Steady as the Snow Falls (4 page)

“Don’t apologize either. Goodbye, Beth.”

He got up abruptly, a sick look passing over his features as his face turned ashen. Lurching to the side as if he had no control over his body, Harrison’s legs crashed against the end table near his chair, his palms landing hard on the top of it, a slap of something pliable against something unrelenting. His fingers gripped the sides of it as he stayed hunched over, arms trembling and sweat beaded on his skin.

She was on her feet and to him before her brain realized what she was doing. Beth reached out to help him, not sure what she should do, and also alarmed that she wasn’t already doing something. Her fingers grazed his arm and he jerked away. “Harrison? Are you okay? Are you sick?”

His voice filled the air, a lash of cold, striking words hot against her skin. “Don’t touch me.”

Beth snatched her hand back, fear rushing through her veins, pulsing with her heartbeat. She tried to swallow. A warning of peril swept through her mind, told her to keep her distance. Beth backed up a step. “I’m sorry. I just…do you need me to call someone? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he bit out.

“You don’t look like you’re fine,” she commented wryly, crossing her arms to keep from reaching out to him again.

His head slowly turned and he lifted his gaze to hers. Harrison’s mouth twitched. “I look like shit,” he agreed.

She allowed a small smile. “I wasn’t going to go that far.”

“Don’t try to be nice. It doesn’t do either of us any good.” Inhaling, he straightened and stood motionless, the color returning to his face. “I’m fine,” Harrison said again.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I got dizzy. It happens. You can go now.”

He wouldn’t look at her and fallacy rang through his words. She didn’t press the issue. Shrugging, Beth said, “Okay. Same time tomorrow?”

Harrison nodded, his gaze refusing to hold hers.

Beth picked up her coffee mug. “I’ll wash this in the kitchen quick and be on my way.”

“Leave it. I can get it.”

“And I can clean up after myself.” She didn’t want to create extra work for him, not even for something as small as an unwashed cup. He tried to hide it, but something was off with him.

“Don’t,” was all he said, his attention finally locking on her.

The air crackled with tension and challenge. Beth’s skin prickled as Harrison’s eyes connected with hers. She didn’t have something to prove, but he did. She could tell by the stiff set of his shoulders, the hard angle of his jaw. He was embarrassed. Angry. He probably wanted a fight, needed to prove he was in control to feel strong.

She carefully set down the coffee mug. Noticing how his shoulders relaxed, she avoided his gaze and nodded to the book. “I like it so far. See you tomorrow.”

Picking up her laptop case, Beth didn’t wait for words that wouldn’t come. She walked from the room and quickly put on her coat, boots, and hat, but not so fast that if Harrison was to see her, he would think she was in a rush to leave—and she was. She regretted agreeing to write his book, she was unnerved by him, even a little scared. Beth was also riveted. She was as splintered as him, it seemed.

The compulsion to find out all she could about him was overwhelming, and when she stepped outside and into a foot or more of snow, even that didn’t deter her. The snow had stopped, and if she was lucky, the plow trucks had already gone by. She let the Blazer warm up as she used the brush part of a scraper to remove the cold white fluff from the vehicle. Her eyes continually went back to the house, her thoughts on the man within. Beth shivered and set about going home, glad for brakes and four-wheel drive.

TWO

BYPASSING THE BAR where she worked part-time, and subsequently, her ex-boyfriend, Beth took side streets through the town of one thousand and something residents who liked to converge downtown in clusters of inquisitive eyes and flapping mouths. Anyone who didn’t have anything better to do probably already knew she was in town, and from which direction she’d entered it. The chatterboxes consisted mostly of older, retired people, but Ozzy had his own clan of spies looking out for him too.

To her ever-loving frustration, nothing Beth did was unknown to him.

It was dark out, the streetlamps with their holiday wreaths adding light to the cold winter setting. A smattering of houses glowed with outdoor lighting from a porch or garage. She parked near her unlit house, not wanting to waste time shoveling the driveway even as she knew it was necessary. She wanted to research, and write. Because of that, Beth did a sloppy job of shoveling, her arms aching and her skin damp inside the coat and gloves.

The call to find out details on Harrison was becoming irresistible, and she felt like one of the town’s nosy residents in her quest to uncover all she could on him.

The growing roar of a diesel truck alerted her to a visitor, and with a groan, Beth set down the shovel and leaned against the handle, waiting. She watched as Ozzy jumped from the truck and sauntered over to her. A glance here, a stare there, his eyes took in the scene before landing and staying on her. His light brown hair was eternally in need of a trim and a brush, his wiry build deceptive to the strength he had. He wore blue jeans and a jean jacket most days, and on anyone else, it would seem outdated, but not on him. Ozzy owned that look. It was his.

Michael Oswald Peck, or Ozzy, as he went by, was the first boy Beth kissed at the age of nine, the first boy to hold her hand, the first and only boy she told she loved, and the first boy to intimately know her body. Both twenty-six, they had been a large part of each other’s lives for the past twenty of those twenty-six years. His mark on her life was inescapable, even when she prayed for blankness. They had a history, no matter where they were in their lives, or what came between them—and a lot had.

