“Then what did you mean?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. The wind picked up, carrying snowflakes across the porch. For the first time, he looked uncertain. “I only meant that I could make it work. For both of us. I could take care of—”
I stepped back so fast the boards creaked. “Stop.”
“Lucy—”
“No." My voice shook, but I found strength in the anger that burned beneath it. “Do you even hear yourself? You could make it work? You could take care of me? What I hear is a man who thinks love is an inconvenience he is willing to tolerate if it fits neatly into his plans. I don't need that kind of love.”
He flinched as though I had struck him. “That’s not fair.”
“It is fair,” I said, my eyes stinging. “You came here to tell me you care for me, but every word out of your mouth has been about how I am wrong for you, how my family would horrify yours, how my life is something you would have to overcome. I would rather be alone than pitied.”
“Lucy—”
"Don't say my name. You’ve said enough." My throat felt raw. I shrugged out of his coat, shoving it at him so he had to take it or it would fall to the ground.
He took a slow breath, his posture stiffening, the warmth draining from his expression. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” I repeated. “For what? For insulting me or for meaning it?”
His jaw tightened. “Both.”
He looked away then, toward the yard and the gray sky beyond it. “I won’t speak about it again.”
I nodded once. There was nothing else to say.
He opened the door and stepped inside the inn. The sound of laughter and footsteps spilled out briefly before the door closed behind him, sealing me in the cold. I stood there, arms wrapped around myself, trying to steady the tremor in my hands. Snowflakes began to fall from the sky. My reflection in the window looked pale and brittle. I told myself I wouldn’t cry. I told myself I was stronger than that.
Inside, life went on. I could hear Mom giving a tour of the reception room to the new guests, her voice bright and unshaken. Someone laughed, probably Kitty. The clatter of dishes followed, familiar and safe. The world kept turning while I stood still.
Eventually I forced myself to move. I went back inside and even smiled when Mom asked if everything was all right.
“I’m fine. Just a little cold. I think I’ll get a teafrom the kitchen,” I replied.
She nodded, already moving on to another conversation. The noise of the inn filled the air again. Lydia and Kitty were laughing as they tried to hand a garland over the fireplace mantle in the reception room. I went upstairs to check the guest room and make sure there were extra towels and the linens hadmanaged to get where they needed to be. My steps were steady, but my pulse wasn’t.
That night, when the house finally quieted, I found myself by the window of my room. The snow had started to thicken, falling under the porch light. I could still see the spot where Dex had stood, where the air between us had turned from warmth to distance in the span of a sentence. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to stop replaying the words. But what I wanted most was the one thing I couldn't have, which was an apology that would make me believe he understood what he had done.
He may have just broken my heart.
Chapter Sixteen: A Threatening Forecast
Dex.
The road back to the ski lodge felt longer than it had the morning I left. The mountains and the trees were foreboding under the gray sky. With every passing mile, more distance was put between me and the SnowDrop Inn. I tried not to picture Lucy on the porch with her arms folded tight, my words landing wrong again and again. I replayed the entire conversation in my head and felt like I had messed up the most important thing in my life.
Inside the lodge, silence waited the way it always did. It was curated, like every other part of the building, as if quiet were a luxury amenity you could order along with the heated floors. I dropped my bag in the suite and stared at the glass spread of the window. Clouds gathered along the ridge. The weather was building and a storm was moving in
I told myself I was fine. A grown man should be able to hear the truth and accept it. Lucy had been right to reject me. Any woman would have. I had tried to speak from the heart and ended up speaking from habit instead. The words that came out had carried a life’s worth of expectations that had been pressed into me since I was a child. I had offered a tidy analysis where I should have offered respect and emotion. The problem was that I had so little experience in expressing feelings. They had been suppressed, unwanted for my entire lifetime. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel them, it was that I had no voice for them. I had bungled the entire conversation.
A knock came, quick and friendly. I opened the door to Braxton’s face and his half-smile. He held up two mugs. “You look like you need coffee.”
“I suppose so,” I allowed. I took the cup and stepped back so he could enter. He went directly to the white sofa and lounged on it, mug in hand.
“What happened?” he asked with curiosity.
“Nothing." I bit out the word, not meeting his eyes.
