Falling Like Snowflakes (36 page)

“What do you want from me?”

His words were barely audible over the mournful tune blaring from his cell. Some country singer crooning about heartbreak. He knew the feeling all too well.

He continued gazing up at the stars.

Maybe he
should
go after her. Maybe he hadn't tried hard enough. Maybe she was missing him as much as he missed her. Finding her would be a challenge, but that had never stopped him before. Surely she'd left a forwarding address with the post office.

But no. That's what her psycho, controlling late husband would have done: hunt her down. She needed to be free to make her own choice. And she had.

“For the first time in my life, I want to be completely free. I have no idea what that even feels like.”

The words tore at his heart every time. He mentally cursed Antonio for all the damage he'd done. All the hurt he'd caused. Beau exhaled hard, his breath evaporating into the sky.

Every night. Every night he did this. He'd been so sure he was doing the right thing, giving her space. But the longer she was gone, the more he questioned himself. He was weary of the battle. He wanted a sign. A burning bush would be nice.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked the heavens.

A flash drew his eyes, and he caught the tail end of a shooting star as it faded into the darkness. He closed his eyes and made a wish. But when he opened them again, nothing had changed. The
music played on, the outbuilding waited behind him in dire need of purging, and he was still alone.

Kate spotted the sign for the Christmas tree farm and slowed her car. Her heart was like a bass drum in her chest, pounding, reverberating through her whole body. She turned into the drive and wiped her sweaty palms down her legs.

She'd gone over the words dozens of times on her trip here. What she'd say, how she'd say it. But now that the moment was near she feared they weren't enough.

She checked the clock and saw it was after seven. She should've called. It was a Friday night. What if he wasn't even here?

What if he's out with another woman?

After all, she'd been gone six weeks, and she had no hold on him. She'd left of her own free will. Maybe she was too late. Maybe his feelings had faded as quickly as her car's exhaust had evaporated behind her.

The thought made her insides twist painfully. What if she was in this all alone? What if twenty minutes from now she'd be headed back up north with dashed hopes and a broken heart?

No, she refused to believe that.

She rounded the curve and climbed the hill, her heart finding a new speed.

It had started snowing as she'd entered town, big, fluffy flakes that splashed onto her windshield. Remembering the snow globe, she'd taken the flurries as a positive sign. Now the symbol seemed as flimsy as a sheer curtain.

She crested the hill and coasted down the incline. At the
bottom the fringe of her lights caught on something red off to the side. Beau's truck was parked in front of the outbuilding. A dim light shone through the window, illuminating the windowpane she'd broken. The front door was cracked open a sliver.

Surely he wasn't working this late. He never worked after supper, not even during the busy season. She slowed and pulled in beside the truck.

A moment later she got out of the car and approached the building, her boots crunching in the fresh snow. She stopped at the door to catch her breath, quaking in her boots. Her heart beat violently against her ribs, her breaths came quick and shallow, and her mouth felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. She drew a deep breath.

God, help me
.

The door creaked quietly on its hinges as she pushed it open. Flurries blew in, swirling wildly around her. She scanned the dank space and found it empty. Her gaze caught on the open back door. She was about to move forward when he appeared in the doorway.

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes falling on her, then widening. His mouth slackened. He pulled earbuds from his ears, his gaze raking over her.

She wondered if he liked her as a brunette, and her hand went straight to her hair.

He was a welcome sight in his sturdy work coat and jeans. His hair was a bit longer, tousled from the wind. His jaw sported a five o'clock shadow, and his eyes looked fathomless in the dim light.

Everything she'd rehearsed flew out the window at the sight of him, standing there looking so beautifully rugged. Suddenly she wanted him to know her. All of her. She could trust him with all the pieces.

“Eden,” she blurted.

He blinked as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing, hearing.

“My name . . .” Her voice wobbled, and her heart felt as if it would burst from her chest. “It's Eden.”

He stared at her for a long, agonizing moment. Her chest felt like it might collapse on her. Her lungs constricted, obstructing her breath.

“Why are you here?”

She gave a nervous laugh. “I was in the neighborhood?”

His lips didn't even twitch. His eyes had lost that shell-shocked look, leaving nothing but inscrutable shadows.

She shifted. Her legs felt like jelly, and her stomach had tightened into a hard knot. She swallowed hard, licked her dry lips.

“Okay, I was—obviously that's not true.” An empty feeling expanded in the pit of her stomach. She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I had all this planned out, and now I don't remember any of it. But I had to see you. Talk to you.

“I thought leaving would give me my freedom, Beau. And in some ways it has. I can put the cans away with the labels facing backwards, and I can let clothes sit in the dryer for two days if I want. I can read novels and buy junk food and go over the speed limit. I can fill the tub all the way to the top and run to the store without worrying what my mileage will show and turn the thermostat up to seventy-five if I feel like it.”

Beau's eyebrows lowered, and he cocked his head to the side. “So what's the problem?”

The tender notes in his deep voice heartened her. “The problem is . . . I'm free from everything but my own fear.”

He frowned. “You don't need to be afraid anymore. They're locked up. You're safe.”

“I'm not afraid of
them.
” She gave a wry smile. “I'm afraid of
you
.”

His eyes flashed. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know that. That's not what I—” She shook her head. “I'm not saying this right.”

Think, Eden. Where to start? At the beginning?

