Steady as the Snow Falls (25 page)

Harrison’s reply was long in coming, and quietly spoken. “I wasn’t lonely. I was intrigued.”

Somewhere in the room, a clock ticked off the seconds. Beth went still, letting his words settle around her heart. Realizing what they meant. They were not here because of pity, because of unwanted isolation. They were not together in this room by default. She was here because she wanted to be, and Harrison wanted her to be. The blackness weaved around them, but it wasn’t cold, and it wasn’t fearsome. It was alive, dark, consuming.

“I do need you,” Harrison whispered finally, brokenly, reaching for her. His arms, threaded with muscle, went around her and Beth gasped at the feel of them, immediately hugging him back in case he decided he changed his mind. For so long, for so long she’d wanted this physical connection with him.

Harrison breathed in, forcefully. He breathed out, erratically but sure. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.”

She felt his sad smile in his voice. “You already have me, Beth.”

“I want all of you,” she whispered, her voice cracking and tears filling her eyes.

Harrison touched his forehead to hers. “You do. I’m yours.” His fingers gripped her shoulders, squeezing her and he was still not close enough. Beth wanted all of him to mesh with her, she wanted them to be as one. She wanted all of him, even the sick parts.

Never enough, it would never be enough.

She didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud until Harrison’s grip tightened and released, until he said, “It might not be enough, but it’s the most I can give you.”

Beth shook her head. “No. You can give me more. You can let me sleep with you, and you can hold me. And…you can kiss me.”

She walked to the bed and laid down, wondering if Harrison would follow. The sheets were still warm from his body, and it was like being embraced by Harrison’s arms. Twelve ticks of the clock sounded before he walked to her. He stared down at her, his body lined with moonlight and shade, a medley of dark and light to make up a conflicted man. Guilt and desire fought, despair and hope warred, and at the center, was Harrison. Being tugged in a million directions, never sure of himself, never sure of anything. He could be sure of Beth.

“Beth.”

She focused on his eyes, twin beams of life in a white face. “Yes?”

He went to his knees beside the bed and lassoed her in his arms before resting his cheek on her stomach. Beth held her breath, let it out slowly. He was holding her. Harrison was touching her of his own volition. His skin was hot against hers, his exhalations a wisp of seduction in the form of air.

His arms tightened. “I love you.”

Harrison whispered it, and she was glad. It didn’t mean she heard any less emotion in it, it didn’t mean it meant any less.

“I love you,” he whispered again.

The truth was more likely to be whispered than shouted.

Already her limbs shook, and her heart paused. Already she felt the monumental cocoon of those three words around her being. Beth moved her hand from the bed to the crown of his head, letting her fingers sink into the softness. Her smile deepened. His hair was as silken, and as coarse, as she’d imagined. She trailed her fingers down the curve of his ear, and went back to caressing his hair.

Beth had known he was falling as assuredly as she was.

“I’m sorry I tried not to.” He pressed his face to her ribcage.

She partially sat up, bringing her arms to his back and her face to his hair. “Thank you for finally inviting me in. Please don’t feel guilty about it.”

He took a sharp breath, his body relaxing as he released it. “You say I inspire you, but you don’t know that you do the same for me.”

Wrapped around one another, they sat in the dark. Still. Quiet. Just breathing. Just feeling.

When a crick formed in Beth’s neck and her arms went numb, as if sensing her discomfort, he moved from the floor to the bed, his chin held up by a fist as he watched her. Beth stared back, wanting the moment to never pass. Wanting time to stand still, to keep them locked in this span of discovery. His hand trembled as he touched her lips; his fingers were little pulses of sensation as they swept across her cheekbone. Harrison touched her face like he was afraid she would disappear if he pressed too hard.

Beth’s chest hitched with each inhalation, and the air that left her lungs was raspy and loud. He’d barely touched her and she was ignited. Her lips swelled, aching to know his. She felt like she’d been waiting her whole life for something, and this was it. Anything she’d ever wanted lessened when compared to Harrison.

He leaned down, and with nothing but his lips touching hers, Harrison kissed her. It was slow, and full of tenderness. Yearning. He tasted sweet, and warm. He kissed her like it would be the last. He kissed her with reverence. Harrison’s mouth was shaped to accommodate hers, and the kiss tugged at her stomach, liquid heat swimming through her veins and womb.

