right for each other meet up, in a world with billions of people. How unlikely is that? I just want to park in front of the store and go inside and then walk to the spot, and when we get back in the car, I think this will be over for me. Really. I’m going to leave it here. In Breckenridge. And when we leave, we won’t come back again on New Year’s.”
His hand finds mine and squeezes—hard.
“I love you,” he rasps.
“I love you.”
The parking lot is dimly lit. The air is thick with falling snow. The place is quiet: only four cars, and all parked near the back of the small lot. Employees.
“Care to go inside with me?”
He nods, and kisses my cheek. I decide when we get back into the car, I’ll do one final thing before I put all this behind me: I will tell him every detail of that night.
In fact, maybe I’ll start my story when we reach the point of impact.
It can only be a good thing. Good and healing.
TWENTY FOUR
BARRETT
December 31, 2015
The night is dark. The road is white. The snow-caked trees that crowd the shoulder dangle icicles that click as wind dives down the famous ski slopes, somewhere in the pinkish clouds above us.
The weather radio said the snow will keep on through tomorrow night. A New Year’s blizzard, maybe twenty inches. This is Breckenridge in winter. Frozen to a crackle. Cloaked in white.
Gwenna’s breath and mine plume silver in the velvet dark that hangs like a stage curtain over the curved road. Snow is falling fast now, caking our jacket hoods and freezing in a sheen of sparkles. Her coat is the color of a plum—or blood. The thick down softens her form. She reminds me of an animal: one sweet and small, in need of shelter.
I must be more head-fucked than I thought, because she turns around, her cheeks red, her lashes wet with snowflakes, and I realize she’s about twenty feet ahead of me.
“Bear?”
Her large brown eyes are widened slightly—in affection or alarm? Her mouth twitches, then presses into a small, red line. She doesn’t speak, and there’s no need. I know her so well. I can see the worry on her face, the burden of her fear and grief a notch between her brows.
“Come walk by me and hold my hand.” She pulls her left glove off and reaches for me.
I oblige her. Anything she wants. With two long strides, I’ve closed the space between us. My hands are ungloved. I told her I forgot my gloves, but that’s a lie. I need to feel the sting.
Her hand folds around mine and Gwen gasps.
“Barrett! Brr, I need to warm you up…” She pulls my hand into her jacket sleeve, gripping it tightly. “Crazy man.”
She laughs, despite the somberness of our affair. Her eyes, wet ink in the moonlight, shine with love—for me.
“Hang on.” With her right hand, she unzips her jacket. “Come here…”
She takes my hands and pulls them into her jacket, pressing them atop her sweater, underneath which I can feel her heart beat.
Her face tilts up to mine, despite the driving snow. “You can’t be leaving gloves at home. It’s so cold. You’ll get frostbite.” Behind her words, there is a smile—a small, lopsided smile she gives me almost all the time. A dreamy smile I love more than life.
I try my best to return it.
Her boots shuffle in the snow as she tries to step closer to me. “It’s so freaking cold. Even with a-all these layers.” She shivers, and I pull a hand out of her coat, tucking her close to me and rubbing my hand over her back.
“Better?”
“Yes!” Her voice trembles with cold.
I press her hood over her head and rub behind her neck, down to her shoulder blades, right where she likes.
“I love you.” Her eyes peek out from behind the faux-fur lining her big hood. I see them crinkle with another smile.
“I love you too.” I pull her close again, and God, I’d like to keep her here forever, locked against me like a splint.
“My Bear,” she whispers.
I swallow. We’re not there yet, but I’m starting to feel frozen—on the inside. A deep breath does nothing to thaw me. She rubs my arms through my jacket and smiles at me again. This smile is curious. Perhaps concerned.
“Your nose is red,” she croons.
Her sweet voice doesn’t thaw me either, but I still smile. “Yours too.” I hug her close once more, but