When Snow Falls

by Brenda Novak

  She was just finishing breakfast before heading to the closest mall in Sacramento when her sister wandered into the kitchen.

  “Thought I heard you.”

  “Sorry. Was I louder than usual?”

  “No, I wanted to catch you before you left.” She squinted at the clock on the wall. “Wow, it’s after noon?”

  Cheyenne swallowed the last of her frosted wheat cereal. “Yeah. I’m not going to work today. I’ve got some errands to run before Christmas.”

  A strange expression came over Presley’s face. She folded her arms and leaned against the wall.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Feeling awkward and immediately aware of the secret she was keeping—also known as Dylan—Cheyenne set down her spoon.

  “What’s going on with you these days?” Presley asked.

  She drew her eyebrows together to add another degree of believability to her act. “Nothing. Why?”

  “You’ve been different since your friends left. Everything okay?”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, she got up and put her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher. For a second, she’d worried that her sister was going to call her out on their tempting neighbor. “Fine.”

  “You sure?”

  Cheyenne slipped on her coat, which she’d draped over a chair. “Yes.”

  “Because Aaron told me something last night that has me a little confused.”

  Now she was nervous again. “Last night? I thought you were working.”

  “I was. I stopped by his place on my way home.”

  “What did he have to say?” She didn’t want to ask. She was afraid Dylan had told his brothers about their romantic liaison. It would certainly be a fitting revenge....

  “That he saw Dylan’s bike here last weekend.”

  “Here?” she echoed. She didn’t know what else to say. At least Dylan hadn’t blown the whistle.

  “In our driveway.”

  Cheyenne pretended a sudden preoccupation with putting on lip gloss. He’d only been here for a couple of hours but, apparently, that had obviously been long enough for someone to notice his motorcycle. It was a miracle no one had spotted her car at his place on Monday—although he lived even farther from town, and not many people had to go by his place in order to get home. Except for Carl Inera, the ones who did wouldn’t be up and about that late.

  “Do you know why?” Presley asked.

  Cheyenne met her gaze. “Maybe he stopped by to see you.”

  Presley’s eyebrows shot up. “In the middle of the night?”

  “Sometimes you’re home.”

  “I wasn’t on Sunday.” She shoved off from the wall and moved closer. “You’re not seeing Dylan Amos, are you, Chey?”

  Cheyenne’s stomach tightened, which immediately made her regret eating. She couldn’t tell anyone, other than Eve, that she’d been with Dylan, especially Presley. She believed her sister would never do anything intentionally to hurt her, but she could get high or drunk and let the secret slip. Or she could use Cheyenne’s association with Dylan to justify her own selection of friends. Cheyenne was afraid that if Presley didn’t break away from the people she’d been hanging out with and quit using, she’d wind up dead.

  She planned to lie, but she couldn’t do it quite as blatantly as the situation called for. “He came by and we talked a little, okay?”

  “You talked.”

  She fished her keys out of her purse. “That’s right.”

  Presley sauntered closer. “So…will you be talking again?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re not interested in him?”

  This time she didn’t qualify her response, because she so desperately wanted what she said to be true. “No, not at all.” She started out the back door, since she’d parked her Oldsmobile in the carport, then hesitated. “How’d he get that scar on his temple? Do you know?”

  Presley opened the cupboard and pulled out the Cheerios. “A bunch of guys jumped Aaron at a bar over a comment he made, or money he owed or…something. I can’t remember exactly.”

  “And Dylan got involved?”

  “You can’t mess with one of his brothers and not expect Dylan to jump in.” Silverware rattled as she opened the drawer. “He put two of those guys in the hospital. But he came away with a piece of glass from a broken bottle in his temple. Aaron once told me if it’d gone in another fraction of an inch, Dylan would’ve been blinded.”

  “So he’s as good at fighting as we’ve always heard.” Their high school had been abuzz with the news of Dylan dropping out of school to take over his dad’s business. He’d grown even more infamous when he’d become an MMA fighter shortly after.

