When Snowflakes Fall

by Tara Wyatt

  Everything around her sparkled: the ice, the snow, the trees, the lights from the house, and she pulled in a long, deep breath. This, right here, right now, was what joy felt like.

  * * *

  A steaming plate of food in front of him, Luke sat back and surveyed his family and the house he’d grown up in, trying to see it through Christie’s eyes. His chest felt tight, his heart swelling and taking up too much space as he realized how well she fit with his family. She was already teasing Matt, and she laughed readily at his dad’s cheesy jokes and talked easily with Ethan, treating everyone with the same warmth and kindness she showed him. A hot, almost burning sensation washed over him, and suddenly he felt too big for his skin, like he was going to vibrate out of it with happiness.

  In that moment, he knew he was in love with her. The realization crashed into him, nearly taking his breath away. It was crazy. He’d only known her for a couple of weeks. And yet now he didn’t want to imagine his life without her in it. Couldn’t imagine it.

  He snuck a hand under the table and gave her thigh an affectionate squeeze. Immediately, her hand was on top of his, squeezing back. She was glowing, radiant almost, as she told a funny story about some of the more bizarre patients she’d seen in the ER.

  This was going to be the best Christmas in years. Maybe ever.

  Chapter 10

  December 20

  Luke pried one eye open, one arm hanging over the edge of Christie’s bed, the other palm spread over Christie’s bare back. Ethan had slept over with his friends Ben and Michael Hayward last night, so Luke had had a sleepover of his own at Christie’s. He let his eye drop closed again just as his phone buzzed from the nightstand. Untangling himself from the covers, he grabbed his phone and his clothes, padding quietly out of Christie’s bedroom.

  “Hello?” His voice was low and rough, rusty with sleep.

  “Hi, is this Grayson Carpentry?”

  “Yes, it is. How can I help you?” Wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he tugged on his jeans.

  “Yeah, hi. My name’s Amanda Taylor, and I was wondering if you’d be able to quote a job for me. My husband and I want to upgrade our staircase to oak, and my neighbor Sarah referred me to you.”

  “Sarah Matheson?” He’d just done a staircase for her a few weeks ago. A few days before he’d met Christie, actually. Because that’s how he measured everything now. Before or after she’d come into his life and taken over all of the available real estate in his brain. In his heart.

  “Yes. I love the staircase you did for her . . .” As Mrs. Taylor began describing what she wanted, Luke strode into the kitchen. He began opening drawers, searching for a pen and paper to take down the information. With Christmas less than a week away, he wouldn’t be able to fit her in until after the holiday, and he didn’t want to forget the details of the conversation when he met with her in person to quote the job. With growing impatience, he rifled through drawer after drawer. Finally, the last drawer was fruitful, pens sliding around on top of a pile of paper. He pulled a sheet and a pen out, scribbling furiously as Mrs. Taylor talked animatedly about newel posts. He paused, frowning, when he noticed what looked like a subpoena sitting on top of the papers in the drawer.

  His appointment with Mrs. Taylor set, he hung up and slowly lifted the subpoena out of the drawer. It was clipped to the front of a file folder containing a thick sheaf of papers. A stab of guilt sliced through him. He knew he shouldn’t be snooping. But what if she was in trouble? What if she needed help?

  He clenched his jaw, arguing with himself. After several seconds, his need to protect Christie outweighed his guilt, and he began reading, unable to tear his eyes away.

  State of Oklahoma, Plaintiff, v. Brian Jeffery Mercer, Defendant.

  To: Christine Elizabeth Harmon. You are hereby commanded to appear before the District Court of Tulsa County on January 15 at 1:30 P.M. to testify as a witness in the above entitled case pending. Failure to appear is punishable by law.

  What the hell?