When memories faded, and the years were too many to count, when a thousand books had been read and a thousand walks taken—when instances of beauty and life were melded into one smile to signify them all—Beth would remember the night Harrison Caldwell decided to let himself love her. It would shine among a million stars of amazing moments, and it would gleam the brightest. And she would smile, a secret smile that held all of her love for him in the bend of it.

Beth pulled him to her, and he caught himself with a hand on either side of her shoulders, his face all she could see. His palms pressed into the mattress, creating fissures around Beth. Glinting eyes, lips heavy with desire. Beth held his face in her hands and his eyelids shut, his cheeks fanned with pale eyelashes.

“You cleaned the trophy room,” he muttered.

A frown formed between her eyebrows and she laughed quietly, her fingers dropping to his wrists. “What?”

Harrison’s arms convulsed with the strength it took to keep himself from melting into her. He looked down at her, his features hard with emotion. “That’s when I knew—that I was—that I could love you. That I was falling in love with you. You did that for me. You forced me to remember something I was trying to forget, something good, something I shouldn’t have wanted to forget.

“And when you write—you frown, and shift around, and play with your hair—sometimes you even smile…” He took a deep breath. “I could watch you write for eternity.”

Beth gripped his wrists and gave them a sharp pull. Harrison landed on her, stealing her breath with the motion and feel of him. He went still, even as his heartrate escalated to a dizzying beat, pounding against her chest. Her teeth sank into her lip as she shifted and felt him respond. Harrison dropped his head to her shoulder. Sweat covered him, sending a shockwave of possessiveness through her.

He was hers, all of him. The good, and everything else.

Beth flexed her hips and he moaned. He went up on his elbows and thrust his body up, and Beth closed her eyes at the feel of him through their clothes, hard and ready. 

“We can’t—” he started.

“Don’t tell me what we can’t do. Just show me what we can,” she commanded, her voice throaty and raw.

Harrison brushed his lips across hers. A feather of a touch. “Beth,” he hesitated.

“I went to the doctor,” she said before she lost her courage.

He jerked back.

“I just—I wanted to be prepared, just in case. I wanted it to be one less thing for you to worry about. I’m healthy, and I’m taking medicine.”

The stare he aimed at her was heavy, and long. Beth shifted her eyes away and back as she waited. Harrison finally blinked, calm settling over his features. He nodded, once. Hesitated again. “But if—I mean—are you sure?”

“I am so sure.” Seeing Harrison nervous made her heart smile. She shook her head, shook away his denials and fears. “I trust you to know. I trust you. You’re in charge. I’ll follow your lead.”

His throat shifted as he swallowed. “I don’t have any co—”

“I do. In the pocket of my jeans.” Beth smiled at the look he gave her. “I’m prepared, Harrison. I told you.”

“Anxious, even.” Wryness entered his eyes.

“You have no idea.”

Hunger shot across his face.

When he placed his mouth to hers again, and applied light pressure, she opened hers. Beth’s fingers curled at her sides, then moved to his back. Her grip gently molded to the hard muscle, holding him to her. His hips moved forward and back, and Beth moved with him. Harrison’s mouth was firm, in control, and he tasted like ardor and mint. His mouth was a weapon of seduction.

Beth struggled to breathe, to articulate thoughts. But she couldn’t. She could only hang on, and feel.

He efficiently stripped Beth of her clothes, not taking any time to watch what he was unraveling until there was nothing but air on her skin. Harrison didn’t move, frozen in place as his eyes tripped over her body. He said her name. That was all. But he said it in prayer, or maybe as a plea. Her smile told him it was too late. His lips on her neck said he knew.

“I’m going to give you everything, everything I can,” he told her, his voice shattered with rawness.

“I want everything.”

She arched her back as his breath whispered across her skin, her hands gathering the sheets around her, fisting them. Beth breathed in as his lips brushed across her abdomen, breathed out as his fingers ran along the inside of her thigh. Her body thrummed, trembled. Eyes closed, thoughts were swept away by the way he made her feel. Harrison pressed a kiss on her hip bone and her muscles tensed.

Beth tugged at his boxers, needing his skin on hers. Harrison froze, his head lowered. The air that left him was ragged, fragmented. He knelt on a precipice, scared to stay, scared to fall.

Fall with me.

“I’m sure,” she reassured him when he looked up, not even the hint of a tremble in her voice.

