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She headed upstairs, finding Carmine waiting for her. Haven put on some extra clothes before grabbing her coat. She wore so many layers she had a hard time walking down the stairs. The group headed for the back door, and Dominic collapsed to the ground right away, sending white stuff flying everywhere. He formed snowballs to pelt Carmine with, and Haven laughed as he threw some back. The fighting got out of control quickly. Haven ducked as Dia ran, snowballs barely missing them both. Tess wasn’t lucky, though, and one slammed her in the chest.
Dia wandered off to snap pictures as Haven crouched down, running her hand through a pile of snow. She could feel the coldness through her gloves, the air chilly against her flushed face. She watched it drift through her fingers, captivated by the way it crunched when she made a fist.
The burden on her heart lessened. Just for a while, she allowed her guilt to ease.
Carmine strolled over to her. “Wanna go for a walk, tesoro?”
She nodded and trudged through the snow behind him. They hit the tree line, and Carmine took her gloved hand as they walked out toward the creek. He paused a foot away from it and glanced down at the rushing water, a look of longing embedded in his features. She stared at him, and he must have sensed her gaze, because he smirked after a second. “Like something you see?”
She nudged him. “You know I do.”
They stood under the trees, hand in hand, as two squirrels ran by. Haven watched as they chased each other through the snow before scaling the tree beside them and leaping onto a branch. She ducked, realizing what they were doing, but Carmine was too slow. He looked up in time for one of the squirrels to hit a pile of snow and send it flying into his face.
“Son of a bitch!” he said, pulling his hand from hers to brush the snow away. She laughed as she watched him, and he cut his eyes to her. “Something funny?”
She bit her lip to hold in the laughter. The moment she finally got herself under control, the squirrel came running along the tree again, more of the snow falling onto Carmine.
There was a mischievous glint in Carmine’s eye when Haven laughed again. She turned to run as he started toward her, recognizing the expression from the fiasco with the dishwasher, but she only got a few steps away before her foot caught on something. She fell into the snow face-first, a rush of cold instantly overtaking her body.
“See?” Carmine said. “That’s what happens when you laugh at me.”
She rolled over to look at him and tossed a handful of snow at his chest. “And that’s what happens when you laugh at me.”
He chuckled, pulling her to her feet. “You’re covered now.”
She shrugged. “It’s just water.”
“Just water? You can get frostbitten, or sick, or even pneumonia. Fuck, there’s hypothermia. All sorts of things could happen. You might lose a toe.”
“Carmine, I was born prematurely in the horse stables, and I survived. I’ve had the daylights beaten out of me, and I survived. I’ve had a gun shoved against my throat, and I survived. It’s frozen water . . . I’ll survive.”
“So you’re saying you’re a survivor again?”
“Yes,” she said. “And I just got my thesaurus, so I haven’t had time to find other words for it.”
“Carry on,” he said. “Keep living. Remain alive.”
“Aren’t they definitions?”
“Synonym, definition . . . same difference. It’s just a technicality.”
Staring at him, Haven fought back her laughter again. “I don’t think that’s the word you want.”
He ignored her. “You know, I was premature too. A few weeks early. My mom always wanted a bunch of kids, but they stopped after me. I never understood why.”
His voice was wistful. Haven closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe they realized they created perfection with you and didn’t need any more.”
“I’m far from perfect, Haven,” he said. “I have more flaws than I do good parts.”
“You have flaws, but that’s part of what makes you wonderful. You are perfect—perfect for me.” She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly before whispering against his lips. “Besides, flaws, no flaws, perfect, not perfect . . . they’re probably just technicalities, too.”
The sound of Carmine’s laughter warmed her frozen skin.
24
Vincent stood in the family room, gazing into the backyard at the kids playing in the snow. He couldn’t recall the last time he saw both of his boys happy at the same time. For years he watched his youngest in a perpetual state of turmoil, his soul broken and heart torn. Vincent blamed himself for that, for not doing more to ease his worries.
His child, so much like Maura—Vincent had failed him long ago.
