Steady as the Snow Falls (16 page)

“Not now, Ozzy.” Beth pushed at his hand, and it slid away. Her anxiety grew. A drunken Ozzy was one to avoid.

“You don’t need to touch her to talk to her,” Jennifer informed him, moving closer to Beth.

Lifting his head like it weighed a hundred pounds, Ozzy fought to keep Jennifer in his line of vision. “You.” He pointed a finger at her. She slapped it down. “You stay out of it. This is between me, and Beth.”

“Go home, Ozzy. You’re drunk.” Beth took the sleeve of Jennifer’s brown jacket. “Ready?” she asked her friend, tightening her grip on the fabric like Jennifer was the kite that would take her away from the ground and Ozzy.

“Yeah. I’m ready. Pizza, followed by ten hours of sleep, is calling my name.”

“Beth, don’t walk away from me,” Ozzy yelled after her, sounding broken. “Beth!”

“Ignore him.” Jennifer steered Beth forward when she faltered. “He knows how to weaken your resolve, and all he has to do is act helpless.”

“I feel bad for him,” she whispered.

“I know that, and so does he.”

“Beth, I need you. Please talk to me. I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry for everything.”

Beth’s footsteps were leaden, making it harder to step from him. He was hurting, and it scratched at her heart. She briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, continuing forward. He wasn’t hers to worry over anymore. Beth needed to worry about herself, and what she needed. And it wasn’t Ozzy Peck.

The sound of something heavy falling to the floor hit Beth’s ears, and she whirled around, ignoring Jennifer’s words to keep moving. Ozzy knelt on the floor, his head lowered with his arms wrapped around it. His shoulders shook, and at first she thought he was crying, but it soon became apparent he was laughing. Beth stayed where she was.

“Sweet little Beth Lambert. Predictable Beth,” he said in a shaky voice. “I never thought you’d be the one to end it. Since when does Beth Lambert have a backbone? Fuck my life.” Ozzy laughed louder and flipped to his back, his eyes trained on the ceiling.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and Beth gritted her teeth. That was her, easily and wrongly pegged by everyone who thought they knew her.

“He is loco,” Jennifer muttered. “Can we go now?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “Let’s go.”

“What the hell is going on out here?” Deb demanded, jogging from the back office.

“Ozzy fell.” Beth met Deb’s gaze as she made her way to her son. “He needs a ride home.”

With a frown twisting her mouth, Deb hunkered down by Ozzy, placing an arm around his shoulders as she looked at Beth. “Go home, Beth. I’ll take care of my son.”

Rooted in place with shock by the blame she saw in Deb’s eyes, it took a moment for Beth’s feet to work. She numbly followed Jennifer from the bar, Ozzy’s laughter following them.
Parents always choose their kids over others
, her mother once told her. She’d meant it to be encouraging, but it seemed like a barbed torch to Beth. Turned the wrong way and it burned, turned another and it stabbed.

What if the child did something unforgivable to someone else? What then?

Beth blinked and walked into a dark, chilly night.

EIGHT

BETH KNEW SHE must be wearing remnants of the weekend when she stepped into the reading room Monday afternoon and the first words out of Harrison’s mouth were, “You look awful. I take it you had an inspiring weekend.”

He stood near the windows as he so often did, reminding her of a self-caged bird. Without replying, she studied the dark coloring beneath his eyes, wondering at the strict line of his mouth. He held himself stiffly, and Beth searched his expression for an answer to his behavior last week. Harrison looked worse than her, worse than the last time she’d seen him. It wasn’t anything startlingly obvious, but something was off.

“That good, huh?” he continued, his eyes trained on hers.

She could already tell the two of them were different from last week. While she was researching and thinking and coming to a decision, maybe he was doing the same. Beth was more emboldened, and he seemed more open, watching her in a way he hadn’t previously allowed himself. There was a deeper hitch to his mouth, a stronger light in his eyes. She lifted her chin, refusing to look away when their gazes collided.

“My ex-boyfriend doesn’t understand what the ‘ex’ part means,” was the only answer she supplied. “And you?”

Harrison’s mouth twisted and he replied dryly, “My parents decided an impromptu visit was in order.”

“Your parents were here?” Beth’s frown flipped into a faint smile. She’d been worried for nothing. Harrison had been in good hands, although from the way he was acting, it hadn’t been an enjoyable experience for him. “That’s great. I didn’t think you saw them much.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.” Beth trained her gaze on the melting snow outside the window. Her parents were everything, and without them, she’d be lost. They were the rocks that would shatter her free when she was locked inside a glass-built room of her own insecurities. “Why don’t you?”

“They don’t treat me the same as they used to, and it bothers me. I’m an invalid in their minds.”

She nodded, her fingers tightening on the manuscript she carried. Beth looked at Harrison. “I understand.”

Harrison tilted his head. “Do you?”

Beth swallowed. “I think so.”