He knelt between her legs, removing the last article of clothing that separated them. Dizzy with the sight of him, not sure she wasn’t going to pass out from the power of her feelings mixed with the agonizingly sweet torture her body was enduring, Beth went to her knees. He was beautiful—lean alabaster sinew and muscle. And then her eyes dropped. Beth took him in her hand, watched as his head dropped back, baring his neck. Air hissing through his teeth.

Harrison was on fire and Beth stoked the flames more.

“This is going to be embarrassingly short,” he muttered when she put her face to his stomach.

Beth smiled against his torso, and then she licked his skin. He tasted like salt and man, her control slipping when she moved her mouth toward his center and Harrison moaned, gripping her head and tightening fists around her hair. She barely touched him before she was on her back and he was above her, glaring down at her like an insatiable, starving animal. Like she was the only thing that could assuage his hunger.

Straddling her, he moved his palms up the fronts of her legs and stomach, his face following until his mouth met hers, slowly, languidly. Almost chastely. And then more forcefully, telling her with his mouth what she was doing to him. Harrison’s fingers shook and the breaths he exhaled sounded constricted, choked. Beth didn’t even try to talk. It was useless. His hands and fingers touched her in ways that made her body tense and her mouth beg incoherently.

Beth retrieved a condom, heard the tear of the wrapper and then felt Harrison’s heat between her legs. When he entered her, the pleasure was intense, so much that it almost hurt. They both went still, hearts pounding against each other’s skin, lips locked. Flesh on flesh, body to body, they were one. Harrison cradled her head and Beth anchored him to her with her legs. She moved, and he tensed. She moved again, and he slowly responded. They found their tempo, and it escalated, grew faster. More intense. Harder. It was wild, and gentle. Slow and hard. Beth didn’t want it to stop, didn’t want to ever be separated from Harrison. He was her heart.

In the dark, it was Beth, and Harrison, and that was it. That was all that mattered.

TWELVE

IT WAS BETH’S favorite kind of winter day. The sun was out, the temperature was bearable, and Harrison was by her side. Beth cherished all her days spent with him. Days that were never long enough and passed too quickly. Her boots seemed to find every possible slush spot, but that was okay. Everything was okay. Better than okay. Being a late morning on a Tuesday, there weren’t a lot of people out, but there were some. Enough. They were around
people
.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and smiled.

He tightened his grip on her hand. “What?”

“This is nice. Unusual. And nice.”

“Walking with me is unusual? We walk all the time.”

“Where anyone can see us?” Beth widened her eyes and waved a hand in front of them and toward the rectangular buildings to the right of them. “This is unusual.”

“If I look at each day instead of all the weeks and months, then it isn’t overwhelming. This is just a day. One day. I can make it through one day. Where anyone can see us,” he quietly added.

They were in Logansville, Minnesota, a city of thirty thousand people that was an eighteen-minute drive from Crystal Lake. Anywhere they went, there was a chance someone would recognize him. The plan was to do some Christmas shopping and have lunch. It had been an uneventful morning so far, just the way Beth and Harrison wanted. Eventually, everything Harrison tried to keep private would be public knowledge, including her. That last part bothered him more than it did her. He was troubled over how she would be treated. Beth wasn’t concerned; she didn’t care what others thought, not in this.

“Do you feel okay?” Beth stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Are you worried? Nervous?”

Harrison dropped his gaze to where her skin touched his, a faint smile on his face. Beth’s hand fell to her side as he cupped her face, looking into her eyes with ones that danced with contentment. Harrison was happy. She loved seeing that look on his face, knowing she helped put it there. She’d never thought herself capable of making another person feel how he did. Beth didn’t know she could make someone feel important, special. Harrison brushed his lips across hers once, twice, before straightening, a light kiss that plummeted her stomach to her toes.

“I feel like everyone is looking at me,” he admitted as they crossed the street.

“If they are, it’s because of the scowl on your face, and not because they know who are you.”

“I’m not—” He looked up, caught the frown on his face in the reflection of a window as they passed.

Beth laughed and pointed to a store on the corner. “That’s the one I wanted to check out.”

They were almost to the peach-colored shop when Harrison asked, “Have you told anyone about us?”

Her pulse quickened. “No. I didn’t know if it was okay.” She took in the straight line of his mouth. “Have you?” Hope lifted her voice.

Harrison tried to look nonchalant, but the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes ruined it. “I may have mentioned you to my parents,” he told her.

“Really?” Her face beamed with a wide smile. “What did you tell them?”

