I shake my head. It’s really not.
“Whiskey,” I murmur, not looking at her face.
“You’re drinking at night?”
I nod.
She sinks down onto the couch beside me, wrapping me in her arms…and her legs. We fall together softly on the cushions. Her cheek rubs my forehead.
“Bear.”
And I love her for it, for just saying that. She doesn’t ask me why, and so I want to tell her. I just need to have her sweet words whisper in my ear that it’s okay. Because it’s not. It’s not okay, and it will never be. That’s why I have to have Gwen tell me that it will be. It’s why I need her so much in these moments.
“Did you know you’ve been dreaming, too?” I whisper. Around 3 a.m. every night.
I get her back to sleep. That’s why I’m not sure she knows.
She whispers, “Yeah.”
“You talk about how cold it is.”
“I know.” I feel her lashes tickle my cheek, stopping when her eyes shut. “I think what happened made me think about the wreck.”
My heart aches. “Tell me.”
I hear a sob catch in her throat and want to bleed, it hurts so fucking much. “I just … sometimes I dream I’m lying there. And it’s so cold. I’m by myself. I think about how I was by myself in the hospital and Elvie left. It just makes me feel alone, I think.” Her voice is soft and broken, but she doesn’t outright cry, which makes me love her more.
I hug her tightly, kissing up her throat and all along her jaw. “I love you, Gwenna White. I’ll always pick you up and carry you away.”
I mean it so damn much.
I do it now. I lift her in my arms and spread a blanket in front of the fireplace, and I show her, in the warmth, how much I love her.
I’m going to find a way to fix this. When I do, we’ll have our happily ever after. I’ll do anything I have to. I lie awake beside her that whole night, seeing snow.
SIXTEEN
Barrett
December 31, 2012
11:07 p.m.
All the whiskey in this place won’t be enough. I can drink myself into a blackout, and it still won’t numb the raw throb in my chest. I know for sure now that the bar has got that heavy, amber glow and everything feels slow and surreal. Like an old home movie.
There’s this girl on the movie. Snowflake girl. I watch her dancing with her friend, Red Lipstick. Snowflake never looks at me while she’s in motion, but between songs, as she drags a palm over her silky copper hair or presses her lips together, her eyes drift to me. Once they touch down on me, they feel warm and patient. As if she’s drinking in the corner table scene. She’s just observing. I wish she’d come closer. To the table.
I polish off the rest of my scotch and feel my body shift. I blink, then turn my head. Oh. Cause Blue is elbowing me.
“Think we could put a sandwich on that redhea
d?”
I blink a few times, trying to focus on his words. “Sandwich?” I rub my numb face.
“More like bagel,” Blue murmurs. “I could take her from the back and you could fuck her cunt. She would be the cream.”
I chuckle. “Fuck.” I moan, shaking my pounding head. “That’s bad. Even for you.”