  “Apparently. He won a lot of matches.” She poured milk on her cereal. “The way Aaron tells it, after their dad went to prison, getting in the cage was the only way Dylan could keep a roof over their heads.”

  “He had the auto body shop.”

  Presley held the cereal box so she could read the back of it and spoke between mouthfuls. “Yeah, but his dad wasn’t the same after their mother died. He’d let the business fall to crap. It took Dylan several years to build the shop into what it is today.”

  So Dylan deserved the credit for that. “He’s a survivor.” She was talking more to herself than to Presley, but her sister glanced up.

  “He can be gentle, too. Especially with Mack. Aaron’s always complaining about the way Dylan babies Mack.”

  Cheyenne straightened. She was afraid to hear the answer to this question, but she had to ask it. “Does Dylan do drugs?”

  “He’s partied over the years, but…he doesn’t anymore. He might have a beer or two. That’s about it. We tease him that he’s getting old.” Presley’s grin faded, and she narrowed her gaze. “You are interested in him, aren’t you!”

  “No.” Cheyenne shook her head.

  “Yes, you are! I can tell! I think you should go out with him. He’s not as bad as everyone says.”

  Just having her sister recommend him was enough to scare her off. She knew Presley would find it hilarious if Cheyenne were to fall for one of the guys she’d always warned her against. But Presley seemed genuinely excited by the idea. And Cheyenne could understand that, too. It meant Cheyenne would finally like something Presley liked. “He’s not my type, Pres.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do.”

  “No, you don’t. You’ve never even been around him.” She held her spoon midway to her mouth but seemed to have forgotten about eating. “I have the night off. You should go over there with me.”

  The car keys were beginning to cut into Cheyenne’s hand, she was holding them so tightly. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you should see what he’s like—at least enough to realize what you’re turning away.”

  “I’ve seen what he’s like.”

  “No, you haven’t, or you wouldn’t be asking me about him. Get to know him. Don’t make your decision based on gossip. You hate it when people judge you because of me and Mom.”

  That got to her. But what would Dylan think if she suddenly showed up at his house with her sister?

  “He wouldn’t want me there,” she said. Not after what she’d told him last night. She’d felt his resolution, the sense of finality when he’d left her at the B and B.

  “Are you kidding? I’m sure he’d love it. If not, he can tell you to leave.”

  “And who’ll watch Mom?”

  “What about Marcy?”

  “She hasn’t been here in weeks. Mom’s gotten a lot worse since then.”

  “She’s a nurse, Chey. I think she can handle it.”

  “But it’s the holidays!”

  “Won’t hurt to ask. I bet she’d be willing. She said we could call her anytime we need a break. You know she really wants to help. Or we can call hospice and see if they have anyone to suggest.”

  “I don’t know....”

  “For God’s sake, take a risk! You
always play it so safe.”

  Because she had to compensate for the rest of her family! Their behavior forced her to the opposite end of the spectrum.

  But Presley had a point. If Marcy could watch Anita, maybe she should at least learn enough about Dylan to make an informed decision. Otherwise, how could she say Joe was really the better choice?

  “Fine.”

  Presley blinked in surprise. “Really?”

  Cheyenne could guess what her friends would say. They’d warn her to stay away from Dylan; Eve already had.

  But she was the one who’d have to live with her decision. “Really.”

  * * *

  Dylan was in a terrible mood. He blamed it on an argument with Aaron at work and the fact that Saturday was their busiest—and therefore his most stressful—day. But he usually managed just fine regardless of the challenges he faced at the shop. And he doubted he would’ve gotten into it with Aaron in the first place if he’d had a little more patience.

  It was Cheyenne. She was driving him crazy. He’d told himself he wouldn’t speak to her or touch her ever again. Yet that was all he wanted to do. Thoughts of her—her lips parting when he kissed her, her body arching into him as he cupped her breast, her soft gasp when he touched her in a way she particularly liked—intruded no matter what he was doing or how hard he tried to distract himself. Sometimes he even thought he could smell her perfume.