He laughed and swiped a hand over his mouth, the gesture alluding to his nervousness over the topic. “I told them you’re stubborn, and that you can be a bully with the best of intentions. That your heart is as big as the world, and that I like dancing with you, even though I’m terrible at it. Please don’t cry,” he quickly added when her lower lip wobbled. “You know it makes me feel bad when you cry.”

Beth took a steadying breath and wiped her damp eyes. “At least they’re happy tears.”

“They want to meet you—my parents.” He inhaled, not releasing it for a beat. “They want us to have Christmas together.”

She placed her palm to the sharp bone of his cheek, and smiled. “I would love that. I want to spend all the holidays with you.”

He let out a breath, shadows she hadn’t noticed were there dispelling from his frame. “This is…this is different for me. I don’t want to assume anything. You have to understand that I didn’t see myself in any kind of relationship, ever again. I had everything mapped out. And then you showed up, eight minutes late, and destroyed all of my plans.”

“They were terrible plans.”

Half of Harrison’s mouth hitched up.

“And…” Beth grabbed his large hand. “Technically, I was at your house on time.”

“You were right on time, Beth, eight minutes late and all.”

With the sun to Harrison’s back, it haloed him, turned his hair to fire and added a shimmer to his porcelain skin. Looking at him made her heart pound in a way it only did for him. It made her want his bare skin on hers. Beth was a mess, and it was all because of Harrison, and it was the best kind of mess. He made her body hum and her mind work in triple time and her soul speak.

Her mom had commented on it, saying she looked happier than she had in years. Jennifer had asked her who she was sleeping with. Beth had smiled, not answering.

“What are you thinking?” Harrison asked, his head cocked as his eyes drilled into hers in a way that made her pulse escalate.

“I’m thinking I need coffee.”
And your mouth and hands on my body. But first—coffee.

People passed by, and they were inconsequential. Unnoticeable. It was Harrison with his dark chocolate eyes that could see all of her dreams and demanded her to reach them. Beth opened her mouth to say something, and paused. She glanced behind her, a mark on her back saying eyes were there, staring into her, but Beth saw nothing, no one. She shook off the unease and smiled at Harrison, pulling him into the coffee shop that also had a small supply of unique gifts available for purchase.

A bell above the door signaled their entrance. Beth and her mom liked to stop in for coffee whenever they were in Logansville, which wasn’t more than a half-dozen times a year. The room was divided in half, the left part set up as a quaint coffee shop and the other part filled with books, knickknacks, tee shirts, purses, and other goods. What could be seen of the walls showed that they were pale yellow in color.

Not a lot of light shone through the row of small windows that lined the tops of two walls, making it darker in the building. The floor creaked as they walked. A robust scent of coffee wrapped around them and Beth sighed with bliss, briefly closing her eyes. When she opened them, Harrison was there, studying her with rapt attention. He looked at her like he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but whatever it was, he liked looking at it.

She self-consciously rubbed her nose and shifted her feet. “What? What is it?”

He wordlessly pulled her behind a rack of books, tugged off her stocking cap, and with his cold fingers framing her face, Harrison kissed her. Beth’s body immediately responded, sparked to life with the fire of his touch. Her thoughts mirrored her heartbeat, proclaiming:
I love you I love you I love you I love you
. Beth didn’t allow sadness into their union. Like Harrison said, it was one day at a time. Today was only one day, one good day.

Someone nearby cleared their throat, and they broke away. With stars in her eyes, Beth smiled at Harrison. He grinned back, looking younger than his years. Looking free of his worries and fears. She didn’t know how her love alone wouldn’t be enough to keep him with her until her last breath was taken. Beth almost thought it could.

The woman cleared her throat again. “Would you like to try a latte sample? It’s pumpkin spice.”

Beth looked around Harrison, meeting the amused eyes of Midge, the owner of Coffee and Trinkets. She was shorter than Beth and about thirty years older, on the heavy side, and whenever Beth had seen her, she was in a dress. Today it was a long-sleeved purple one with white snowflakes along the hem. The dark-haired woman held out a small Styrofoam cup to Beth and Harrison, who each took it with a thank you.

They spent the next hour drinking cups of coffee as they scanned the display of items for sale. Beth bought a shirt that read ‘No talkie before coffee’ for her dad and an ornament in the shape of a desktop computer for her brother Jake. Harrison procured a stack of books and journals. They thanked Midge and stepped outside.

She felt the shift in the atmosphere as soon as they left the shop.