Their history was thick, tangible. Constricting at times.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she faintly replied.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were on your way home? I would have shoveled before you got back.” Ozzy’s brusque words were sweetened by a blinding smile and a sweep of golden eyes.

“Why didn’t you just shovel then? Why wait until I’m home?” Beth allowed him to take the shovel from her, her tone belligerent. Ozzy was a lot of talk and not as much action. “I’m done now.”

“You call this hack job shoveling? Watch the master.” Ozzy shrugged his shoulders and scraped the blade along the cement, whistling a Christmas song. Ignoring her questions.

“You know I wouldn’t have told you I was on my way home.” Her voice was low, but he caught the words, pausing to better listen. “You aren’t obligated to know when I’m home or not. We are not together.”

It wasn’t hard to figure out how he’d known—Ozzy’s brother lived across the street and two houses down. There wasn’t much not known by others in Crystal Lake. How did Harrison Caldwell continue to remain elusive to the masses? How did he get his groceries? Where did he get his hair cut? What about clothes? So many questions. Too many questions.

“How was your first day at the new job?”

Ozzy, along with being a self-proclaimed shoveling master, was a master of delusions. If he didn’t like something he heard, he pretended it wasn’t said. If he didn’t want something to be a certain way, to him it wasn’t. At the moment, he wanted Beth and him to be together. At the moment, they were not. Her choice, not his, which added extra chafing to his pride.

“It was work. Work is work.” She hoped her tone didn’t give anything away, hint at the energy she couldn’t tramp completely from her voice.

He gave her a wounded look. “I can’t believe you’re actually following your dreams instead of wasting your talent in the bar like the rest of us. Where are your priorities?”

Beth’s lips twitched and formed into a small smile. “I know, I really should work on my selfishness. How dare I want to have a career?”

“Right? That’s what I’m saying. The plan was to get married and travel the world, live on love.”

“One of us had to be sensible.”

They joked about it, but there was an edge to the interaction. A glint was in his eyes even though his lips curved up; there was stiffness to Beth’s voice even though she tried to hide it behind layers of friendliness. They both fell short.

Ozzy finished clearing off the short driveway and rested the shovel against the side of the garage. He turned and strode back to Beth, tapping out a beat on his thigh with his fingertips. There was a song in his head at all times. Even when Beth had wanted him to be lost in her, part of him wasn’t hers to have, possessed by the songs in his head and heart. Music lived in Ozzy. He had a gifted singing voice, but he lacked ambition. His gift remained undiscovered because he thought the world should come to him. Beth knew that wasn’t how it worked.

Dreams had to be chased, or they were never caught.

He stopped when only inches separated them, quietly perusing her features, searching, always searching. His animal eyes stole her air with that serene smolder. It was the kind of look that could steadily, endlessly burn until there was nothing left of its target.

“How did it go, really?”

Beth rolled her shoulders under his scrutiny, wishing away the familiarity that didn’t seem to have a place to go. “It went okay.”

“Yeah?” He touched a lock of hair near her shoulder. “Are you sure?”

She shrugged, stepping out of his reach so she didn’t fall into it. His eyes told lies, his mouth told more. “There were hiccups, but that’s normal, being a first day and all. I’m sure it’ll get better.” She smiled, but she feared it wasn’t convincing.

The only information Beth had divulged about her upcoming job was that she was hired to write a biography of someone not well known but who had money. It was assumed her employer was old. It was assumed he was a she. It was assumed they were in a different town.

Beth never said anything either way, because she hadn’t even known who she was working for. And after knowing, she still wouldn’t say anything, because she’d promised, with a contract, with her words. She wasn’t naïve—she knew there was a good chance the truth would come out at some point, but it wouldn’t be because of her.

He rubbed the small of his back and looked to the side. “You know, you didn’t have to get another job so you had less time to spare for the bar.” Ozzy dropped his hand and turned to her.

“Yes,” she said evenly, her eyes unwavering from his. “I did.”

With his mouth set in a hard line, he shook his head. “What did you do? Drink tea and reminisce about their younger days?” Ozzy smiled, but it was fake.

“Something like that.” Beth put a hand in her coat pocket and jangled her keys, wanting to grab her laptop case and run to the warmth and solitude of her home. The cool air froze her lungs as she inhaled, showed in a visible puff of white air as she exhaled. “It’s been a long afternoon, and I’m tired. I think I’m going to make it an early night. So…I’ll see you around.”

“Oh.” Ozzy’s face fell, his charismatic looks even more interesting when there was a crease of dissatisfaction between his eyebrows. “I wanted to buy you a drink at The Lucky Coin, celebrate your new job. As friends, of course.” He smiled when he said it, but it was small and didn’t touch his eyes.

“You don’t pay for your drinks at the bar,” she pointed out.

