Coming in from the Cold (18 page)

* * *

Callie dropped Willow off, but couldn’t stay. “I have to get home before the roads get worse.”

“Thank you for coming with me!” Willow beamed at her friend.

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Callie said.

It would be dark in half an hour, and even snowier. So Willow didn’t go into the house. Instead, she went into her garage where the feed bags waited. She had already knocked one of the fifty-pound bags onto a kiddie sled. All she had to do was pull it to the barn.

Willow headed out across the yard, the wind whipping her hair all around. When she reached the barn, she opened the door and dragged the chicken feed inside. “Coming through, girls,” she said as the sled began to catch on their wood shavings. She scooted forward, toward the feed bin.

This next part would be tricky.

Willow tipped the empty feed bin on its side. Then she tugged the rounded end of the sled into its opening. Moving around behind the sled, she grabbed the back and tried to lever it up, tilting the fifty-pound bag into the bin.

Instead, the plastic sled bent in the middle.

“Damn it,” she said. It wasn’t going to work. So she squatted over the feed bag and put her hands on either side.

“Can I help you with that?”

Willow whirled around to see Dane leaning in the doorway. There was snow in his hair. He’d grown a trim beard, which made his face look a bit older and more serious. His expression matched—it was grave and thoughtful. But it was still the same man who made her breath hitch when she looked at him. Those sharp blue eyes and long lashes looked back at her. And then he was moving toward her, the tips of his crutches landing in the wood shavings.

Too surprised to speak, Willow backed out of his way.

Dane laid his crutches on the floor. Then he righted the bin, bent his good knee, picked up the feed bag and dropped it in.

“Thank you,” she whispered, feeling rattled. “I’ve been trying not to lift…” She stopped, clamping her lips together.

He stood up slowly. “
Lift things,
” he said. Then his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Oh no. She felt herself trembling.

“Willow,” he began. Then he put one hand on the wall of the barn to steady himself. “Are you going to have a baby?”

Terrified of his reaction, she only nodded.

Slowly he closed his eyes, lifting one hand to his temple. “God, I’m so relieved.”

For a second she couldn’t say anything. “You
are?
” she stammered.

He nodded, looking unsteady. “Because…” he said. “Because I didn’t
wreck
you, Willow. You made your own call.” He tipped his head back with a sigh. “I said awful things, and you stood your ground.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision, and I don’t know if I did the right thing,” she said, hearing herself start to babble. “But my gut said I do want a child. The timing is awful, but I really do.”

The look on his face was so raw, so vulnerable that it startled her. “You’re impressive, Willow. You meet assholes right and left….” He shook his head. “Nobody breaks you. Not the idiot who left you, not me, not the jokers at the bar that night…” he cleared his throat. “Hang on. I didn’t even get to say it yet.” He bent over and plucked his crutches off the ground. Then he hitched a step closer to her.

She just stared up at him. She had to stop herself from reaching out to touch him, to acknowledge that he was really here, talking to her.

“Willow, I just want to apologize. Everything I said—I wish I could unsay it. I’m just so sorry I was cruel. You deserve so much better.”

At that moment, a gust of wind banged the barn door on its hinges, and the chickens stirred in fright.

Willow felt her heart in her throat. “Dane, a blizzard is coming and…” she was suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded. She’d been yearning—no—she’d been
desperate
for his apology. But actually hearing it was scary. The decision to cut him out of her life completely was a painful one, but also uncomplicated. Now here he was, his eyes begging. She didn’t know what to do with it.

“There’s more I need to say, Willow.” His voice was low. “Can we talk in the house?”

She took a deep, steadying breath. “Just…give me a minute.” She turned away from him, her heart fluttering. The chicken feeder was stocked and their water bottle adequately filled. “Hang in there, girls,” Willow called. “See you in the morning.” She pulled her hood back over her head. She followed Dane out of the barn, sliding the latch back into place.

* * *

Outside, the world was a darkening swirl. Snow coated every surface, and drifts began accumulating at the base of every tree. Willow went ahead of Dane, opening the door to her kitchen. She kicked off her shoes and went to sit on the couch, lighting the table lamp in the corner.

