That Snowy Night (Into The Fire Book 11)

by J. H. Croix

  Turning away, I walked through the airport, a sense of melancholy settling over me. When I stepped outside, it was still dark, and the air was bitingly cold. January in Anchorage was never warm. I’d guess it was close to zero with the windchill this morning.

  It would be several hours before the sun came up. For now, the stars glittered above as I climbed into my truck and began the drive back to Willow Brook.

  I didn’t know how, but I was going to convince Delilah it was worth seeing where this thing between us went.

  “I’m all about love, Alex, but you can’t expect Delilah to think it’s worth trying a long-distance relationship without telling her how you feel,” Holly said.

  “I did tell her how I feel,” I protested.

  “How you feel about who?” Janet asked as she stopped beside our table and set down my bagel with cream cheese and Holly’s croissant.

  “Alex is in love, but he won’t say the L word,” Holly said tartly before taking a bite of her croissant and leaving me to face Janet’s curious gaze.

  We were having breakfast at Firehouse Café. Janet was the owner, and I’d known her my entire life. Her silver braid was spun into a circle on top of her head, and her round cheeks plumped with her smile when she looked at me.

  “You’re in love? I need the scoop. And how come I haven’t heard about this sooner?” Janet prompted.

  I didn’t even try to hide my sigh. “When we went to the ski lodge in Diamond Creek over the holidays, I ran into a girl I knew back in high school.”

  “Oh, she’s from Willow Brook?” Janet returned.

  I refused to look at my sister because I knew she was enjoying putting me on the spot like this. “No, Delilah’s not from Willow Brook. I met her one summer when I went to camp in Colorado.”

  “And you both ended up at Last Frontier Lodge together over Christmas? Oh, it feels like fate.” Janet put her hand on her chest over her heart as she looked at me, practically getting misty-eyed.

  I took a gulp of my coffee before replying, “She doesn’t feel that way. She went back to North Carolina and thinks it’s ridiculous that I want to try to have a long-distance relationship.”

  Holly had finished chewing and helpfully offered her feedback. “But Alex didn’t tell Delilah he’s in love with her,” she said pointedly. “I told him he can’t expect her to want to try this when he’s not putting his feelings on the line.”

  “Thanks for your input,” I muttered.

  Janet looked between us with an affectionate grin. “Maybe he wasn’t ready. All you can do is try,” she said just as someone called her name from the kitchen. With a pat on my shoulder, she hurried away.

  Holly’s assessing brown eyes held mine. “She’s right. All you can do is try.”

  “Why are you jumping so fast to the word love?” I asked, honestly curious. I didn’t want to contemplate how my neck felt a little itchy just thinking about the word.

  “Because I’ve never seen you like this with a woman. Ever. Maybe it is early, and I get it. But you can’t expect someone to want to put effort into a relationship when you two are that far apart if you don’t let her know you’re seriously serious.”

  I took a bite of my bagel, chewing as I contemplated her words. After I finished, I nodded. “I get your point. I’m not sure how to go about it, but I’m gonna call Delilah tonight.”

  Holly finished off her croissant and set her empty coffee mug on the plate. “Good. Meanwhile, I have to go to work.”

  Holly stood from the table, putting a jacket on over her outfit of scrubs. She was a nurse at the ER department in Willow Brook. With a quick smile and a wave, she hurried off. I finished my bagel alone, wishing Delilah was here with me.

  “Alex!” a voice called. It was hours later, and I was busy at work.

  I didn’t recognize the voice because I had my head buried in the engine compartment of a small plane. I tightened the bolt on the part I’d just replaced. Stepping back, I straightened and snagged the rag on the stool beside me to wipe my hands.

  Looking up, I saw Nate approaching. “There you are,” he said as he crossed from the door of the plane hangar over to where I was working.

  “Yes, here I am,” I teased as I tossed the rag to the floor and picked up my water bottle to take a swallow. “What’s up?”

  “Wondering if you have some extra time today to look at one of my planes. Problem with a cooling fan.”

  “Of course. I always have time for you.”

  Nate grinned. “I never like to assume.”

  “Dude, we’ve been best friends since we were kids, and now you’re married to my sister. Holly would kick my ass if I didn’t make time for you.”

  Nate shrugged. “Maybe so. I’ll still pay you.”

  I chuckled. “I know. I’m not that much of a sucker.” Glancing at my watch, I added, “I actually have time now. Today is a light day for me. Let me wash my hands, and we can walk on over to your hangar now.”

  “Sounds good.” Nate walked with me as I crossed over to an industrial sink in the corner. I quickly soaped my hands with the citrus cleaner that would break up the grime from working on engines all morning. As an airplane mechanic in Alaska, I was lucky enough to be able to run my own business and basically take the work I wanted. Alaska had a network of small airports—using the term “airport” loosely—due to how many areas of the state were off the road system.

  I had contracts with the main airline carriers in Anchorage and Fairbanks, but my bread and butter came from working on small planes scattered across Southcentral Alaska. Nate was a pilot, as was I, but I was purely recreational. He ran a business doing flight work for the hotshot firefighters based out of Willow Brook. He was one of the many pilots who fought fires from the air, dropping flame retardant and water in hot spots when fires got started during the long, dry summers in Alaska.

