Page 59 of Snowy Secrets

"He's a very handsome snowman," I say, my voice thick with unshed tears. "You did a great job."

Ginny beams, her smile as bright as the winter sun. She reaches out a tiny hand and grabs mine, her grip surprisingly strong. "Come play?" she asks, her eyes pleading.

"Ginny! Ginny, come back inside right now!"

Bella's voice reaches the two of us, shrill with worry and perhaps anger, too. She's standing at the doorway, her face rosy from the snow, hair falling in soft waves to her waist. She looks livid, but then again, I did just share a moment with her daughter without her permission. I get it now. I wasn't there.

I wasn't there for the endless long nights, for the spit-ups and colic pains, the teething aches, and the vaccines. Bella thinks I'm stepping in when it's gotten nicer, but she doesn't understand. The hard times will return, albeit in different ways. And when they do, I'll stick around. If she lets me.

If she lets me, I'm never leaving again.

Ginny runs to her mother and blows her a kiss before scurrying inside. Bella folds her arms, leaning against a banisteras we approach her. She's looking only at me, because obviously, she's not mad at the others.

"Well?" she draws out the word.

I read between the lines.What'll it be?

"Can we take a walk?" I ask gently and hold out my hand.

27

BELLA

River's eyes light up with surprise when I take his hand. He looks like he expected me to smack it aside and stomp back into the house. A few days ago, maybe I would have done just that. But I'm not so sure anymore. I've had time to think about my life, to think about what Ginny wants and what I want.

The question is—what does the man by my side, his breathing labored and his chest heaving from possibly drinking too much before noon—want?

"I booked a plane ticket," he says, unsurprisingly. Disappointment hits me like a freight train, but I keep my facial features impressively neutral.

"Where to? And when do you leave?"

He doesn't immediately answer. We take a winding path away from the house, in the direction of the gazebo. I haven't been able to go there in all these years. Too many memories.

Evening is upon us, soft and twinkling after the days it hid behind the snowstorm. The yard, blanketed in a pristine layer of snow, glows ethereally in the moonlight. Each delicate snowflake sparkles like a tiny gem, creating a landscape thatfeels almost otherworldly. The trees, heavy with snow, stand as silent sentinels, their branches draped in white, casting shadows on the gravel. Everything smells of longing—like rain and the occasional sun after a very long winter.

A gentle hush has fallen, the usual sounds of the night muffled by the thick snow. The air is crisp and still, carrying the faint scent of pine and the promise of more snow to come. The sky above is clear, dotted with countless stars. In the distance, the faint outline of the mountains can be seen, their peaks glistening under the moon's soft glow.

The world around me is at peace.

River leads me toward the back of the property, obscured now by overgrown shrubs and fallen branches. He moves with a practiced grace, his boots crunching softly in the snow. We emerge onto a clearing, a breathtaking panorama of snow-laden trees and frozen ponds stretching out before us. In the distance, bathed in silver light, stands our old gazebo. It's so silly, but I begin to cry. I don't want him to see me, but if he does, he has the grace to not say anything.

Pulling my coat tighter around me, I narrow my eyes and blink rapidly. The last thing I need right now is to be snotty—but God, it is so hard when the memories come knocking. Tears keep pricking my eyes against my will. This is where it all began, where I foolishly thought River was no more than a fling, a mere spot in the enormity of my youth.

I was selfish, too. But once I fell in love, I grew up. He, on the other hand…

My breathing mists the air in front of us as he gently guides me toward the gazebo, his hand warm against my back. We sit on the weathered wooden bench, our breaths mingling in the frosty air. For a long moment, we remain silent, the only sound the gentle creak of the snow beneath our feet.

"Bella," River begins, his voice barely a whisper, "I have something to tell you." He pauses, his gaze fixed on the shimmering snowscape. "I've always wanted to run."

Well, that's a start. Is he telling me all this as a prelude to his upcoming journey? He continues, his voice gaining strength with each word, "It's the call of the unknown, the lure of adventure, the thrill of the chase."

He takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine. "My father left when I was just a boy. He was a wanderer, a drifter, always chasing the next horizon."

His voice cracks slightly, and he looks away. "I always told myself it was different for me, that I ran in the name of service, for the greater good. But the truth is, there's no excuse for abandoning you, for breaking my promises."

He reaches for my hand, his fingers tracing the delicate lines etched by time and worry. "I should have told you to wait, to hold on, to believe in us. But I was a coward, afraid of what I might lose if I stayed."

His eyes, filled with remorse and longing, search my face for a sign of forgiveness. "I know it's too late for apologies, but I need you to know that I never stopped loving you."

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