Like Fresh Fallen Snow

by Tara Wyatt

  “Ellie? You okay? You have a weird look on your face.”

  “Sorry. I’m just trying to picture the kind of woman who would cheat on you, who wouldn’t want to have your baby. I . . . just can’t. Like, it’s not computing for me.”

  His features softened, and a sadness crept in around his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Ellie. You’re killing me.”

  It was her turn to shrug. “I’m just being honest.”

  “I know. That’s what’s killing me.” He turned away and pushed up off the bed, carrying his coffee with him to the window. “Fuck.” His curse left a fog on the frosty windowpane that faded quickly.

  She followed him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Did I say something wrong?”

  He set his coffee down on a nearby table, slipped an arm around her and pulled her into him, kissing her temple. “No. That’s the problem. Everything that comes out of your mouth is right.” He dipped his head and kissed her, a deep, slow kiss that sent her heart racing and tightened her chest until she felt lightheaded. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged. “Jesus, Ellie. What are we going to do?”

  Her heart lurched painfully against her ribs, because hell if she knew. It seemed impossible that less than twenty-four hours ago, he’d been a stranger to her. Equally impossible was the idea that after tomorrow morning, she’d never see him again.

  * * *

  Three orgasms, two hours and one delicious breakfast later, Matt and Ellie lounged in the bathtub together, surrounded by lavender-scented bubbles and drinking a fresh bottle of champagne, but whether the champagne was in celebration of this crazy thing they’d found together or to try to dull the pain of their impending separation, Matt wasn’t sure. With Ellie’s back nestled against his chest, he trailed his fingers down her soapy arm, pressing his nose to her hair and inhaling deeply. The snow was still falling outside, although lighter than it had been earlier in the morning. After they’d each checked in with Luke and Lauren, they’d fallen back into bed, unable to get enough of each other, especially knowing that the clock was ticking. They’d been granted a grace day, and Matt already felt panicked at how quickly it was going by.

  “Tell me more about your job. You said that you run a website?” They hadn’t talked much about their professional lives last night, avoiding the topic of Seattle.

  She nodded. “It’s called Crossing the Streams, and I started it about six years ago. We review mostly sci-fi and fantasy movies, books, video games, and comic books, and it’s turned into kind of a geek-girl haven. Women who like this stuff are traditionally pretty unwelcome in male-dominated forums, so when I started it, one of the goals was to write about this stuff from a female fan’s perspective. I create a lot of the content for it, but the site’s making enough money now that I can hire freelance writers from time to time, which frees me up to focus on courting new sponsors, writing longer essay-style pieces, and working on the technical side of things.”

  “Crossing the Streams as in Ghostbusters?”

  “You got it. My all-time favorite movie.”

  “Mine too.”

  She craned her neck to look at him, a skeptical look on her face. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Really. It’s the perfect movie. It’s funny, scary, smart, suspenseful. Good action. It has everything.”

  “Exactly!” She raised her hands enthusiastically, spraying his chest with bubbles. “Oops. Sorry.”

  He laughed. “I’ve been slimed.” He pulled her against him and kissed her, slowly, savoring every slide of her tongue against his, every tiny sigh escaping from between her lips. She shifted against him, and even though he was starting to lose track of how many times he’d come over the past twelve hours, he was hard again.

  Goddammit. Why did she have to be just so absolutely fucking perfect? Pretty and smart and sweet and funny and adorable and just . . . everything. He’d known her for less than twenty-four hours, and it felt like he’d known her for years. Like she was made for him.

  He wrapped her in a towel, carried her to the bed, and made love to her again just like he’d kissed her: slowly and savoring every single touch, every single sound while their time ticked down far too quickly.

  Afterward, he slipped his arms around her, nestling her against him, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He held still as Ellie took a long, deep breath that came out as a choked shudder. He felt as though his chest was cracking open, and he kissed the top of her head.

  “I know,” he whispered.

