Page 25 of By Firelight


Font Size:  

His compliance made them both a little crazy.

In the aftermath, the room was quiet, quiet enough to hear the steady drip, drip, drip of melting snow.

Maddy felt . . . Well, she wasn’t sure what she felt. She was afraid to look at Grant. Her behavior made her wince. When she stood up, he didn’t stop her. She went to the bathroom to shower and change, ruefully donning the same old clothes, but glad at least to have the other pair of undies she had washed and left to dry on the towel bar. She brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail with the same old rubber band. Until now she had never realized how much she took her nice wardrobe and her many toiletries for granted.

She heard the phone ring, the unfamiliar sound jarring in the cozy little cabin. Curious, she hovered in the living room, listening as Grant answered and his deep voice filled with warmth and affection.

The person on the other end was clearly someone of importance. She pushed back a curtain and gazed bleakly at the melting snow. The thermometer on the porch measured forty-five degrees. The thaw had arrived with a vengeance. She wanted to cry and scream and bawl like a baby. She and Grant needed more time. They hadn’t even begun to—

Well, that was the kicker. They had begun something, she just wasn’t sure what it was. As he was making his good-byes, she casually entered the kitchen, as though she hadn’t been avidly straining to hear his every word.

“That was my sister, Beth,” he said, his eyes alight with happiness. “The rug rats are missing me. They want me to drive up for a late dinner tonight.”

Her heart thudded as it hit the floor. Her numb lips twisted in a smile. “You should go. My apartment’s in Charlottesville. You could drop me there if you don’t mind.”

His smile faded. “What’s this?” he asked, his words laced with tender concern. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

“Christmas is for family, Grant. You need to get there as quickly as you can.” She smiled, but it was an effort.

He held her shoulders. “I want you to come with me.”

She shook her head violently. “It wouldn’t be right. Your family wants to spend time with you, not a stranger you met three days ago.”

Temper flashed in his eyes, taking her by surprise. “Don’t do this, Maddy,” he ground out, his teeth clenched.

She shrugged, the ache in her chest threatening to consume her. “The magic is over, Grant. The snow is melting. We both knew we would have to go back eventually. You can’t shut out the world forever.”

Grant listened, incredulous, as his nebulous dreams turned to ashes. She had cut him loose so fast he was having trouble making sense of it all. He tried one last time. “Then we’ll both stay here. That was my original plan, anyway. The family will understand.”

She shook her head a second time, and now the regret in her eyes was no longer veiled. “Christmas is for families,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re lucky to have people who love you so much. Go to them. They need you. It’s important.”

She walked out of the kitchen. He stood there for long moments, his arms hanging at his sides. Old Santa Claus was a mean son of a bitch—to give a present and then snatch it away. If he found the fat old guy in a dark alley, he’d beat the stuffing out of him.

Anger swept in, masking the dull pain. He wouldn’t beg. It took two people to make a relationship, and he didn’t need a woman who couldn’t even last through the first tough spot. He flashed back for a moment to an image of Maddy sprawled by the fire, her lips curved in a smile of invitation. His throat closed up, and he swallowed hard. How had this soured so quickly?

* * *

They didn’t speak after that. Since Maddy had very little of her own to clean up, she finished zipping her backpack and then began tidying the rest of the cabin. There were blankets to fold, dishes to wash and dirty laundry to be bundled into a garbage bag. She found Grant’s cooler on the back porch and unloaded the few remaining perishables from the fridge. The other food she tucked in a cardboard box.

She had no idea what to do about the Christmas tree, but she unplugged the lights and, as an afterthought, retrieved the poem she’d tucked in the branches. Somehow she doubted that Grant would appreciate it now. He was so angry with her, but she knew in her heart she was right. He needed to be with his family. And as for his impulsive invitation . . . Well, it was tempting. But imagining the questions about their relationship made her cringe. Three days? They would think Grant had lost his mind. And they might be right.

He was busy draining the pipes and stacking all the firewood he had cut onto the porch. By noon the temperature had climbed to the lower fifties. He finally came inside, and when she looked at him inquiringly, he handed her the small package that had been under the tree. “Merry Christmas,” he said, his eyes shuttered.

She opened it, her mouth curving in a smile when she saw what it was. With a few pencil strokes, Grant had captured Van Gogh’s mournful eyes and the dog’s delight at being in Maddy’s lap. She looked up to thank him, but he had disappeared again. She bit her lip and sighed. Feeling an unutterable sadness, she tucked the small drawing inside a book in her pack for safekeeping.

They left shortly after, having exchanged no more than a dozen words since morning. Van Gogh slumbered in the backseat.

The winding gravel road leading down the mountain was slightly dangerous but not impassable. The only real trouble spots were places in the shade where not as much snow had melted. Maddy thought a couple of times that the Jeep might get stuck, but in each instance, Grant wrestled with the wheel until they were moving forward again. At the base of the mountain, the gravel surface gave way to pavement, and soon the little two-lane road led to the interstate.

It took just over two hours to get to Charlottesville. When they reached the outskirts of the city, Grant slowed and asked for directions, his voice gruff. When they pulled up in front of her apartment complex, Maddy grabbed her bag and prepared to jump out. She was more than ready to escape the awkward silence.

Grant stopped her, keeping the doors locked. “Not so fast. I’m coming upstairs with you.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the glare on his face silenced her. At the door she had to fumble deep in her pack to find the house key. As they went inside, stale air made her wrinkle her nose.

She dropped her backpack on a chair and faced Grant, her stomach churning with nerves. “Thanks for rescuing me,” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice she didn’t feel.

He ignored her glib comment. Slowly, he gave himself a tour of her small apartment, pausing to pick up a photograph here and there, a CD, a knickknack. She trailed after him. He wandered down the hall and found her bedroom. After a cursory look inside, he moved on to her office.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like