. “Of course.” I stroke her hand. “I’m supposed to ask you that.”
She smiles a little, tight and sad. “I am.”
We’re almost to the bend where the road curves into a copse of trees when pops like mortar sound above us. The clouds are too thick to see the fireworks. They glow faintly—green, pink, gold, purple, blue.
Gwen’s face looks delicate and beautiful in the changing light. Her eyes hold mine, and she smiles.
“This is kind of nice.”
I nod. Her gaze shifts upward, and I struggle to swallow.
Fuck.
I shut my eyes. I think about her under me tonight, about the way she leaned up when we both finished and wrapped her arms around me, bringing me down on her.
“Sweet Bear. Something’s bugging you. I’m going to find out. Unless you decide to tell me. Hmm?”
A snowflake melts on my temple, and I can feel the ghost burn of her lips there.
“I love you. You know that, right? You’re mine—and you will always be mine. Just because I said so.”
“Bear?” Her voice right now is high and sharp. Her hand is on my arm.
I keep my eyes shut, even as the moisture freezes on my cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice is softer now. Inviting. Understanding.