"Home!" she yelled back.
Sawyer tipped his head up to the sky-G.o.d save me-and groaned. Ryan paused in his ascent and stood next to him, looking back at April as she stumbled through shin-deep powder.
"Are you going to get her?" he asked.
"No," Sawyer said. "Let her walk it off."
Ryan shrugged and turned back up the hill, he and Sawyer slogging through the snow.
"I can"t believe you actually asked her," Ryan said after a while.
"I don"t want to talk about it," Sawyer said. "Seriously, don"t ever bring that up again."
CHAPTER SEVEN.
April wiped at her eyes as she stumbled through the snow. She cursed herself for crying, the cold air stinging her cheeks as she staggered into the featureless landscape. Swiping at her eyes with her sleeves, she swallowed her sobs, wondering whether she had overreacted; maybe what she had sensed between Sawyer and Jane had been nothing but her own jealousy, insecurity, imagination. It wasn"t as though she"d caught them in the shadows of an empty room.
But the way he looked at her, the way his voice went softer when he spoke to her; it made April"s heart ache. She could see it plainly on Jane"s face: she and Sawyer were sharing some hidden secret.
The snow was deep, nearly up to her knees in places, but she was determined to keep going, if only until her heart untwisted itself. She had no idea how she was going to face any of them again. She"d embarra.s.sed herself, especially with Ryan, sobbing like some hysteric. But the emotion had overwhelmed her-a deluge of frustration that had splintered into temporary insanity. And now Sawyer"s Jeep was stuck in a ravine, they were snowed in for G.o.d knows how long. Those people wouldn"t want anything to do with her again. And Sawyer...
Another sob burst from between her lips.
The way he had taken back the ring, no protest, no anything-Sawyer wouldn"t marry her now. She had seen the look on his face, uncertainty veiling a ghost of relief. She had shown him the darkest part of herself-the anger and jealousy that occasionally took hold of her, consuming her like a fire. It had startled him, and now he"d call the whole thing off, baby or not.
With the snow as deep as it was, each step was an effort. Her expectation of reaching the highway began to dwindle. Her toes began to burn. She wondered whether this was how it felt to be lost, alone, spiraling toward some inevitable fate. The endless expanse of white, the silence, the solitude were overwhelming. She stifled another cry, twisting to look over her shoulder. The road leading up to the cabin was gone, and she wouldn"t have had any idea which direction she had come from had it not been for her tracks. But it was that path that pushed her forward despite the cold. When Sawyer became worried enough, it would be easy to find her. And that was what she wanted. Despite her anger, she wanted him to see how far she"d stalked away from the house-that distance representing the hurt he"d caused. She wanted to hear him call her name, to follow her into the emptiness, to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, a cla.s.sic black-and-white movie moment. d.a.m.n it, April, don"t you know I love you? And then she"d crumple in his arms. All would be forgiven. She"d apologize, beg him to take her back.
A spark of irritation bit at her heart. He should beg her to take him back. This was his fault. He was the one who had made her suspicious. Narrowing her eyes against the glare of the snow, she pushed onward, defiant. Despite her thick woolen socks, her feet burned inside her boots. Her hands hurt, and she cupped them over her mouth and blew against the thinness of her gloves. Glancing over her shoulder again, she saw movement. A spark of elation warmed her from the inside out. He was coming to get her.
If she hadn"t seen the shadows shift behind her at that very moment, she would have started back toward the cabin despite her reluctance. She was starting to freeze, but he was on his way, and she was going to make it as difficult as possible for him to catch up to her. The harder it was for him, the more overjoyed they"d be to be back together.
She picked up her pace, pushing off trees, throwing her weight forward, making her footfalls swifter. There was a clearing ahead and she pictured it in her head-summertime, an expanse of gra.s.s and wildflowers. If they had only waited seven months from now, they could have come to the mountains when it was warm, packed up a picnic lunch and walked to this very clearing, a baby tucked into the crook of April"s arm. Sawyer would have brought his guitar. They would have flown kites and woven dandelions into crowns and done all the hippie bulls.h.i.t that made April roll her eyes. Yet somehow, standing in the cold, seeing the clearing covered in snow, she yearned for warmth, for bologna sandwiches and lemonade and a semblance of family that, up until then, she had never had. A picnic in the mountains didn"t sound so bad as long as he was by her side. She was tired of being damaged. She was ready to let it all go.
She turned back toward Sawyer. Despite their differences, she did love him, she wanted to get married, she was glad the baby was his.