  It didn’t help that he hadn’t used any protection at The Gold Nugget last night. She could be carrying his child. He wondered how she might react to that.

  He wondered how he’d react to it.

  Maybe what he was going through served him right. He supposed he was due for a little poetic justice. He’d never fallen hopelessly in love. He’d made fun of other guys who’d let a woman get the best of them, found it funny that they could no longer think straight. That they were so willing to sacrifice their pride, so willing to act like idiots, drooling over women who didn’t want them.

  He’d promised himself that would never be him. Until now it’d been easy. He still wasn’t sure quite where he’d gone wrong. He’d been traveling through life quite comfortably—had pretty much hit cruise control after conquering the problems of the past decade—and then he’d run into Cheyenne in the park and the earth had dropped away.

  But he wasn’t going to give in and see her, wouldn’t allow her to manipulate his emotions. He didn’t care how much his self-denial made him suffer. At least he’d suffer on his own terms.

  “Shit, Dyl, you look like you’re ready to hit somebody,” Mack said as he climbed into Dylan’s Jeep so they could head home for the day.

  Dylan wanted to hit somebody. He needed an outlet for the tension coursing through him. But it wasn’t until Mack pointed it out that he realized he’d been glowering, and that he had a death grip on the steering wheel. Forcing himself to ease up, he smiled ruefully. “Hard day.”

  Mack shrugged. “Was it? Seemed about the same as any other day to me.”

  “Aaron and I got into it again.” He tried to fall back on that, but Mack kept him honest.

  “You and Aaron get into it all the time.”

  Dylan let the engine idle as he waited for Aaron, Grady and Rod, who were in Grady’s Explorer, to pass through the gate ahead of them. He always left last, so he could lock up. It was a ritual. “I’m worried about him.”

  Mack sighed. “I know.”

  “Where’s he getting it?” Dylan rolled through the gate, then stopped so he could go back and fasten the padlock. But he paused for Mack’s answer before getting out.

  With a scowl, Mack stared after his brothers. Dylan didn’t need to explain what “it” was. “I have no idea.”

  “It’s not Carl.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Dylan could tell Mack felt torn. He didn’t want to narc on one brother to another. But Dylan didn’t want to play the role of parent, either. It was just that he had no choice. He’d been thrust into that position, and because he loved his brothers, he didn’t have the luxury of handling it any other way. He’d tried being cool, letting Aaron cope with his own problems. That wasn’t working.

  “You’d tell me, though, right?”

  Mack pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he dropped his hand and turned to face Dylan. “Yeah. I’d tell you.”

  “What about Presley?”

  “She could be bringing it.”

  “So what do I do about that?”

  “I guess you’ll have to have a talk with her.”

  Dylan put the Jeep in Park and opened the door. “Yeah, I guess I will,” he said, but they both knew the risks. Once Aaron found out Dylan had gotten involved, there’d be another fight. And this time, Aaron could very likely leave. He’d come close to it before.

  If that happened, they might lose the grip they had on him and he could drift away for good.

  * * *

  Cheyenne was so nervous she almost backed out.

  “Come on. You said you’d go,” Presley whispered.

  They were in the bathroom, where Cheyenne was just finishing her makeup. Marcy had already arrived to take care of Anita and might be able to hear them in the kitchen, so they were keeping their voices down.

  “He’s not expecting me,” she said.

  “He doesn’t have to be expecting you. This is casual. We’re just going to drop by and say hello, see what they’re doing.”

  “We hired a nurse. How is that casual?”

  “Maybe we wanted to go out together for a change.”

  That brought up a subject Cheyenne didn’t want to broach—the fact that they rarely did this sort of thing, that they lived in separate worlds, except when they were at home. So she didn’t point out how unusual that would be. “It’ll be awkward to show up out of the blue.”

  “It’ll be fine. Come on.”

  With a final look in the mirror, Cheyenne sighed. She’d committed herself. She’d even bought a new pair of jeans and some boots. Presley wouldn’t let her back out. “I’m glad we have a chance to go out as sisters,” she said, trying to bolster her conviction. “We’ve been playing tag team for so long.”