“I’ve worked there since I was sixteen. They should pay me to drink their drinks.”

“Don’t they?” Beth laughed when his eyes narrowed.

Ozzy lifted his hands, his eyes entreating, and hopped back a step. “So…no? Yes?”

Saying yes to him felt wrong, but so did saying no. “Just as friends?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He put his hands in his pockets and waited, a hopeful lift to his eyebrows.

“And just one drink?”

“Just one drink. Unless you want more.” Ozzy’s full lips curved up on one side.

“Um…” Beth looked behind her to the beacon of her house, and then looked at the Blazer. Her laptop waited inside its case on the front seat of the vehicle, beckoning her forth. All she really wanted to do was put on pajamas, snuggle under a blanket with a cup of coffee, and spend the night with her computer. Learning all she could about Harrison Caldwell.

Sighing, she tugged the stocking cap lower to her head. “Okay. Just one. Let me put my stuff inside quick.”

“I’ll be right here,” he called after her. “Waiting. In the cold. Being cold.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Come on in, Ozzy.”

He jogged past, smacking a kiss on her cold cheek. “I knew you still loved me.”

She stiffened at the kiss and his words, and then moved quickly. She grabbed her laptop case and followed him inside. It had never been about whether or not Beth loved Ozzy. It had been about how many times, and in how many different ways, she would allow her heart to be broken. It always came back to one word: endless. Endless ways with him.

OZZY THRUMMED HIS fingers on the tabletop, his eyes taking in the scene around them before coming back to Beth. “When I said a drink, I was thinking of something more, I don’t know, alcoholic.”

“What’s wrong with hot chocolate?”

His mouth slid to the side. “Nothing, if you’re twelve.”

Boisterous laughter and conversation vied for attention with the country song playing on the jukebox inside The Lucky Coin. With its walls painted pumpkin orange and antique and country décor, the bar and grill was a welcoming atmosphere that was family friendly and tame during the days and became rowdier as night approached. It smelled like fried food and buttered popcorn, reminding Beth’s stomach that she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch that day. Being a Monday night and with the town covered in snow, Beth was surprised by how busy the place was.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you your mom put a shot of peppermint schnapps in the hot chocolate?” Beth held the mug between her fingers, letting the hot liquid warm them. She lowered her nose to the cup to better inhale the sweetly chocolate scent.

He perked up. “Did she?”

“No. But would it make you feel better?”

Ozzy gave her a look, smiling faintly. “Funny girl.”

His parents, Dan and Deb Peck, owned The Lucky Coin. Their hope was that Ozzy would eventually take over the place, but he wasn’t one to commit to anything for too long. He was content working there until he found something he’d rather do. Ozzy was an untethered being, prone to restlessness and wandering. A dreamer who was always finding a new dream.

Beth shrugged, looking over Ozzy’s shoulder. Kelly Burbach, a fellow classmate of theirs, was watching them again. Her expression was guarded, as if she was fighting hard to keep what she was feeling and thinking from her face. Blonde and petite, she had the kind of looks Ozzy preferred. Beth didn’t want to bring it up, sure she could guess at the woman’s interest in the attention Ozzy was giving Beth.

She shifted her gaze to Ozzy, swallowing hard. Just because they weren’t together anymore did not mean it didn’t hurt to know what he did, and with whom, especially when he acted like that wasn’t the case. Everywhere she went, she had to be reminded of all the women Ozzy had been involved with at some point, a few even while they were together. He denied it, of course, but Beth’s gut told her the truth. She was surrounded by his actions, no matter where she went.

“Why did you ask me here?” Her voice was quiet, unstable.

Ozzy’s eyes softened and he reached across the table for her hand. His touch was familiar—once coveted, then hated. Now unwelcome. “I miss you. We hardly ever see each other anymore—I know you’ve been purposely scheduling yourself to work when you know I won’t be. I was surprised you even came tonight.” His countenance was calm, but there was hardness in his eyes.

“It’s easier this way.”

“Maybe for you,” he shot back. Ozzy took his hand away to rub it across his mouth. “It’s not easier for me.”

“I know.” Beth’s disposition cooled, an icy layer of self-protection forming over her. “It’s always been about you and what’s best for you, not me.”

Ozzy sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Are we doing this again? It would be nice to have just one conversation without bringing that up. It happened, it’s over.” He dropped his head forward to aim his gaze at her. There was anger in the thinness of his mouth, blame in the dark golden flecks of his eyes.

“What happened, and what is over? What exactly are you referencing?”
Which time you broke my heart are you talking about?

His jaw shifted, the mask of calm and humor wiped from his expression like it had never been there. “You know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“That makes it okay, right?”

They weren’t talking about breakups and infidelity anymore. They were talking about something else, something darker. Something neither could entirely block from their minds. They were talking about the end, their last night as a couple before Ozzy destroyed the last of her love for him. Sometimes she forgot, just for a moment, just enough to seriously mess with her head when she remembered, like now. She knew Ozzy was better at forgetting.