Page 58 of Snowy Secrets

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. The whiskey churns in my stomach, a sour taste rising in my throat. "I didn't?—"

"But you did," he interjects coldly. "You kept sending her away, and now that there's finally a chance for you to redeem yourself, you damn well go and do it again. The fuck is wrong with you?"

"What?" I mumble defensively, shaking my empty glass at him. "How'd you know what I'm gonna do?"

"It's you. You're always running." Marcus's voice has risen. He's telling me deeply hurtful but very true things, and they're grating on my nerves. "It's the easy way out, River."

Damn him. I hurl my glass to the other end of the room. It smashes against the wall, breaking into a million small shards that catch the light. Each fragment glints mockingly, shattered and broken. The sunlight streaming through the window dances off the broken pieces, casting fractured reflections around the room.

I stare at the chaos I've created, my breath ragged, feeling as fragmented as the shards on the floor. The tiny points of light pierce through my rage. My pain, once contained, now lies scattered, exposed in the cruel daylight. The sharp edges glisten with a menacing beauty, each one a tiny dagger.

Shadows lengthen across my heart, creeping into the corners of my mind, threatening to engulf me completely. The darkness swells, whispering that just like the glass, I am irreparably broken.

"I have nothing left," I murmur wearily.

"You have everything left," Marcus counters sonorously. "The question is, will you take it all, or the easy way out? Becausebreaking her heart is simpler, River. And you're doing it again, like you did all those years ago."

I flinch at his accusation, the truth of his words cutting deep. "I didn't have a choice," I mumble, my voice barely audible. "I had to go. I had a duty."

"Duty?" Marcus scoffs. "Then what is it now? You call abandoning the woman you love and the daughter you never knew duty? And you know what? You're not the only one who's been hurt by your actions."

That's it, that's all I can take. I sink down on the chair, my whole body trembling. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"I'm not giving up on you, River," Marcus continues, his voice softening. "But you need to stop giving up on yourself. We need to go after Bella. Fight for her, for Ginny. Show them that you're not the same man who left all those years ago."

"What if it all goes to hell?" I ask him, my eyes smarting from the tears I refuse to weep.

"Then it is what it is," he replies with a shrug. "But," he says, pausing a second, "what if it doesn't, and you get everything you ever wanted in this life?"

Damn it. I stand up, my legs unsteady. "I'm going to find her," I announce, my voice rough with emotion. "I'm going to tell her how I feel, how much I regret everything."

Marcus nods, a hint of a smile finally playing on his lips. "That's my boy," he says, clapping me on the back. "Now go get a shower first, and then some food in your stomach. We aren’t going to get her back with you looking and smelling like this."

Right. Of course. Over the next hour, I do the needful—which is quite a lot because I am shaking the whole while. The ride over to Jonathan's home is quiet, with Marcus and Wyatt watching me warily. We park at a reasonable distance from the house and step out.

The crunch of snow under my boots is the only sound that breaks the silence as we approach Bella's father's house. A sprawling ranch house nestled among snow-covered hills, it's a picture of warmth and welcome against the stark winter landscape. But the warmth I feel isn't from the promise of shelter. It's the nervous heat of anticipation

Marcus claps a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Chin up, brother," he says, his breath misting in the frosty air. "We're in this together."

We trudge up the snow-covered path, our boots leaving a trail of dark footprints in the pristine white. The front door is slightly ajar, a wisp of warm air escaping into the frigid afternoon.

As we round the corner of the house, a burst of laughter fills the air, cutting through the crisp winter silence. My heart skips a beat as I spot Ginny, bundled up in a pink snowsuit, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She's standing beside a snowman, a lopsided creation with a carrot nose and coal eyes, but to her, it's a masterpiece.

My breath catches in my throat as I watch her, a miniature version of Bella, with the same fiery red hair peeking out from beneath her woolen cap and sparkling green eyes filled with joy. She's a living, breathing testament to the love Bella and I shared, a love I foolishly threw away.

A wave of longing crashes over me, a desperate yearning to hold her, to protect her, to be the father she deserves. My knees creak as I kneel down in the snow, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Hey there, little one," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Is that your snowman?"

Ginny turns to me, her eyes widening with surprise. For a moment, time stands still. Then, a slow smile spreads across herface, revealing a dimple in her left cheek, a mirror image of her mother's.

"Yes!" she exclaims, her voice muffled by her scarf. "His name is Mr. Fluffypants."

I can't help but chuckle at the name. "Mr. Fluffypants, huh? He looks like a friendly fellow."

Ginny nods enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with pride. She points a tiny mitten-clad finger at the snowman's lopsided hat. "I made him!" she declares, her voice filled with pride.

My heart aches with a mixture of joy and regret. A daughter. A daughter who knows her father's touch, who cherishes the moments they've shared. A daughter I almost missed out on entirely.

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