Page 81 of Snowman

But it was enough.

TWENTY FIVE

BREE

I didn’t know whatday it was. I didn’t know if I would stay here like this forever, or if he would come back. He hadn’t spent the night. I was alone, bruised, and waiting for him within the cold walls of this house. I needed him. I needed him to come back and tell me that everything would be okay. I needed to hear his voice promising that no matter how hard it got,wewould be okay.

But no matter how hard I tried to imagine a brighter outcome, the reality always dragged me deeper. It always seemed worse, no matter which ending I dared to hope for.

And it was breaking me.

Piece by piece, I was falling apart.

I sat at the bottom of the staircase, wrapped in his white shirt. It hung loose on me, oversized, but it had his scent, and that was enough to make me feel like he was still near. On my lap, I gathered the ripped parts of my clothes, picking them up pieceby piece from the stairs. My fingers trembled as I fought back tears.

Not again. Please, not again.

My gaze drifted to the door. The axe was still lodged in it. I had always managed to imagine some kind of ending, to escape, but this time, my mind was blank. Should I just leave? Should I find my way to somewhere, anywhere, or should I wait?

If I waited too long, would I miss a chance to feel alive again? Even if I was broken, with the shadow of despair pressing against my brain, I still hoped for something more. I wanted to grow old, and gray. I wanted to tell someone that I had lived, that I had survived whatever this life had thrown at me.

And yet, here I was. Watching. Choosing him. Even when he walked away because cooling down was easier for him than facing me.

Then I heard the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house. My heart leaped before I could think. I sprang to my feet, the pieces of fabric slipping from my lap and scattering onto the floor. The sound was drowning out every single thought from before as I ran to the front door and opened it, throwing it wide.

I saw him.

He was in the car, staring at me through the windshield. His hands rested on the steering wheel, his eyes hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get out. But I needed him to. I needed him to come to me, to wrap me in his arms, to make everything else disappear.

I needed him.

Without thinking, I rushed down the steps of the house, the door left swinging ajar behind me. The icy snow stung my bare feet, but I didn’t stop. My heart thundered in my chest as I ran toward the car, towardhim.

The door opened, and he stepped out. As he closed the distance between us, I didn’t wait. I jumped into his arms,wrapping myself around him, my hands clasped tightly around his neck, my legs locking at his hips. I held on as if letting go would break me completely.

His hands pressed against my back, locking me as he carried me toward the house. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to.

Everything we couldn’t say was in that one embrace.

I needed him more than air, I needed him more than water, and he was the food that fueled my soul. Even though it hurt so damn much, I still wanted him. I wanted him more than life, I wanted him more than love, and he was the need that fueled my heart. Even when I broke apart, just seconds away from him, I knew I belonged—here, with him. In hell or heaven, I didn’t care, as long as I was by his side.

The door clicked shut behind us. He lowered me to the floor, his face hovering above mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“I’m sorry I left,” he finally murmured. “I never should have.”

I silenced him with a kiss, my lips meeting his before he could say more. I stood on my tiptoes to reach him, my fingers tracing the back of his neck, grounding us together.

He pulled me closer, lifting me, his arms tightening as if he couldn’t bear to let go. He stole my breath away,again.

“I know,” I whispered against his lips. “It’s okay.”

His forehead pressed against mine, his skin brushing softly, his eyes searching mine. “I had a rough night,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “All I want is to lie down with you and forget the rest of the world.”

He set me gently on the floor, his hand still in mine as I tugged him toward the stairs. “Then let’s forget the world,” I said softly.

But he stopped.

His hand tightened around mine, and I turned around to face him.

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