Across the room, Dane struggled to free himself of his one snowy boot. When he eventually came crutching toward her, she watched him approach, half thrilled that he wanted to talk, and half terrified of what he might say.

“Willow,” he said, hesitating before her. “You don’t have to look at me like that. I’ll never say a word against you again.”

She took a deep breath and then blew it out. “I think there were extenuating circumstances. Callie told me. What you thought you had…the genetic…”

He maneuvered around the coffee table, then sat down beside her. Slowly, he reached out, covering one of her hands where it lay on the cushion between them. “But I was nasty, Willow. I was mean to the only person…” he bit off the end of the sentence. “I can’t get the sound of it out of my head.”

She withdrew her hand, then crossed her legs, turning to face him. “I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?”

“I wasn’t careful, when I said that I was.”

“It happens. Usually to people who aren’t us.”

She studied him, finding his clear eyes steady. She wanted this Dane—the rational one—to be real and true. But she wasn’t ready to trust it. “Can I show you something I got today?”

“Anything.”

Even then, Willow hesitated. But his blue eyes were patient, waiting. She stood up and pulled the little stack of sonogram pictures out of her pocket, handing them to him. Willow could feel her heart pounding in her ears as he looked at first one and then the others.

“Wow,” he whispered, glancing up at her with wonder on his face. “I can’t believe it.”

“That was my reaction, too,” she admitted.

He laughed, holding the pictures closer to the lamp. “A tiny little ski-racing chicken farmer.” He let the pictures fall into his lap. “I have absolutely no experience with this. So I need to ask, how can I help you?”

The question made her heart race. “I…I really have no idea. I never thought you’d say that.”

Dane flinched. “That’s fair.”

“I guess…” She cleared her throat. “I’ve got it covered for the next six months.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “Willow, I’m going to be off these crutches soon.”

“That’s good.”

“Sure. But in a couple of weeks, I’m supposed to be headed out west.”

Oh.

Willow felt an unnameable pressure in her chest. Whether or not it was a sane reaction, the idea that Dane would go away forever made her unbearably sad. “I see.” She looked at her hands.

“Willow?” She looked up to find his handsome jaw set in a serious expression. “If you told me not to go, I wouldn’t.”

Her heart leapt, but she didn’t trust it.

His face was nervous. “I know I don’t really deserve it, but I have to ask, because I’ll regret it forever if I don’t. Is there any way I could spend some time with you?”

Hope began to bubble up inside her, but Willow tried to beat it back. There were still so many issues. “But I’m having a baby you don’t want.”

He shook his head. “Who
knows
what I want, Willow? For years I never let myself ask. I’m a big mess. But I just…You amaze me, Willow. Every time I see your face, I feel happy.”

“I…people don’t say those things to me.” There was a lump in her throat the size of New England.

“They should. And I wish I’d said it earlier. But I…I quarantined myself. I’ve
never
had a girlfriend, because I thought it wouldn’t be fair to her. That means I’ve never told anyone I loved her. I’ve never even said, ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
Christ
…” he broke off, rolling his eyes. “I’m really selling myself here, aren’t I?”

Willow couldn’t help it. She smiled. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve just spent the last three months trying to get over you. What do you want from me, Dane?”

He put a single finger on the back of her hand, and she felt it like an electric charge. “You know how some people have a bucket list? They want to go bungee jumping in New Zealand, or they want to have sex in an airplane bathroom?”

“Okay…?”

“Well, my bucket list is ass-backwards. I want to fall asleep on your sofa in the middle of a movie. I want to bring you a beer during commercial breaks. I want you to warm up your cold feet on mine.”

“I can’t drink beer, I’m pregnant.”

“Would you
please
come here?” He patted the spot next to him on the sofa.

Her heart skittering, Willow moved over to sit near him, her feet next to his on the coffee table.

Dane slid his arms around her, and she leaned back onto his chest. His body was sturdy and warm. He kissed the top of her head, and she pulled his arms tighter around her midriff. “You have no idea,” he whispered, “how happy this makes me. Just this.” He gave her a gentle squeeze.