But there was n.o.body behind her. The shadow she"d seen shifted every now and again was still there, lurking. Was he just watching her, making sure that she didn"t go too far?
"Sawyer?" She called the name into the silence, nothing but the howl of wind high up above.
The shadow froze when her voice left her throat.
"Sawyer," she repeated. "Please...I"m sorry. That was crazy. I just...this trip has been hard for me. I got overwhelmed." Her feet were really hurting now. She could hardly feel her toes.
Her nerves buzzed when the shadow shifted once more, because it wasn"t the same shadow she"d been watching. She swallowed against a wave of anxiety. Sawyer wouldn"t have come out here alone. It was probably Ryan. They had been following her all this time. But why hadn"t she heard them talking? Why had they let her come this far?
Because it"s not them, she thought.
Worst-case scenarios spiraled through her head. She had wandered onto someone"s property and the landowner was a psychopath, horror-movie insane. Maybe he lived out in the middle of nowhere because out in the middle of nowhere there wasn"t anyone around to hear the screams. Maybe some maniac had heard her yelling Sawyer"s name, had followed her out here, and was waiting for the perfect time to strike. That was where the blood along the side of the road had come from-some crazy killer ready to slit her throat.
"h.e.l.lo?" Barely a whisper.
She was an idiot. She should have sucked it up, marched back to the cabin, locked herself upstairs for the rest of the weekend. Her breath hitched in her throat. A third shadow shifted beneath the shade of the trees.
"Sawyer?" The name quavered, fear punctuating its syllables.
No response.
It wasn"t him.
She turned away, her breaths coming in gasps now. Those shadows were blocking her way back to the house. She started to walk again, determined to put distance between herself and the trees. Maybe her stalker would back off, not wanting to come into the clearing. Maybe if she screamed loud enough Sawyer would hear her back at the cabin. He and Ryan would find her. They had to. She couldn"t be that far away.
Unable to help herself, the tears came again.
The cabin had settled into an uncomfortable silence. Ryan sat at the table, his chin in his hands, while Jane kept herself busy in the kitchen. Sawyer was alone in the living room, nursing a cup of coffee, staring at a blank television screen, while Lauren spent some time on the deck smoking, then went back upstairs. The tension was stifling, and Ryan considered opening all the doors and windows to air the place out, wondering if the cold would shock them all back into some semblance of normalcy.
It had been ten minutes since he and Sawyer had left April outside, and Ryan could relate to her need to get away. He"d spent most of his life shutting down and clamming up. But he couldn"t help the seed of worry from sprouting in the pit of his stomach. It was cold out there, and the clouds were rolling in fast.
Ryan glanced over to Jane when she sighed and poured a fresh mug of coffee. She looked tired, ravaged by a revelation that hurt more than she had expected. He could see it on her face-the emotional scar that she had tried so desperately to heal freshly opened and bleeding. Jane turned to look at him, forced a broken smile when she realized he"d been watching her the entire time, then took a seat next to him at the table with a downturned chin. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she tried to understand it, trying to figure out how to make things right again. But Ryan doubted there was a way to do that now. Their group had been fractured beyond repair. If it hadn"t been for the snow, all that would have been left to do was to pack up and go home.
"I was going to make another dinner," she started.
"Don"t," he said. "Just take it easy."
"We still have to eat," she protested, staring into the steam of her coffee cup.
The wind picked up outside, howling through the trees. He watched the pines closest to the deck bend against the railing. Jane closed her eyes as if contemplating something.
"When did all of this get so screwed up?" she asked quietly.
Ryan shook his head, sliding his hand across the table to squeeze her fingers in rea.s.surance. Everything was going to be okay. It had been years before, and it would be again.
"I guess I just..." She hesitated, scoffed at the thought that rolled through her head. "I was stupidly hopeful, you know?" She lifted her gaze to look at him. "As much as I hate to say it, I think you should go find her."
He could see it in her eyes-she didn"t want April back any more than he did, but the weather was taking a bad turn. The wind was pushing the clouds fast across the sky. In another fifteen minutes the sun would be blotted out entirely. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he drew his hand across his face. He predicted yelling, lots of slamming doors. It would be like Mom and Dad all over again. He slid her mug over to himself, took a swig, and rose to his feet.
"You should talk to him," he told her, nodding toward the living room. "He feels like s.h.i.t."
"What am I supposed to say?" she asked him.
Ryan tipped his gaze toward the ceiling. "Just tell him you don"t hate him. Don"t forget that when you and Alex shacked up, Sawyer was the first to congratulate you. You think he was happy?"