  His heart beat a little faster, and he set the papers down in order to tug his sweater over his head. He opened the file folder and braced his hands on the kitchen counter. His eyes skimmed rapidly down the pages as he took in the details. From the summary included in the lawyer’s notes, he gathered that Brian Mercer was Christie’s ex-boyfriend, and she’d turned him in to the police for . . . what, exactly, it wasn’t clear, but whatever he’d done, it warranted felony charges of harassment. Protective anger surging through him, he shoved a hand through his hair and turned the pages. His vision narrowed just for a second at what he saw.

  Naked pictures. Of Christie. A finger to her lips, she smiled coyly at the camera, her bare breasts fully exposed. The logo of a porn website appeared in the bottom left-hand corner, the words “Exhibit A” printed across the top of the photo. A few more pictures followed, the most provocative one being Christie on her knees on a bed, her hand between her thighs. Hands shaking, he flipped the pages roughly and found the transcript of a deposition. His eyes tore down the page, and after a moment, everything was clear.

  She’d taken the photos privately for Brian. After Christie had ended their relationship, the slimeball had put them, as well as her personal information, on a “revenge porn” website. Because Brian had included her information without her consent, Christie had been bombarded with filthy messages via email, Facebook, even in person, and she’d contacted the police. When Brian found out she’d contacted the police, he’d sent the images to the hospital board, who had made it clear Christie needed to find a new position, and the sooner, the better.

  He felt a little sick as his heart broke for her, for everything she’d been through, but also a little angry that she hadn’t told him about any of this as they built this new relationship. As she got close to his son. He’d shared the details of his past with her, but she hadn’t said anything. Not a single damn word. He’d opened up and left himself vulnerable, but she hadn’t been willing to do the same, and fuck, that hurt.

  He glanced once at the bedroom door and then pushed away from the kitchen counter, not wanting to look at the files as he tried to figure out how he was supposed to feel about this. Not just about what had happened in Oklahoma, but that she’d hidden it from him. He paced to the window, looking out at the gray sky that promised snow.

  They needed to talk about this. He needed to hear her side of the story. But he wasn’t going to wake her up with this. Not after the hours she’d been working lately. And this . . . his chest hurt as he imaged what she must’ve felt, going through all of that.

  His phone buzzed again and he reached into his pocket.

  “Hey, Luke. It’s Robin. I’m sorry to bug you so early, but Ethan’s sick. I think he might’ve picked up that stomach bug that’s been going around.”

  His focus shifting from Christie to his son, he began tugging on his boots. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up, glanced once more in the direction of Christie’s bedroom, and shook his head. His mind swimming with sadness, doubt, and worry, he threw his coat on and walked out the door. He’d call her once he took care of Ethan.

  Maybe by then, he’d know what to say.

  It wasn’t until he was tucking Ethan into bed after a healthy dose of Pedialyte that he realized he’d left the folder open on the kitchen counter.

  * * *

  The sound of Luke’s truck roaring to life roused Christie from a deep sleep brought on by long work hours and the multiple orgasms she’d had the night before. She sat up, rubbing her sleep-swollen eyes. Maybe Ethan had called, needing him. Maybe a work-relating thing had come up. It was sweet that he hadn’t wanted to wake her, and she smiled as she threw her legs over the side of the bed, grabbed her robe and shuffled into the kitchen.

  The smile slid from her lips when her eyes landed on the open file folder on the kitchen counter. A wave of nausea rolled through her.

  Oh, God.

  Shit shit shit shit.

  He knew.
Everything. And he’d left. He’d found out what she’d done, and that she’d lied about who she was to both him and his son. He’d uncovered her secret, and he’d walked out.

  She stood, stone still, in her kitchen. She held her breath until she saw spots, and her pulse throbbed in her temples. With a gasping sob, she let it out and crumpled to the floor, her heart tearing itself to pieces.

  For several long moments, she let the awfulness of everything wash over her: the pain, the humiliation, the helplessness, all clawing at her chest and leaving her feeling raw and ragged. Finding out Brian had put the pictures online, having to leave her job, and consequently the life she’d built for herself in Tulsa, had been awful. She’d lost friends in the process, their judgmental words cutting deep.

  She took several shuddering breaths, and leaned her back against the kitchen cabinets, still sitting on the floor.

