The next morning, the world outside is a muted shade of white.
The storm has finally eased, leaving behind a heavy silence that clings to everything.
Callum and I manage to barter two shovels from the front desk clerk who looks relieved enough just to have someone else dealing with the mess outside besides themselves and offer us a complimentary set of gloves from their lost and found.
Our boots crunch as we step out into the street.
Noelle’s car sits still buried outside her shop, a white mound barely recognizable beneath the snow.
When we get to it, it’s clear there’s a thick layer of ice hidden underneath the twelve inches, along with all four of her tires having been swallowed by hardened slush.
Clearly, this is going to take a while.
But that’s fine. Physical work keeps my hands busy, keeps me from thinking.
Or it should, anyway.
But every scrape of metal against ice, every grunt of effort, just makes my mind wander back toher.
The heat of last night is still under my skin, simmering despite the freezing air.
The way her breath hitched with every thrust, her hands reaching down to wrap around my wrists to hold on, her body moving in time with mine—it’s seared into my memory.
Reckless, that’s what it was.
Absolutely reckless.
Her son was asleep behind an unlocked door.
A single sound could’ve ended it all and none of us would’ve had anyone but each other to blame. But hell if I can bring myself to regret any of it.
I grip the shovel harder, forcing myself to remain focused. The rhythmic scrape of steel against ice helps a little, but it doesn’t clear my head entirely. Not when I can still taste her on my tongue.
I glance sideways at Callum. He’s working in silence, as always.
His movements are steady and precise, every bit the ex-soldier he is.
He moves in an efficient rhythm only someone like him can manage, his breath fogging in even bursts. He’s got his hood up, jaw tight, eyes narrowed in concentration.
Not surprising, Callum’s never been one for small talk, but whatissurprising is the fact that he hasn’t said a damn thing about last night.
Not one comment, not even a knowing look. I’d half expected it the second we got out here, away from Noelle and Dean.
He’s not nosy, but he’s observant.
He sees things other people miss.
Hell, I was sure he’d needle at me for letting things get carried away but instead, he’s just…quiet.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“Not gonna say anything?” I mutter, leaning on the shovel and nodding toward the car. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.
Callum doesn’t look up. “About what?”
“You know what.”
He pauses mid-scoop, the shovel blade buried in snow.