Jane frowned. "And you think he"s happy now?" she asked, daring to look her brother in the eyes.
But Ryan didn"t hold her gaze for long. The sound of a zipper being pulled upward had his attention drifting across the kitchen to Sawyer.
"I"m going to go bring her in," he told them. "Last thing we need is someone catching pneumonia."
"Don"t," Ryan said. "I"m going right now."
"I"m already dressed," Sawyer protested.
"You"re going to go out there and as soon as you find her there"s going to be another fight," Ryan warned. "You"ll get stuck out there and then the both of you will have pneumonia. Let me go."
Sawyer frowned, looking unsure. He looked to Jane for rea.s.surance, and she slowly offered him a nod.
Ryan waited for Sawyer to step back into the living room before giving Jane a look. Talk to him. And then he turned down the hallway and walked up the stairs.
He paused when he saw Lauren sitting on the sill of the bay window in the upstairs hall. After what he had watched transpire between April and Sawyer outside, he was overwhelmed with the urge to confide in her, to let her know that, yeah, she had his attention. An odd sensation twisted his stomach as soon as she looked his way. It was nerves. He hadn"t felt nervous around a girl in years.
"You okay?" he asked, and she offered him a faint shrug before twisting her hair. He paused next to the window, his shoulder against the wall. "What?"
"I feel bad," she confessed, looking out onto the trees. "For Jane, I mean. Learning about it like that." She paused, meeting Ryan"s gaze. "Did you know?"
Ryan sucked in a breath. Being clued in to the seriousness of Sawyer and April"s relationship but still having chosen to shove Sawyer and Jane into the same house for four days made him feel like s.h.i.t. It had been a selfish attempt to lift some of his own guilt for taking the merger, more money, the move-because if Sawyer could only take his place, he wouldn"t have to feel so bad for leaving Jane behind.
"Really?" Lauren asked, taking his silence as a yes. She gave him a severe look, as if judging him by that single indiscretion. It made him numb, like he couldn"t have screwed up any more even if he had tried. "Did you want this to happen?"
"Of course not," he said somewhat curtly, then looked down at his feet and shook his head. "Of course not," he repeated, his tone softening. "I never wanted any of this. But I"m an idiot. I thought I could change things."
"How?"
"I don"t know."
"You"re lying," she said, sliding off the windowsill to stand in front of him, nearly chest to chest. "It was a chivalrous gesture," she said. "It says a lot about your character. But you"re right, you"re an idiot. This shouldn"t have happened. This is bad all around."
"I"m self-indulgent, irresponsible."
"You don"t need to degrade yourself, Ryan."
"Then what?" he asked, chewing his bottom lip.
"Just make it right. Sit them down and explain it to them. Apologize." She offered him a smile, lifting a hand to slide her fingers along the curve of his jaw. Ryan"s stomach flipped. He closed his eyes, then caught her hand in his, giving it a light squeeze, trying to sequester the b.u.t.terflies that had unfurled their wings inside his chest.
"I want this to work," she whispered, her breath caressing the sh.e.l.l of his ear. "Us, I mean. I want to see where this goes. But I need you to fix this, you understand? I need to know you have that in you, because if Jane can"t trust you with her heart, I certainly can"t trust you with mine."
"Ren." He whispered her name, the tips of his fingers dragging along her arm. She tilted her head as if to listen, allowing the swell of her bottom lip to brush against his. "I"ll fix it, but April"s still outside. I have to go find her."
Lauren leaned back, putting an inch between them before she offered him a quiet laugh. Taking a backward step, she motioned to Ryan that he was free to leave, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. He yearned to kiss her, to have that first intimate moment right there by the window, the snow in the foreground, the both of them standing in his favorite place. But it couldn"t be. Not then. So he did the next-best thing. Lifting her hand in his, he pressed his lips to her knuckles before releasing her fingers. He turned away from her, pointing himself toward his room.
He paused when he heard her speak.
"I"m coming with you," she said. "Give me two minutes." And then she ducked into the master bedroom, and he couldn"t help but smile.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
Jane and Sawyer watched Ryan and Lauren step into the snow from the open kitchen door, Oona following her master. Tracking people in the bitter cold was what Oona had been bred to do, but as soon as the trio reached the deck stairs, the dog hesitated, looking back to the cabin. Confusion washed over Ryan"s face as his dog vacillated between staying and going.
