My Heart For Yours (Sinful Secrets 2)

I tried to soothe him with my hands and words. He put his face against my neck, and I just held him for the longest time. Even now, with him beside me, dry-eyed and seemingly okay, my heart still feels a little bruised.

“Remember what I said,” I tell him as we near the store.

His eyes slide to me, then back to the road.

“We can’t be who we used to be. You’re someone new. I’m someone new. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if it matters that I know what happened to me here. I’m here with you. I met you, and if you think about it, that’s amazing. That it even happens. Two people who are right for each other meet up, in a world with billions of people. How unlikely is that? I just want to park in front of the store and go inside and then walk to the spot, and when we get back in the car, I think this will be over for me. Really. I’m going to leave it here. In Breckenridge. And when we leave, we won’t come back again on New Year’s.”

His hand finds mine and squeezes—hard.

“I love you,” he rasps.

“I love you.”

The parking lot is dimly lit. The air is thick with falling snow. The place is quiet: only four cars, and all parked near the back of the small lot. Employees.

“Care to go inside with me?”

He nods, and kisses my cheek. I decide when we get back into the car, I’ll do one final thing before I put all this behind me: I will tell him every detail of that night.

In fact, maybe I’ll start my story when we reach the point of impact.

It can only be a good thing. Good and healing.

TWENTY-FOUR

Barrett

December 31, 2015

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 velvet 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 about twenty feet ahead of me.

“Bear?”

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 th

e time. A dreamy smile I love more than life.