  “I know you know.” Simple words, but in that moment, they were everything. Like an electric current, an idea charged through him.

  Ask her to come with you.

  But he couldn’t do that. They’d known each other for, what? A day? To ask her to follow him over a thousand miles away, to leave behind her friends, her family, her home, for someone she’d met less than twenty-four hours ago, was crazy. Insane. Impossible.

  As the day progressed, the snow lightened, and just before dusk, weak rays of sunlight began peeking through the gray snow clouds scuttling across the sky. They watched movies, talked about anything and everything, and used up every single condom, getting completely and thoroughly lost in each other. Being with her was like breathing: effortless and completely natural. Easy.

  He was dreading finding out what it would feel like to have his lungs ripped out tomorrow morning.

  Chapter 8

  “I need you to do something for me.” Ellie kissed Matt’s shoulder as the sun rose over the ski hills the next morning, blues and pinks dancing across the snow.

  “Of course. Anything.” And he meant it.

  She took a long, shaky breath. “I can’t say good-bye to you. I’m . . . I just can’t, Matt. So I’m going to close my eyes, and when I open them, I need you to be gone.” Bright sadness shone in her golden eyes. “I don’t want to watch you leave. I just want to remember it like this.” He felt something wet on the skin of his shoulder as she pressed her face into him. She slid her hands up to his face, her palms soft against his now prickly cheeks. Softly and sweetly, she kissed him, and just as he felt a tear against his cheek, she pulled away.

  “Go,” she whispered, her eyes boring into his before scanning over his face. She blinked once, freeing a tear that had been caught on her eyelashes, and then closed her eyes.

  Matt swung his legs over the edge of the bed, dressed quickly, and, without looking back, walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him, all in the space of a few minutes. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. She was right. It was better this way. They’d gone into this with open eyes, had known this was coming, and leaving without some long, drawn-out good-bye was for the best.

  He walked to the elevator bank and jabbed at the call button before shoving his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to punch a hole in the wall. It had gone too far, and now she was hurt. He rubbed a fist against his sternum, trying to extinguish the ache building there. Guilt and sadness swirled in his stomach, mixing with the anger he felt toward himself for being an asshole who never should’ve slept with her.

  He swallowed thickly, and for a second, he thought he might throw up.

  On the drive home, he sat silently in the backseat of Luke’s truck, glad that he and Christie had stayed the extra night too, otherwise he’d be finding his own way back to Cheyenne. He wouldn’t have wanted to run into Ellie back at the hotel, as that would only have upset her even more. She’d asked him to go, and although it hurt, he understood.

  As he watched the piles of snow whiz by in a white blur, he tried to reason with himself. It was a connection fueled only by loneliness, the holiday, and toe-curling sex. It would hurt less once he managed to put some distance—both time and space—between himself and Ellie. Hell, it was two nights together. It shouldn’t hurt at all. It had been fun, and now he was moving on to his bright, shiny new life.

  It suddenly didn’t feel so bright or shiny. No, he felt like he’d walked away from the bright and shiny when he’d left th
at hotel room earlier this morning. A sense of loss tugged at his chest, and he rubbed his fist over it again.

  He knew he was being a grumpy bastard, but he’d apologize to Luke and Christie later. Right now, he just wanted to shower, eat, and finish packing. Hopefully if he kept moving, kept busy, he wouldn’t have to think too much about Ellie.

  And yet hours later, as he shoved the last of his belongings into boxes, he found himself smiling as he remembered her laugh, her scent, the feel of her skin against his.

  God, he was such an idiot. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and there was nothing he could do about his feelings for her. He refused to act like a psycho stalker, tracking her down and trying to convince her to come with him.

  Not that he’d thought about that.

  Not that he’d already looked up her address.