"Maybe it"s too cold," Jane suggested, but she knew that was impossible. These dogs raced the Iditarod. They trekked across Siberia. There was something more to Oona"s reluctance-something that made Jane uncomfortable. It was enough to make her want to pull Lauren and Ryan back inside, refuse to let them go, but it didn"t change the fact that April was out there somewhere and it was growing colder by the minute.
Sawyer had insisted he go out to search with Ryan and Lauren, but Ryan had protested. Both he and Lauren were already dressed in their gear and ready to go, while Sawyer"s stuff was out in his Jeep halfway down the drive. Allowing Sawyer to accompany them would have slowed down the search party, and the snow was starting to fall. Sawyer had eventually relented; leaning against the kitchen island, he pressed b.u.t.tons on his phone as if a certain combination would magically grant him a bar or two of service.
Jane watched him try again to send a text message to April"s phone, only to have it fail like all the others. She looked away, her attention veering back to the dog.
Oona whined at the top of the steps, watching her owner continue without her. She barked as if telling Ryan to stop, then lay down in the snow and put her snout on her paws, offering up a pair of puppy-dog eyes.
"Come on back inside," Jane said. But the dog didn"t respond. Jane shook her head and closed the door, left to stand in a hauntingly quiet house. Sucking in a breath, she narrowed her eyes at her long-abandoned coffee cup upon the counter, then swigged the cold dregs like a shot of tequila.
"Aren"t you hot?" she asked. Sawyer was still wearing the jacket he"d pulled on earlier that morning, as though somewhere in the corner of his mind he was planning on spontaneously getting up and walking out.
Sawyer"s gaze wavered from his phone down to the secondary jacket he"d brought with him-much lighter than the one he had worn s...o...b..arding, insubstantial against what was going on outside.
"Well, you"re making me nervous."
A faint smile crossed his lips, a.s.suring her that he remembered that particular pet peeve. She couldn"t stand it when people kept their coats on with no intention of leaving. It made her anxious, as though the situation hinged on her every word. Abandoning his useless phone on the island, he unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of it, dropping it on to one of the dining table chairs before returning to his original spot. Jane"s attention snagged on his faded black Sisters of Mercy shirt, almost hating him for bringing that particular shirt with him-he must have remembered, must have known.
"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, staring at a well-worn logo against faded black cotton-the outline of a star behind a featureless profile. But he didn"t have to respond for her to know it was the very shirt she had stolen from his room, the one she had slept in after their first night together while his parents had been out of town. Jane had loved that room. It was an extension of its owner, smoky and mysterious, the walls plastered in torn-out magazine pages and band posters. She would sit at his desk, picking dried wax from the varnished top while he played her his favorite songs, stuffing CD after CD into his c.r.a.ppy stereo. That room had always been dark, the red curtain hanging heavy over his window, choking out the daylight. He had books about medieval warfare and music theory; stuff she could hardly wrap her mind around, but she"d flip through them while lying on his bed, inhaling a deliciously noxious mix of cigarettes and candle smoke. Jane had walked away from that relationship with a lot of things: a love for the strange and unusual, a weakness for the scent of clove cigarettes, and an ache in her heart whenever she heard one of the hundreds of songs he would play for her on a loop. But she"d given back that T-shirt. Even after a dozen washes it had held his scent, so she folded it up, tucked it into a box, and mailed it to Boston a few weeks after she had lost him to the world. It was a decision she regretted, a decision that tied her heart into a knot with the shirt"s sudden reappearance.
"Same one," he replied. "A little worse for wear."
Jane looked to her hands. "Why did you bring it?"
Sawyer held his silence for a long while, then pushed away from the island and stepped back toward the table. She watched him dig through one of his pockets before returning, the quiet jingle of metal hitting tile sounding when a ring tumbled from the palm of his hand. She stared at it for what felt like an eternity, knowing that ring as well as that T-shirt. It was the one he used to wear on his thumb-the one she used to spin when they held hands.
She shook her head, not understanding what he was trying to say.
"She gave it back," he said "Told me to give her a real one if I still wanted to."
Jane bit her bottom lip, wanting to reach out and touch that old memento as though doing so would somehow bring back the past. "And are you going to?" she asked softly, afraid to meet his gaze. She pressed her lips together in a tight line, shaking her head. "Sorry, that"s none of my business."
"Isn"t it?"
She blinked up at him, suddenly desperate to reach out, to grab his hand and crawl under his arm.
"Did you want to get married?" he asked, pushing his hair behind his ears.
She swallowed against his question, frowning at the floor. "Yeah, I mean..." She raised a single shoulder up to her ear.