“I’m not sure you can.”

In the silence that trailed his words, she shifted her feet and moved the stack of papers from under one arm to the other. 

“What’s that?” His eyes flicked down.

Feeling self-conscious and second guessing the great idea that came upon her yesterday, Beth felt her face go red. “Oh. Well. This…” She paused as his dark eyes drilled into hers in that impatient way of his. “This is the first story I wrote. You wanted me to read a book to get to know you. I thought maybe you’d be interested in reading something of mine to get to know me. Keep in mind, it isn’t any good,” Beth added when his expression went blank.

“Why would I want to get to know you?” he asked quietly, without malice.

“Maybe you don’t. But if you do.” Beth set down the papers on the couch and crossed her arms in the fire of Harrison’s gaze. A glint of humor shone in the depths, made her senses spring to attention.

When Beth was with Ozzy, she felt weaker. Meek. Unsure of herself and what she wanted. In Harrison’s presence, it was the opposite. He expected strength from her, and that made her want to be strong. His attention on her was heavy with the unknown. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Was it anything like what she was? Each time she looked away, something brought her eyes back to him. Beth stopped fighting it and unabashedly watched him.

“I have questions for you.” When a single eyebrow quirked, she continued. “For the book.” Beth inhaled. “It’s not bad out today—the snow is melting, and the temperature is in the forties. The sun is shining. Would you be okay with going for a walk and talking?”

His shoulders relaxed, and after a short pause, he nodded. “Yes. I’m okay with that.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

“You sound surprised.”

She gathered up her hair and swept it over one shoulder, her fingers needing a task. “I always think you’re going to tell me no.”

His eyes watched the gesture, seemed intrigued by it. “Yet you ask anyway.”

Beth looked away from his piercing eyes, feeling a smile curve her lips. “Yes. I do.”

They didn’t speak as they put on their coats and boots. Harrison’s stocking cap fell from the pocket of his jacket and Beth reached down to retrieve it before he could. He outstretched a hand for it, and she tugged it down over his head, leaving a wave of reddish-blond hair visible on his forehead. Beth pushed the locks back from his face, her fingers tingling from the contact. His cheek muscles flexed as his eyes bored into hers. The shared look spiraled through her, bringing fire through her frame.

She waited for him to reprimand her for touching him, but he only turned toward the door and stepped outside. Beth let out a deep breath and caught up to him near the side of the house. A smile, small and triumphant, claimed her face. That was huge—that he let her touch him and that he didn’t say anything about it.

Snow melted and dripped from the roof to form piles of slush on the ground. The sun reflected off the white pathway, blinding and dazzling. Harrison took them on a manmade trail through the snow that led behind the house and in the opposite direction of the hill they’d ascended the previous week. Beth hopped over a puddle of melted snow and landed in Harrison’s path. He paused, his head cocked, and then stepped around her.

“I have the beginning of your story ready for you to read,” Beth said after a moment of arguing with herself over whether or not she should say anything about it.

A slash of dark brown eyes cut open her senses before moving away.

Fighting the beat of her hyper pulse, she went on to say, “It’s all of ten pages, but it’s a start. It’s in my vehicle. I’ll get it when we go back.”

Harrison didn’t respond.

“Aren’t you at all curious about what I wrote?”

His shoulders lifted and lowered.

“What if it’s completely inaccurate, or…” Beth’s eyes narrowed, and she felt the curve of a wicked grin take over her mouth. “What if I call you Butt-monkey in it?”

Harrison stumbled to a stop, his eyebrows shooting straight up as he looked at her. “Butt-monkey?”

Beth laughed, nodding vehemently. “Yes. Butt-monkey.”

“What the hell is a butt-monkey?”

Head cocked, she squinted her eyes and tapped an index finger to her chin as she pretended to think about it. Beth dropped her hand and met Harrison’s bemused gaze. “I guess it’s someone irritating, like you.”

“
I’m
irritating?” Incredulity put emotion and volume to his voice.

Beth was enjoying his reactions, feeling light and happy as she teased him. She’d surprised Harrison, and he couldn’t get the walls up fast enough to shield himself from her. Unpredictability, Beth decided, was perfect warfare to use against an unsuspecting man.

“Especially when you’re all—” Beth lowered her face, twisted her expression into a scowl, and said in a deep, sandpaper voice, “—don’t do this, don’t do that. Don’t stand there. Don’t say that. Do read this book. Don’t look at me like that. Do call me a butt-monkey.” She skipped forward, away from a shocked Harrison, who stood motionless, only his eyes moving, and only to blink.

Beth laughed, and she laughed harder when he blasted a glare in her direction as he shot past her. “I do not sound like that,” he said stiffly, his long legs widening the space between them.

“You might even be listed under ‘Butt-monkey’ in my phone!”

His shoulders tensed, but he kept moving.

“How am I supposed to ask you questions when I can’t keep up?” she called after him.