  Jesus, he’d probably scare the shit out of her if he just showed up at her place in Denver. No. He was leaving for Seattle tomorrow, just like he’d planned. The moving company was coming first thing in the morning to pick up his things, and then he was driving his Jeep from Cheyenne to Seattle. He’d already mapped out his route, with places to stop for the night highlighted. He liked having a plan, having things mapped out.

  Meeting Ellie, clearly, had not been on the map. It had been a detour, and now he was back on track. Alone, missing her like crazy, but back on track.

  Besides, wouldn’t she have said something if she saw a future for them? And she hadn’t. She’d said she wanted him for the time she could have him, and that was all. Not thinking, just enjoying.

  And yet . . . he couldn’t erase the image of her light brown eyes shining with tears. She’d cried when she’d kissed him good-bye, and that had to mean something.

  Matt rubbed his chest again.

  A sharp rap on his front door startled him out of his thoughts, and he crossed the worn linoleum to fling it open.

  “I thought we could have beer and pizza one last time before you go,” said Luke, a six-pack in one hand and a pizza in the other. He stepped in without waiting to be invited. Matt forced a smile he didn’t feel, closing the door behind his brother.

  Settled on the stools at the kitchen counter, a Colorado Avalanche game on the TV, they ate and drank in companionable silence.

  “I’m gonna fucking miss you, man. I’m gonna miss this,” said Luke, his voice a little rough. He wiped at his mouth with a paper towel before shoving more pizza in his mouth.

  Matt swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “I know. Me too.”

  When he’d first told his parents and Luke that he was moving to Seattle, they’d been happy for him, but less than enthused about the distance. But they’d supported him, knowing it was what he needed to do. After the divorce, and getting shot, it was time for a fresh start.

  They’d thrown him a going-away party last week, and he’d nearly lost his shit when his nephew Ethan had started to cry, throwing his arms around his legs and asking him to stay. He’d hugged Ethan tight, blinking back tears. Matt’s mom had watched them, blinking back tears of her own.

  Leaving his family was hard, not just on him but on them. Hard, but necessary for him to move forward with his life, and they got that.

  “So, can I have them back?” asked Luke, wiping at his mouth with a paper towel again and shooting Matt a devilish grin.

  “Have what back?”

  “Dude. You took my entire condom stash. Lucky for me, Christie brought some.”

  “Oh.” Matt rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I, uh . . . we used them all. I’ll replace them.”

  Luke laughed and clapped Matt on the back. “Are you fucking kidding me? I had twelve condoms.”

  “Then I guess I had sex twelve times.”

  “Holy shit. She must’ve been amazing.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Matt reached for the remote and turned up the volume on the hockey game.

  “Whoa. I didn’t mean . . . sorry. What happened?”

  “You deaf? I said I didn’t want to talk about it.” As soon as the harsh words were out of his mouth, Matt regretted them, and laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . .” He shrugged and then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “This seems like the opposite of something that doesn’t matter.”

  He thought about telling Luke everything, but there was no point. It wouldn’t make him feel better, and there was nothing to be done. He was leaving for Seattle tomorrow morning, finally getting that fresh start he’d wanted for so long.

  So why did it feel like an ending, not a beginning?

  “You know you’re allowed to want to be happy, right?” Luke asked, turning the volume on the hockey game back down.

  Matt shot him a look. “Yeah. I know. That’s why I took this great job in Seattle.”

  Luke nodded slowly, twirling the neck of his beer between his fingers, a thoughtful look on his face. “No, I know. I meant in your personal life. You never give yourself the chance. I know things with Leah were a mess. But instead of letting the past hold you hostage, you have to learn from it and move forward. Otherwise all that pain was for nothing.”

  Matt took a long pull on his beer. “Yeah, well, I’m leaving, she lives in Denver, and I’ve known her for two days. I can’t really rearrange my life around that, and I can’t ask her to do that, either.”

  “Oh yeah? Why not?”

  “Because that’s what crazy people do. I’m a detective. I catch crazy people. I can’t be one. She’d run screaming in the other direction, and rightfully so.”

