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“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Melissa,” he whispered, his voice breaking.###
Rowe wasn’t home. Snow bit back a curse and gripped his steering wheel, staring at the dark two-story house. He’d lingered at Spring Grove in the bitter cold for another hour, standing in silent vigil as Melissa’s family appeared at the gravesite to mourn. But he should have left, followed directly after Rowe. He needed to see him, needed to peer into his eyes and see if any of the happy friend remained. He wanted to ask about the SUV because it was driving him nuts. Gratton showing up, chasing Snow down, and then the accident all so close together.
He’d go talk to Lucas after he left here, tell him what he thought might be happening. His damn brain was clogged with too much Rowe, too much Melissa. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly. Lucas would be able to make sense of it, settle his fears.
Familiar darkness swelled inside him. He wanted…something. He wished he knew what. He’d tried the hook-up apps and after one too many assholes, decided those didn’t work for him. Scenes didn’t appeal to him and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Lucas for help again. He had a few months back—demanded his friend’s help to find someone who liked things rough—and he was still ashamed about bringing his friends into the fucked up space that was his mind sometimes. He’d spent the last few years keeping that side of himself wrapped tight. Ever since Lucas had egged him into losing his temper on him. Fiery regret still ached like fourth degree burns on his heart over that experience.
But last night, he’d caved. Tried that stupid app one more time. He’d been looking for a certain twisted answer and he’d found it. Funny how sometimes it was the biggest guys who liked being pushed around. This one had put up a fight for show, but ended up giving Snow a couple of bruises that pissed him off because he had to come up with some bullshit explanation for them at work. And now, for Lucas. What was worse, Snow got nothing from the encounter other than an orgasm and the rusty taste of shame that still lingered twenty-four hours later. He didn’t know what the hell he needed these days because he wasn’t finding it in the things that used to take him out of his own polluted brain space.
That kiss with Jude came to mind and he shoved it aside fast. That man unnerved him in a way he didn’t like.
He turned a full circle, taking in the other two-story houses with their lit windows, and established maples, oaks and evergreens. A few cars lined the narrow street and dogs barked from yards and houses. No dog sounds came from Rowe’s. His pack never failed to drown out all other dogs. He used his key to open the house and typed in the security code on the panel by the door.
The air was cooler than it should have been, as if Rowe had lowered the heat so that it only kept the pipes from freezing. Snow walked into the kitchen, stopping at the sound of crunching glass under his shoe. He flipped on the light and his own heart took another beating. Mel’s wall of coffee mugs had been smashed to pieces. She’d been collecting them for years. Big mugs with funny sayings. Rowe had designed a wall in the kitchen with rows of iron mug hooks. They had ranged from silly to outright disgusting and she’d loved them all.
A golf club lay on the floor amongst the shattered remnants of Mel’s sense of humor.
Snow rubbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes. Felt like someone was reaching into his chest to squeeze his lungs because getting air inside wasn’t happening.
His stomach cramped and a prickling wave of grief hit him mid-center and spread fast. He walked to the sectional and sank down, resting his head in his hands. Damn. Blindly staring at the coffee table before him cluttered with well-worn magazines and entertainment center remotes, Snow’s mind unexpectedly drifted to memories of his father when his mother was dying and they were too poor and too damn religious to get her the help she needed. The man had always been a heavy drinker, but that summer, he’d basically crawled inside a bottle and never came back out.
As far as Snow knew, he was still there in that tiny, dark house in Collinsville, Oklahoma—though that would be a miracle. Still alive after the way he lived on nothing but hot dogs, cheap whiskey and bible verses. To this day, Snow couldn’t stand the smell of frying hot dogs and he hadn’t eaten one since he’d left his home state.
Cursing himself and life in general, he shoved to his feet and hurried to the door. He had to get out of there. Find Rowe. Stepping outside, his foot hit something hard and he stumbled. Light from inside streamed onto the porch, falling onto the large rock right in the middle of his path.