“I guess you’ll have to learn how to keep up with the butt-monkey,” he replied.

With a smile stamped to her face, Beth attempted to match her pace with his long strides, but she had to jog to do that. It didn’t take long for her to get tired and lag behind, watching as he got smaller and closer to a forest of tall, gangly trees. Frustrated, she flung her arms out wide and let herself fall back into the snow. She hit the cushioned ground with a soft thump. It was oddly refreshing, watching air leave her mouth and nose in bursts of white, the sun above, trees in the distance, and Beth resting in her cold bed.

She closed her eyes and patted the powdery floor, counting off two minutes before talking. “Sorry about calling you stupid the other night.”

“Did you do that?”

Beth’s eyes popped open, and Harrison came into focus above her. “The snow…I called the snow—never mind.”

“Here I thought maybe you’d added a ‘stupid’ to the ‘butt-monkey’.” He sat down beside her and set his arms on his knees, his face dipped in somberness. “My dad used to take me for walks in the woods all the time.”

She went still, not even the coolness of the snow deterring her from hearing what Harrison had to say. The light moment was gone, replaced with a deeper ring of clarity.

“He’d point out the different kinds of trees and which leaves belonged to them. We’d collect rocks and anything else that was interesting to me. Find water, wade in it. Try to catch fish with our hands. Sometimes we’d see a deer, and we’d just stand there and watch it until it took off.” Harrison’s pale throat waved as he swallowed.

“We’d spend hours and hours out there. We didn’t talk a lot of the time. We just walked, and looked around. Enjoyed the moment. Ate turkey sandwiches and drank apple juice. It was simple. My friends were going on trips and playing video games and getting all this expensive stuff, and my dad and I walked in the woods.”

Harrison packed snow with his large hands, his head down. “I didn’t know it at the time, but my dad was teaching me something great then.”

“What?” she exhaled, carefully sitting up. Beth had to remember this conversation. This was important.

He tossed the snowball in the air, caught it. “To have solitude is a blessing, always rely on yourself before anyone else, and appreciate the beauty around you.”

She got it, finally. “And that’s what you’re doing.”

Beth held out her hands, and he dropped the misshapen snowball into her bare palms. It stung her skin, melting from the heat of her hands. She watched as it got smaller and smaller until it was a tiny pool of water within her palms. Beth opened her hands, and it splattered to the snow.

“Yes.” He got to his feet and offered her a hand, the significance of the motion one most people would overlook.

Beth took his hand before he changed his mind, feeling the strength of his fingers as they gripped hers and helped pull her to her feet. When he went to withdraw, she held on tighter. Harrison lowered his eyebrows, an unspoken warning on his lips. His hand was touched by snow, the skin dry and calloused. He was strong-willed, but even the most self-sufficient of men needed to know someone unobligated to care, could. Beth didn’t want to let him go, not ever.

At some point since she’d met him, she’d unconsciously claimed him as hers, and hers he would stay.

“Don’t,” he said, soft as a light breeze, but as fatal as a tornado.

“Don’t what?”

His voice shook as he told her, “I don’t want anyone in my life.”

She squeezed his hand, refusing to let his gaze look away from hers. “Then why am I here?”

For one catastrophic instant, he looked at her in such a simple, raw way that it splintered her heart and flooded it with feeling. He was a man, and she was a woman, and when his camouflage eyes became unveiled, Beth saw something in them that she couldn’t ignore. It was the look of a man who saw what he craved, longed for, needed. Harrison stared through her eyes like she was already his and she wanted to give herself to him. She would, if he asked. Beth didn’t care about anything but making Harrison realize he could still have things like friendship, love, purpose, happiness.

Even if his time on this earth was already foretold by fate, he could be well loved for the remainder of it. No life should be regretted, or forsaken, not even a compromised one. Especially not a compromised one.

But then Harrison stepped back, and the enigma was once more in place. He was Harrison of the shadows, a man she didn’t know. A man who didn’t want anyone to know him. She let go of his hand, and felt the emptiness ricochet through her arm. Beth sensed him retreat into himself as they walked, aware of the distance he purposely put between them.

“The book you had me read,” she hesitantly began. “Why that one? What makes it your favorite?”

He took a deep breath, his shoulders lowering with the exhalation. “The kid was afraid,” he said in a low voice. “He didn’t know his dad; his mom died. He ran from anyone who tried to help him, because he was scared to trust others. He was alone. Homeless. Penniless. He had nothing.” Harrison glanced at her, his eyes throbbing with emotion. “He had every reason to give up, and he never did. He had the worst odds, and he still won.”

A twisted ghost of a smile haunted his visage. “I want to be like that kid. He’s a fictional character set in the eighteen hundreds, and I wish I could have the courage he does. Talk about messed up.”

“Everyone’s scared of something,” she told him, looking ahead as they walked. Beth couldn’t look into Harrison’s eyes right now. It would break something in her.