Page 36 of Someone to Have (Skylark #3)
ERIC
Eventually, I extricate myself from Taylor and climb out of bed, careful not to wake her. I put on my clothes, place the dinner that’s gone cold in her refrigerator, and lock the door on my way out.
The snow is falling in big fluffy flakes, and Rhett and his friend are certain they’re going to get a snow day.
“We’ll sled Widener Hill if it dumps,” Mike says through the tinny microphone on the computer in Rhett’s bedroom. “My mom can drive.”
I hear him and call out, “My truck has new snow tires. I’ll drive.”
I expect Rhett to glare at me for inserting myself into his plans like I’m an actual parent. Instead, he turns and gives me a shit-eating grin. “Can we pick up wings and have Mike here for lunch after?”
He wants his friend to hang out at our house. Holy shit. I nod and try to look cool. “Sure. But Coach Toby’s going to want everyone to watch film at some point. There’s no practice if school is canceled.”
“We’ll watch for hours,” Mike calls through the computer, and I laugh.
“I’ll hold you both to that. I’m turning in, Rhett. Off the computer and in bed by midnight, snow day or not.”
“I gotta be off, too,” Mike says.
“Okay,” Rhett agrees.
“Don’t set your alarm,” I tell him. “I’ll wake you up if you have school. If not, you can sleep in.”
“Fuck, yeah.”
“Language,” I say like I’m not the biggest contributor to our non-existent swear jar.
He grins wider and says, “Heck, yeah.”
Part of me wants to text Taylor and see if she’s awake.
And, more importantly, if she wants company for the night.
I doubt Rhett would notice, but I head to my own bedroom instead.
No point getting more attached than I already am.
I know it doesn’t mean something special to her, which means it can’t mean anything to me.
The fact that I want her to need me the way I'm starting to need her is exactly why I need to keep my distance.
It takes me a while to drift off, but I sleep like the dead—or like a man who had another mind-blowing orgasm.
It’s six a.m. when I wake, and even though it’s dark outside, dim light shines through my window. I check my phone, and sure enough, there’s a notification from the district: school’s closed. Marty also texts that his crews are getting a snow day. Nice.
I glance through the family room blinds and see why. The streetlights reflect off at least five inches of new snow, and it’s still coming down. I know dawn is on the verge of breaking, but right now the world is dark and peaceful. It stirs an ache in my heart that I don’t understand.
I get dressed, then walk down the staircase and out into the silence of the morning.
The street is empty, and the whole world seems muted in a good way. The quiet soothes the restlessness inside me, the uncertainty about what I’m doing here. The dichotomy between what I’m starting to want for my future and what I’ve always thought would happen.
Maybe I have other options. Maybe I’m made for more than anyone around me believes. My past doesn’t have to define me if I don’t let it.
I walk the few blocks to the house I hope my sister will make her future home. Although I’m still unsure whether it’s the right decision, I made an offer on the house the same day I took Taylor to see it. My closing date is Valentine’s Day.
It was always a holiday that triggered strong emotions in our house growing up depending on whether Mom was in a relationship or post-breakup. The uncertainty of her emotions is part of why I never did committed relationships. I refused to give my power away like that.
A few lights are on in houses I pass, and I see people going about their early morning routines despite the snow. It all feels so normal—exactly what I want for Jen and Rhett. Maybe even for myself.
What do I really want? I’m still mulling that over, like a Rubik’s cube I can only solve on one side.
The others remain frustratingly jumbled, making my accomplishment feel small while I grapple with not being able to overcome the full challenge.
I’m left in the perpetual state of wanting more but not knowing how to get there.
The house I already think of as my sister’s is dark, of course, and the muted light of the early hour masks the faded paint and shutters needing repair.
I’m going to talk to Jen at our next visit.
I won’t mention anything to Rhett before then, but if she agrees, I’ll need to get busy updating it before she’s out and I head back to my regular life.
She could be happy here—I feel it in my bones.
The thought that I could also find happiness in this small town sends a wave of shivers along my spine that has nothing to do with the cold or the snow.
I turn back toward the apartment building, my footprints already fading to indentations on the snowy sidewalk.
As I reach the corner of my street and stop, a lone figure walks toward me from the other direction.
There’s no reason I should recognize the woman bundled up in a bulky puffer jacket, ski pants and boots at this distance, but my body knows.
A moment later, she waves a mittened hand at me.
Daylight cuts through the veil of early morning darkness, the sun still obscured behind a wall of falling snow. I wait as she walks closer, hearing the swish of her waterproof pants and grinning wildly as she approaches.
The way my heart leaps at the sight of her should terrify me, but right now I'm too happy to care. “You’re out early.”
“That’s what happens when you sleep for nearly nine hours.
” Pretty sure the color in her cheeks has more to do with memories of last night than the cold.
At least I’m telling myself that. “I wanted to enjoy the snow before the world woke up.” She looks me up and down.
“You need better pants. Jeans aren’t going to cut it today. ”
“Tink, you wound me. I’m tough as nails.”
“There’s a difference between tough and stupid.”
“Did you just call me stupid?”
She fake gasps and presses a hand to her chest. A true thespian, this one. “I would never.”
I brush my thumb across a snowflake clinging to her lashes, then cup her cheeks between my palms and kiss her slowly, savoring her warmth and the minty taste of her sweet breath.
She leans in, and even with all the layers of clothes between us, my body responds. Looks like it’s going to be a cold shower to start the morning.
She pulls back suddenly, looking around like she expects to see someone watching us .
“We can’t kiss on the street,” she says.
“The world’s asleep. Think about it. It’s just you and me. We’re in our very own snow globe.”
Her eyes go soft around the edges.
“I used to love snow globes.” She looks up to the sky, and I want to nip at the column of her throat, but I’m trying to respect boundaries here.
It’s not easy, but I’m trying.
“We’re in a snow globe,” she repeats then lowers her chin and grins at me. “You know, one of the many lists Skylark has made over the past couple of years is ‘Most Like a Real-Life Hallmark Movie Town.’”
I blink. “Is that like a Hallmark card?”
Her jaw goes slack. “You’ve never watched a Hallmark movie? We’re adding that to the snow day to-do list.” Her eyes widen a fraction. “I mean, unless you have plans, or?—”
I kiss her forehead. Innocent enough, right?
“I’d love to spend the snow day with you,” I tell her. “How do you feel about sledding?”
“At Widener Hill?” Her grin widens. “I haven’t been since I was a kid.”
“I told Rhett I’d drive him and Mike there, but there’s no age limit for sledding. The youngsters might not appreciate our presence, but what do we care?”
She laughs. “I’m willing to live on the wild side with you, Coach.”
I keep my smile in place, but my heart rears up at that nickname. I want her to think of me as more than just Coach.
I might not know what a Hallmark movie is, but if it has anything to do with sentimental clichés, I’m living in my own version.
She glances back at the apartment building. “It’s going to be hours until Rhett wakes up, don’t you think?”
I nod .
“Maybe you’d want to get warm with me?”
She sounds unsure, like I’m not freaking putty in her hands. It’s better that she doesn’t know, but damn, this woman has me wrapped around her fuzzy mitten.
I don’t know what happens next, but I think it’s going to take a whole search and rescue team to save me when it all comes crashing down.