  God, this hurt, and it was only going to get worse, because she needed to let him go. It was the right thing to do. She loved him, but she needed to say good-bye to any kind of future she’d foolishly hoped to have with him. She shuddered to think what would happen if people in the community found out, what that would do to Luke and his family. He and Ethan didn’t deserve that. She’d endured the stares, the comments, the barbs, and she wouldn’t subject them to that as well. She needed to protect them.

  Closing her eyes, she took another deep breath, trying to picture what it would be like without Luke.

  Cold. Lonely. Sad.

  But it was what she deserved. She hadn’t told him the truth, and even though she knew she wasn’t damaged goods, she felt damaged after everything that had happened. Taking the pictures had been stupid, plain and simple. Not a day went by where she didn’t regret it. Now, she had to live with the consequences of what she’d done.

  Her heart broken, both for herself and for Luke, she crawled back into bed and cried herself to sleep.

  * * *

  December 22

  Luke opened the front door of his parents’ house, ushering Ethan in ahead of him. The merry hum of voices, laughter, clinking glasses and countrified Christmas music all melded together. Any other time, his family’s annual pre-Christmas get-together would’ve lifted his spirits, but not today.

  His mother bustled into the front hall, her smile slipping slightly. “No Christie today?”

  Luke shook his head, not saying anything. He didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t taking his calls, wasn’t answering his texts.

  “Is she working?” asked his mother, and Luke didn’t have the heart to lie to her.

  “Not sure.” He glanced down at Ethan, trying to silently communicate that he didn’t want to discuss it in front of him. Trying to protect him.

  “Ethan, honey, why don’t you go find something to eat?” his mother suggested, and Ethan glanced warily between the two of them before shrugging out of his coat and heading toward the kitchen.

  “Did something happen?” she asked, stepping closer, her arms crossed over her chest.

  Luke slipped out of his own coat and tossed it over the banister. “We had . . .” He shrugged, not sure how much to tell her. “A miscommunication.”

  His mother studied him for a moment, and then smiled reassuringly and gave him a pat on the arm. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. I know you’ll work it out.” Someone called her name, and with another pat, she slipped back into the house, further into the party.

  For the next thirty minutes, Luke tried to enjoy the food, tried to make conversation, tried to get into the Christmas spirit. Tried and failed, on all counts.

  Drifting away from a group of aunts, uncles, and cousins, Luke pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Christie’s number.

  Again.

  For the twelfth time in two days.

  And once again, it went straight to voice mail.

  He’d already left her several messages, asking her to call him. Apologizing for leaving the folder out. Letting her know that he wanted to talk to her. Asking her if she was okay.

  And he’d gotten nothing but silence from her. And it was starting to both worry him and piss him off. Because they had something. A connection. More than that.

  Love.

  He fought the urge to throw his phone against the wall in frustration.

  “What’s going on with you?” Matt strode up to him, a glass of eggnog in one hand, and a piece of candy cane fudge in the other.

  “Nothing.” He tried to smile at his brother, but instead his lips just pressed into a thin line.

  Matt studied him, one eyebrow slightly arched. “When have you ever been able to lie to me?”

  Luke glanced at his phone again and shook his head. Enough was enough. He and Christie needed to talk. “Can you watch Ethan for a bit? I have to go deal with something.” He stuffed his phone in his pocket.

  “Sure. This have something to do with Christie?”

  Luke nodded and blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

  “What did you do?”

  “What makes you think I did something?”

  Once again Matt just looked at him with that stupid fucking eyebrow raised. “Remember what I told you. Earn her trust. Show her you can take care of her. That you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Thanks Stevie.”

  Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “Anytime, Ray.”

  It only took ten minutes to drive from his parents’ to Christie’s, and as he turned his truck down her street, he found himself holding his breath, hoping she was home. He couldn’t take any more of this silence. They needed to talk. Today.