Something was wrong, different. The air was energized, and it was coming from the group of people standing on the corner next to them. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. It felt like nails being dragged down her skin. Beth looked at Harrison, watched the color drain from his face, how all the muscles and bones of his face went sharper, vengeful. Tight-lipped, his eyes blazed with black fire.

“What’s going on?” she stupidly asked, even though it was obvious.

“They know who I am.” His head jerked once toward the mass of suited men and women.

“How?” It was a whisper, and she wasn’t sure Harrison even heard her.

Soon they were surrounded by people. Eager, hungry people. People who didn’t see Harrison Caldwell as a person, but as a story. Harrison’s hand tightened on hers and he moved in front of her, as if to keep her safe. It was too late. She knew that as soon as she caught sight of the news van parked along the street across from where they stood. His body was taut next to her, living armor against a horde of teeth and eyes, and voices, so many voices.

The coldness in the air sank into Beth, froze her. She was numb, unmoving. Stunned.

“Harrison,” she said in a choked voice, clutching his arm.

Harrison partially turned and spoke closer to her ear. “It’s okay, Beth. Don’t say anything.”

They were swarmed, people thrusting microphones toward Harrison and voices shouting over others.

“Mr. Caldwell, is this your first public appearance since being diagnosed with HIV?”

“What’s it like to live with HIV?”

“Is there a chance you’ll come out of retirement?”

“Harrison, is this your girlfriend?”

“How does having HIV affect intimacy with one another?”

“Mr. Caldwell, have you made Logansville, Minnesota your home?”

“Were you aware that Nina Hollister, the woman from whom you contracted the disease, died less than a week ago? How does that make you feel? Does that make you more worried over your own health?”

Harrison stopped breathing. The air left his lungs, but did not return. He turned to stone. The fingers around her hand went limp. Beth felt him sway, and she set her arm around his waist, anchoring him to her, holding him up if she had to.

“Harrison,” she whispered against his arm. “We have to go. Let’s go.”

“What does your girlfriend think of the fact that you’re putting her at risk?”

“What’s in the future for you, Harrison?”

“Come on, man, you’ve been hiding away for years. Give us something,” an especially belligerent reporter demanded.

They were turning something good into something ugly. Each question chipped away at her, each one brought her pain, but it was all for Harrison. They were hurting him. Beating him down. Morphing him into something bad instead of the man he was. She wanted to scream at them to shut up, she wanted to clap her hands over Harrison’s ears so he couldn’t hear them.

He straightened and looked at her. There was nothing on his face. It was empty. Empty face, empty mouth, empty eyes. It was like staring into a void. “Go to the truck, Beth. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“No.” She shook her head, her jaw taut with resolution. “I’m not leaving you. I refuse.”

“Go to the truck.” He pressed the keys into her palm. “Please. For me. I’ll be there shortly.”

She stared into his eyes. They were the mountains, and the valleys, the earth, and the sky. They were everything in the world that meant anything, and they were crying. Bleeding black. Sobbing sorrow. Fading into nothingness. Beth’s body trembled and she turned her gaze to the swarm of vipers, hating them all, wanting them all to be crushed with guilt for what they were doing to this man. He was better than them, better than all of them.

Beth focused on Harrison, and spoke clearly. Firmly. “I love you.”

Emotion flickered in his eyes, brought a twitch of life to his visage. Harrison’s face softened. He nodded, once.

When she broke away from him and headed in the direction of his truck, a newscaster made a beeline for her. Harrison blocked him, stating, “Follow her and things are going to go bad for you real quick.”

Beth saw the man’s face blanch before she turned the corner and lost sight of them. She tried to walk fast, but her legs were leaden. Hurrying made time slow. What was happening? What were they saying to him? What was he saying back? What was he feeling? Her hands were fisted tight, her fingernails abrading the flesh of her palms.

A pinpoint in the distance was her destination, and Beth aimed her eyes and feet for Harrison’s black truck. She was cold—so cold; her body was shaking from it. Worry stroked her hair, whispered in her ear that everything would be different now. Held her in its arms and cooed that she was a silly girl, with silly dreams, and silly hopes, and that the world was laughing at her.

As she passed an alley between two buildings, a figure shifted, breaking through the motions of her shocked brain. Beth paused, catching sight of Ozzy lurking in the gloom of dirty snow and brick. She had to blink a few times to believe what she was seeing. Him in his jean jacket and his disrupted hair and his golden eyes. The depth of her repulsion was startling.