The words hit harder than that punch to the head. Years?
“That day in the snow,” he continued, voice rougher now, like gravel and whiskey. “Remember?”
How could I forget? The day everything changed between us. Back before Knox got arrested.
His voice dropped to something raw, almost broken. “You stole Knox’s ridiculous parka. The one that was three sizes too big.”
I remembered. The monstrosity that had swallowed me whole.
“You were tipsy on two beers. Declared the snow was …” He stopped, his jaw working like the words physically hurt. “‘Too perfect to waste.’ I followed you outside to make sure you didn’t break your neck on the ice.”
His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, like he was fighting the memory itself.
“But then you started spinning.” The words came out rougher now, his eyes locked on something far away. “Arms wide, catching snowflakes on your tongue like you were five years old. That silver dress under the parka catching the light.”
I watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard.
“There was this one snowflake that landed right on your eyelash. Left one. You blinked it away and laughed at … at nothing. At everything. And that laugh …”
He cut himself off, turning away from me sharply. When he turned back, his eyes were wild, desperate.
“You grabbed my hands. Tried to make me dance with you in the fucking snow. Your fingers were freezing, but your eyes were so …” He dragged a hand down his face. “Christ, Dakota. The way you looked at me.”
The silence stretched taut between us before he continued, voice barely above a whisper.
“That’s when I knew. Right then, with snow falling between us and your cold hands in mine. I was completely gone for you.” A bitter smile escaped him. “Terrified the hell out of me. I dropped your hands like they were on fire. Left you out there, spinning alone.”
He met my eyes then, and the pain there took my breath away.
“I’ve never looked at snow the same way since. Can’t see a single snowflake without seeing you in that silver dress, without remembering how I knew I had to stay away or I’d destroy us both.”
My stomach clenched. I never knew why he’d suddenly turned cold after that weekend. Started treating me like I was invisible, like I was something contaminated.
“I was falling in love with you.” The confession ripped out of him, raw and bleeding. “And I couldn’t have you, Dakota. Not just because Knox would’ve pummeled me into next week. But because I never wanted anyone in my life. Not after what I experienced, growing up. Relationships were doomed; love was fake. I refused to fall into the trap of thinking it could be real, just to end up like my parents.”
He stopped in front of the window, his reflection a tortured shadow against the city lights.
“I certainly wasn’t going to drag a child into that hell. By the time I met you, I was already broken.” He turned back to me, and the vulnerability in his eyes stole my breath. “And you challenged everything I believed in. It terrified me, but even if I could’ve gotten past that fear, I wasn’t going to infect you with my darkness.”
“So, you pushed me away.”
“I tried.” His smile could’ve cut glass. “God, I tried. Figured if I was cold enough, cruel enough, you’d hate me. Problem solved.”
“Clearly, that worked out brilliantly for you.”
“It was torture.” He moved closer, and I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “The longer it went on, the worse it got. Like I was starving and you were the only thing that could save me.”
My breathing had gone shallow.
“It pissed me off actually.” His muscle tightened the way it did when he was fighting for control. “I chose everything else in my life. My career, my friends, my women. But you?” He shook his head slowly. “You invaded every thought, every dream, every goddamn moment without my permission.”
Every molecule between us felt magnetized, humming with years of suppressed want.
“So, when dating a different woman every week didn’t work, I tried something more drastic.” His voice dropped. “Cassandra pursued me. Hard and persistently. Eventually, I caved and dated her. Four weeks in, she started talking marriage. One night, after enough whiskey to drown my conscience, I was desperate enough to think maybe if I committed to someone else, I’d finally stop wanting you.” He let out a deep breath. “Which was the most screwed-up logic, in hindsight. You were too precious to taint with me, but I was willing to do that to her.” He shook his head.
“But you didn’t go through with it.”
“How could I?” He reached up slowly, as if fighting against himself, and when his thumb finally grazed my jawline, my breath caught. The pad of his thumb was achingly gentle, tracing the curve of bone beneath my skin with a tenderness that made my chest tighten. “Every time I looked at her, I saw your face. Every time she laughed, I heard your voice.”