  Presley smiled. “Exactly. See? There you go. We’ll drive to Sacramento and catch a movie if the Amos boys are busy. You may not even see him.”

  A movie, any movie, sounded relaxing by comparison. And yet Cheyenne knew she’d be disappointed if they had to resort to plan B. Dylan had been on her mind all day. Some of her memories of him were quite erotic, but she wasn’t going to get physical with him again. She wanted to start over—at the beginning this time—to figure out what kind of man he really was. “Let me grab my coat.”

  It hadn’t snowed for a week, but the weather report said another storm was on its way, so they drove over in Presley’s Mustang instead of walking.

  “You okay?” Presley asked, giving her hand a squeeze before they got out.

  Cheyenne could see a number of vehicles in the garage, the drive, the side yard. It looked like everyone was home, including Dylan. His Jeep and his bike were parked in their usual spots. “Are you sure you don’t want to go straight to the movies and skip this part?”

  Presley chuckled. “Nice try.”

  After taking a second to gather her resolve, Cheyenne followed her sister across the lawn to the front door. Then she stood there, biting her lip, trying to alleviate the anxiety.

  Mack answered their knock, amidst the barking of Dylan’s dogs. “Hey, Presley.” His eyes shifted to Cheyenne. Cheyenne thought she saw some surprise there, but he covered his reaction with a nod of acknowledgment.

  “Aaron around?” Presley asked.

  “He is.” He stepped to one side. “Come on in.”

  He showed them through the house Cheyenne had previously seen from the entryway and only in the dark. But the impressions she’d gotten seemed accurate. There weren’t a lot of decorations, very few pictures and memorabilia. The Amoses had what most men would consider the basics—a big-scree
n TV, plenty of other electronics, a comfortable couch and several recliners. There was even a Christmas tree in the corner, one that looked and smelled freshly cut. It had the usual stand, but no ornaments or presents to go with it.

  Someone had lit a fire in the fireplace, which made the house several degrees warmer than her own. Cheyenne appreciated that, because her hands felt like blocks of ice. She also appreciated the smell of wood smoke. It was a scent she associated with Christmas.

  The dogs seemed to remember her. They followed her, tails wagging, to lick her hand. She bent to pet them, eager for the distraction, since there were three Amoses in the living room—Mack, Grady and Rod—who’d quit watching whatever they’d been watching to stare at her.

  Dylan wasn’t in the room. Cheyenne could tell immediately, even though the only light came from the TV and fireplace and what spilled over from the hallway and kitchen.

  Aaron was getting a beer out of the fridge. “Hey,” he called when he saw them. “You brought your sister.”

  Presley dragged her forward. “I told her you guys wouldn’t mind a little company.” She grinned meaningfully. “I also told her you were always a good time.”

  His lips, lips that looked so much like Dylan’s, hitched up on one side. He spoke to Presley but never took his eyes off her. “What kind of fun is she after?”

  Cheyenne cleared her throat and spoke up, so she wouldn’t seem as uncomfortable as she felt. “Just getting out of the house works for me. I don’t need a lot.”

  He nodded toward the TV. “Good. Because I’m not sure the movie we rented shows much promise.”

  “What is it?” Presley asked.

  “That new horror flick—The Haunting. We just put it in if you want to watch.”

  One glance over her shoulder told Cheyenne that the Amos boys hadn’t taken her unexpected appearance in stride the way Presley had said they would. They remained in their seats, but one of them had paused the movie, and they were all gaping at her as if she was an asteroid that had just come crashing into their house.

  “Sure,” she said. “I’ll give it a chance.”

  “Where’s Dylan?” Presley asked.

  “Right here.”

  Cheyenne turned to see Dylan walking around the corner from the direction of his bedroom. He had wet hair; he must’ve gotten out of the shower a few minutes ago. But he didn’t look like he was about to leave. He was dressed in a black V-neck T-shirt, jeans and house shoes.