She turned her chin, resting her cheek against his chest.

“The most important thing I want to say to you is this,” Dane said, his voice low. “Every time I walked away from you—since that very first morning—it was always because I thought I needed to. I handled everything very badly, but I only meant to protect us both. It’s just that there wasn’t any way to do that.”

“I’m starting to understand,” Willow said.

They were silent a minute, and then he said, “It’s hard for me, Willow. Even now, I’m trying not to hear a little voice in my head. The one that says—you’d better get away from that girl, you’re toxic.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t you dare love her.”

Willow’s heart beat double-time. “If you want to have a life, you tell that voice to move on now,” she whispered.

“I want to,” he said, with a shuddering breath.

Willow raised her head. There were tears spilling onto his face, heading for his beard. Without thinking, she wiped them away with her thumbs. “I’ve been trying to imagine what it was like for you. To live with the terrible dread of dying young.”

“It’s not just dying,” he said, his voice wrecked. “It’s
ugly
, Willow. A nasty wasting away. My father split because he couldn’t watch anymore.” He wiped his eyes. “So I told myself—don’t ever be close to anyone. For years I thought I was doing okay, living large and keeping everything to myself.”

“Until I screwed up your strategy.”

His arms tightened around her. “You flattened me, Willow. The day I met you was like doing a face-plant at eighty miles an hour.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I’m wrecked, and I’m rattled. But I’m not sorry.” He wiped his face on the back of his hand.

A silence settled over them both, but it was the good kind. She leaned back against him, while outside the wind howled and the snow fell into the encroaching darkness.

“What do you think happens next?” Dane asked in a low voice. “That’s a question I never asked myself before. I was always jealous of people who had futures. I didn’t ever stop to think that having one would be so complicated.”

She stroked his hand where it lay across her stomach. “Just breathe in. Breathe out. Then repeat,” she said.

He laughed. “I can try that.”

She turned her chin to face him. “So, which movie do you want to fall asleep during first?”

As she watched, a slow smile started on his lips and traveled all the way to his eyes. Then he put his nose in her hair. “I wouldn’t even care. You could pick.”

“You know,” she said, “there’s a little voice in my head lately, too.”

“What does it say?” His dimple appeared.

“It says,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “popcorn with extra butter.” She pushed his hands off her, standing up. She handed him the remote. “You see what’s on.”

They settled on an action flick. But Dane could hardly focus on the screen. He was too busy inhaling the strawberry scent of her hair and feeling the warm slant of her back against his chest. When she squeezed his hand during a particularly tense gunfight, he closed his eyes just to concentrate on the sensation of her palm against his. Whenever she shifted against him, his chest expanded with happiness.

The girl felt so good. The nearness of her was like therapy.

“I’m going to be so angry when they kill off that character,” she said, pointing at the screen. “The biker dude.”

“Hmm?”

“He’s going to bite it in the end,” she said.

“You’ve seen this?” he asked.

“No. But that character is a classic overcompensator. He’s the sort to take some horrible risk during the final showdown.”

He chuckled into her hair. She reached back and swept it over one shoulder, exposing a creamy stretch of her neck. It was right there, under his nose. If he stretched forward a mere inch, he could nibble on it, just a little bit.

No way. Don’t wreck it.

The plan for tonight was just to be with her. And it was a good plan. Impulsive sex had caused them plenty of trouble already, and he was willing to wait. So Dane ignored the swelling in his briefs and leaned back on the couch. On screen, the hero crept through a darkened parking garage, a single bullet left in the chamber. From the nearby darkness came the sound of a gun being cocked, and the hero froze.

At this moment of carefully constructed cinematic tension, Willow scooted higher up on Dane’s chest, her gorgeous neck even closer to his lips. Dane’s dick punched against his pants, and he sent it a silent warning.
Dude, we really aren’t going there tonight.

As soon as the action hero pulled off another daring escape, Willow tipped her head back, then turned her chin, her lips almost touching his ear. Then she exhaled, and her warm breath took him from merely chubby to rock hard.