  Luke tipped his head and shrugged. “Your call. Christie said she saw something between you two, and I’m really starting to think she was right.” He returned his attention back to his slice of pizza and the hockey game, but Matt’s mind was buzzing, swamped with images and memories of Ellie. He swallowed down the rest of his beer, trying to ignore the ache deep in his chest.

  * * *

  Ellie sat on her couch in her pajamas, her laptop across her knees, and a half-eaten pint of Ben & Jerry’s Mint Chocolate Cookie sweating on the coffee table in front of her. She twisted her hair up into a bun, pinning it in place with a pencil. Flicking her eyes down to the computer screen, she checked her list of tasks for the sixth time. She had a year-end, best-of post to compile (already overdue, considering it was January 3rd), new trailers to post, an essay on sexuality in sci-fi and fantasy to write, and new ads to review. But each time she tried to dig in to a task, she found herself going back to her web browser, where she’d typed “Matt Grayson” into the search bar. His official police photograph filled the screen, his blue eyes bright and a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

  Her throat thickened and she swallowed, the back of her mouth burning.

  Damn. She was crying. Again.

  Firmly, she closed the lid of the laptop. “Enough,” she said, her voice loud in the quiet house. Mostly, she was mad at herself. She’d known what she was getting herself into, and she’d done it anyway. Even though she knew better, had learned through painful experiences to avoid these unsafe situations, she’d jumped in with both feet and guess what? She hadn’t played it safe, and once again, she was hurting. Alone. Eating ice cream in her pajamas.

  So not the way she’d planned to kick off the year of Ellie.

  Her phone buzzed on the couch beside her, vibrating precariously close to the edge. She scooped it up before it could fall and slid her finger across the screen.

  “Hey, you. I thought we were going to the movies.” Lauren’s voice.

  Ellie’s eyes flew to the digital clock on her cable box and she closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Shit. I’m sorry. I was working and I completely lost track of time.”

  “Working, or mooning over Sergeant Sexy?”

  Ellie bit her lip, chewing on it ruthlessly. “So what if I am?”

  “You know, El, it’s the twenty-first century. I’m pretty sure it would be e
asy to track him down on Facebook or Instagram, or heck, just call the police station where he used to work and ask for his email address or phone number. They must have contact information for him.”

  “He doesn’t have Facebook—believe me, I already checked—and I can’t call the police station. It would be weird.”

  “Why? From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you two had a pretty intense connection.”

  “Because we agreed that we didn’t have a future. That it was just for that night. Which, okay, turned into two nights, but still. That was the deal. I knew that going into it. I don’t want to chase him down like some psycho. We made the rules, and now I’m sticking to them.”

  “Screw rules. They’re made for breaking anyway.”

  “But don’t you think that if he’d wanted to stay in touch, he would’ve given me his number? His email?”

  Silence from the other end. Finally, Lauren spoke. “Maybe, yeah. But maybe he thought you didn’t want it. Maybe he wants you to find him as much as you want him to find you, and you’re both too chicken to pull the trigger and reach out.”

  “Reach out from a thousand miles away. Where would this go? My life is here.”

  “Your job is portable, your townhouse is sellable, and you and I could have weekly Skype dates. Please. Your parents would love coming to visit you in Seattle.”

  “No, they wouldn’t. My mom hates flying, and Dad travels all the time for work.” It was a flimsy excuse, because although she was close with her parents, she knew that Lauren was right, and they’d support her moving to Seattle if that’s what she really wanted.

  “Mmmhmm.”

  Ellie sighed, her stomach tying itself into knots. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t just show up on his doorstep in Seattle.”

  “Oh my God, Ellie!” Lauren practically squealed into the phone. “That’s exactly what you should do. Can you imagine how romantic that would be?”

  “I don’t think getting slapped with a restraining order from a guy who was only supposed to be a two-night fling qualifies as romantic. I’m not doing it.”