  His pulse sped up when he spotted her SUV in her driveway. He could see the lights of her television flickering against her living-room window in the falling dusk. Pulling up to her curb, he threw the truck in park and, pulse pounding a furious rhythm in his temples, strode to her front door and knocked. After several long seconds, she opened the door.

  He swallowed around the thickness in his throat at the sight of her. Hair in a messy ponytail, wearing her Tulane sweatshirt and yoga pants, she looked pale, sad, and so fucking beautiful he couldn’t quite breathe for a second.

  Her eyes met his and she chewed mercilessly on her bottom lip, not saying anything, not moving except for the scrape of her teeth against her lip.

  “Can I come in? If you hadn’t guessed from all the voice mails I left you, I’d really like to talk.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels.

  She frowned and then nodded, stepping back to give him space to enter.

  “Christie, God . . . I’m sorry for leaving those papers out and then leaving. I didn’t mean to . . . Shit.” He took a few steps into the house and shook his head. “That must’ve really upset you, and I need you to know that that wasn’t my intention at all.” He reached out a hand to stroke her arm, but she spun away from him, retreating into the living room. He suddenly felt too hot, his skin tight and prickling, and he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on the couch. Glancing at the TV, he saw National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation on mute.

  “Luke, I’m the one who’s sorry. I thought maybe you’d get the message if I didn’t take your calls.” She twisted her fingers together, looking at the floor.

  “What message is that?” A long, tense silence hung between them, eating up the air in the room and making the space suddenly feel much too small.

  “That you and Ethan are better off without me and my mess in your lives. I don’t blame you for walking out the way you did. I should’ve told you.”

  He curled his fingers into his palms, wanting to trace his thumb over her cheekbone. “Christie, it’s okay. I’m not mad. I wish you’d told me, but I’m not angry. If I ever come face to face with this Brian guy, I’m gonna beat the shit out of him, but none of this is your fault.” He didn’t blame her, but he also couldn’t ignore the twinge of possessiveness he felt at the thought of strange men looking at sexy, naked pictures of her. At first, he’d been angry that she hadn�
��t told him about the photos, but he’d gotten over that pretty quickly. Mostly, he felt like an asshole for leaving the folder out the way he had.

  “No, it’s not okay.” A single tear slid down her cheek, and she hastily wiped at it with the back of her hand. “You deserve someone better than that. Better than me.”

  “Why don’t you let me decide what I deserve?” he asked softly. He reached out to brush a fresh tear away with the pad of his thumb and felt a small surge of victory when she didn’t back away from him. “Christie.” He slipped a hand under her chin and lifted her face to his, and his stomach dropped like he was at the top of a steep hill on a roller coaster. Taking a deep breath, he said what he’d come to say. What he needed her to know, more than anything. “I’m in love with you.”

  Instead of melting into his arms as he’d hoped, she stiffened, her eyes wide. She swallowed and then stepped back. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t possibly be.” She shook her head as she spoke, not looking at him.

  “Why’s that?” His stomach tightened, its contents swirling unpleasantly.

  Fresh tears spilled over her cheeks, and he ached with the need to wipe them away. She sniffled. “Look at me, Luke. I’m a mess.”

  “None of that is your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. All you did was take sexy pictures of yourself for your boyfriend. That’s not a crime. Lots of people do that.” He crossed his arms, mostly to keep his heart from pounding straight out of his chest.

  “You and Ethan shouldn’t be saddled with my problems.” Her brown eyes met his, and he felt like he might throw up at the pain he saw in them.

  He closed the distance between them again and slid his palm over her cheek. “I’m so sorry that this happened to you, Christie. It’s awful, but if you think I’m going anywhere, you’re wrong.”

  She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. “What if your family found out about the pictures? Other people in the community?” She blew out a long breath and moved back. “Those pictures will probably always be out there. I can’t get them back. Ever.” She turned away from him, closing herself off. Watching her, he could actually feel tiny pieces of his heart breaking into jagged little shards each time she pulled away from him, punishing herself for someone else’s cruelty. Trying to protect him by shredding her own heart in the process.