“When I first came here, it was hard to trust anyone. It was especially hard to trust men. But the more I saw you, the more I realized you were one of the good guys. You were always gentle and caring and giving. It was new to me. I guess part of me was falling for you even then. But I was safe, because you were taken. But then you broke up with her, and you kissed me . . . and nothing was the same after that.”

“For me either.” His voice rumbled deep and low, and his dark eyes softened.

“I didn't realize until I was in that cabin that I'd never have true freedom if I continued to let fear hold me captive.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I held back with you because I couldn't trust a man again. I was afraid of ending up right back where I'd been. But somehow, even knowing that, I couldn't stop it from happening. Even though I tried so hard. Even though I left . . . it happened anyway.”

He took a step, then another. He didn't stop until he was a touch away.

Her heart raced, and her breaths grew shallow. So close. She wanted to grab him and kiss those perfect lips.

“What happened, honey?”

She melted at the endearment, at the look in his eyes. “I fell in love with you.” Her words left her mouth on a rush of air.

Something flared in his eyes. He pulled off his gloves, his eyes never leaving her, and cradled her face. His hands were warm and rough against her cold cheeks.

“Eden . . .,” he whispered. “I love you too.”

Her heart rolled over in her chest at the sound of her name on his lips.

He leaned down and kissed her. This was no soft, barely there brush. He took her mouth as if he was desperate for it. As if he'd thought he'd never taste her again. He pulled her against him, into his warmth.

She melted into his chest. Her fingers found the soft strands of his hair at his nape and lingered there. Her lips parted on a breath, and he took full advantage. She gave back, move for move.

She couldn't believe she was here, back in his arms. She'd missed him so much. Missed this. The way he made her feel. Wanted. Loved. Cherished.

He pulled back a moment later, and she whimpered in protest. But he didn't go far. He rested his forehead on hers, his eyes closed. Their breaths came raggedly, the space between them heating up fast.

She was home. His arms were home. She felt it all the way down to the warm marrow of her bones. She cupped his scruffy jaw, delighting in the rough scrape against her palm. She pulled in a breath of him, savoring it.

“If I'm dreaming, don't wake me.” His voice was as thick as honey.

“You're not dreaming.” She traced the shape of those lips. They were damp and plush and too far away. “You have really nice lips. I missed them.”

One side of them kicked up, his eyes opening. “Is that all you missed?”

She couldn't count on both hands everything she'd missed about Beau. About the Callahans, about Summer Harbor. It was a
special community. She felt at home here, and it would be a great place to raise Micah. She wanted that for him.

“I'm coming back to Summer Harbor.”

Beau pulled her closer on a sigh. “I am dreaming.”

He probably imagined her falling right back into the Callahan household as though nothing had changed. But she wasn't ready for that. She needed time to stand on her own two feet without the threat of danger hanging over her head. She needed to get to know herself, remember who she was.

She pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Beau . . . I need to get my own place. I've started my website business back up, and I want to make it viable. I need to work on this fear issue I'm having. It's not going away overnight. This is still . . . scary for me.”

He cupped her face, his eyes piercing hers. “Take all the time you need, honey. I'm not going anywhere.”

A smile tilted the corners of her lips just before he brushed it away with his own. She couldn't think anymore with his mouth on hers. With the tingly heat moving up her limbs and settling down deep inside. She was suddenly seeing a whole new side to all this freedom, and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

Epilogue

H
urry up.” Beau gave her rear end a pat as she got in the passenger side of his truck. “We're going to be late.”

“Late for what? Nothing's even open.”

With a furtive smile, he closed the door and walked around the truck.

She buckled her seat belt, rubbed her sleepy eyes, and slumped against the seat. Micah had spent the night with her dad, who'd moved to Summer Harbor last month. He'd found a good job at the elementary school, doing custodial work.

When Beau opened his door the dome light came on, bright against the predawn sky. He turned the engine over and spared her a smile as he set his arm across the seat to back from her drive.

“Are you going to tell me why you're dragging me out of bed at the crack of dawn?”

He winked. “Patience, my love.”

They rode through the darkened town, quiet and empty on the summer morning. There was a little life at the harbor as lobster-men got an early start on their days.

Just past the harbor, across from the rocky beach, he slowed
and parallel parked across from the boardwalk. Zip, zip, and he was tucked into the space between a car and a delivery truck.

“Show-off,” she muttered.

“You can't be good at everything.”

He opened her door, grabbed a quilt from the back of the truck, and pulled her toward the beach. When he found a spot covered with thick sand, he stopped and spread out the blanket.

“It's a little early for sunbathing,” she said.

“I don't remember you being so grumpy in the morning,” he teased.

“I didn't have time for coffee.”

He lowered himself to the blanket and pulled her down in front of him. She settled against his chest, his warmth driving away the chill in the air.

“Madam . . .” He handed her a thermos she hadn't noticed before.

“Oh, bless you.” She poured the hot brew into the lid, took a sip, and shared with him. Much better.

The smell of the brew mingled with the tangy scent of sea air. The cool breeze fanned her skin, pushing her hair from her face, and the water lapped the pebbled shore. The clouds on the horizon were beginning to brighten, the black fading to dark hues of blue.

A couple months ago she'd mentioned that she'd never watched a sunrise. He seemed intent on being there for all her firsts. The first time she rented a house. The first time she opened her own bank account. The first time she swam in the ocean. She embraced her freedom, and Beau was there, supporting her however he could.