  Nate had several planes he kept stored at the Willow Brook airport. He led me over to the main hangar that housed two of his planes.

  “What do you think the problem is?” I asked as he opened the engine compartment.

  “Not sure. The fan just doesn’t sound right. I’m keeping it out of commission this week until you have a chance to look at it.”

  “Let me see.” A moment later, I could see the loose bolt holding the fan in place. A closer look revealed it was rusting. “You were right about the sound. I’m guessing that’s throwing off the rotation just a tad.” I commented. “I’ll replace the fan later. It’s just the bolt, but it’s smarter to replace the whole thing. I happen to have one in stock.”

  Nate’s stomach growled audibly as I straightened. “Are you hungry?” I teased.

  “Didn’t my stomach just answer your question?” He rolled his eyes.

  I chuckled. I supposed so. “Why don’t we go grab lunch? I’ll take care of this fan later this afternoon.”

  In short order, for the second time this week, I settled into a chair at a small round table in Firehouse Café. The restaurant choices in Willow Brook weren’t particularly extensive, and Firehouse Café was my favorite. It was housed in the town’s original firehouse and had been renovated into a cute little café with stained concrete floors, artwork on the walls, and Janet’s friendly presence.

  She approached our table with a wide smile for both of us. “Hey, boys, wanna hear the specials?”

  “Always,” Nate replied.

  Janet rattled off the specials. As soon as she was done, I said, “I’ll take the balsamic maple salmon burger with regular fries.”

  “I’ll take the same,” Nate added.

  “Any coffee?” Janet returned as she jotted down our orders on her small notepad.

  “Sure thing. Just the house coffee will do.”

  After Nate nodded in agreement, Janet hurried off. The café was busy this afternoon, but that was the case every day it was open.

  “Holly tells me you miss Delilah,” Nate began, jumping straight to the one thing I’d barely been able to stop thinkin
g about.

  “You know, the biggest downside to you two being together is now you tell each other everything. Used to be you barely talked to each other,” I muttered.

  Nate cast me a cheeky grin. “So what? That’s not my point. My point is what the hell are you gonna do about Delilah?”

  If I was going to talk to anyone about this, it was Nate. “When she left, I tried to talk her into—”

  Nate cut right in. “Yeah, some kind a long-distance thing. Dude, you’re in Alaska, and she’s in North Carolina. The way I see it, if you want this thing to be real in the long run, then somehow she comes here, or you go there.”

  I didn’t know how to label the emotion that jolted me. It was a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, and maybe tinged with a hint of fear. I wasn’t used to putting things on the line. Frankly, I never even considered it when it came to a relationship.

  Yet Delilah had haunted my memories ever since that summer. It’s just until our worlds collided again, I’d written it off as a fluke. Was I actually going to let her go?

  Nate’s gaze went somber as he stared across the table at me.

  “You’re not joking, are you?” I prompted.

  “No. You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t joke about something like this. I don’t want you to move to North Carolina, but it’s obvious Delilah means a lot to you. I think it’d be stupid to let her slip away.”

  “Since when did you become an expert on romance?” I tried to deflect.

  Nate cocked his head to the side, a knowing glint in his gaze. “I’m not claiming to be an expert, although I’m more of an expert than you. You’ve never been serious about anyone. I do know you well, and I can tell this has gotten to you. Do something about it.”

  “I want to,” I said, running a hand through my hair as I leaned back in my chair.

  At that moment, Janet arrived with our coffees, setting them down quickly, along with two glasses of water. “Your food will be ready in a few,” she said before she hurried away.

  Fortunately for me, I was only grilled by Nate this afternoon. Janet was far too busy to join in like she had when I was here at breakfast.

  “It’s just I can’t imagine moving to North Carolina. I love my life here,” I commented after a few sips of coffee.

  Nate took a swallow of his coffee, his thumb tracing the handle of the mug as he looked over at me when he set it down. “Nothing’s a given. But if you want Delilah to consider you as something other than a fling over the holidays, you’ve got to be willing to put something on the line. I’ll be honest, I think it’s worth trying, but there’s no way I could do a long-term situation where Holly was thousands of miles away, and I was here. I’d fucking move if that’s what it took to be with her. All you can do is be willing to try to consider the possibilities.”

  I stared over at my oldest friend and slowly nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Delilah

  February

  I tapped the button to turn off my car. The engine stopped rumbling, and quiet settled around me. The trees had a light dusting of snow; their branches stripped bare of leaves and stark against the gray sky. In front of me sat my parents’ house.

  They’d actually been living in this house for five years now, the longest length of time they’d lived anywhere. Shockingly, they owned it and the small piece of property on which it sat. I drew a kernel of comfort from that.

  That comfort came with a prick of grief. They had this house and piece of property because my grandmother had left it to my mother in her will when she passed away. I missed my gram deeply. She’d been the most stable force in my entire childhood. The second I thought about her, Alex came to mind.

  It almost annoyed me that I remembered him when I thought of her now. Gram was the reason I went to that camp in Colorado in high school. She’d sat with me and helped me finish the application. My guidance counselor had wisely sent the paperwork to her instead of my parents. Because my parents hadn’t been stable enough to stay in one place when I was growing up. Now that they didn’t have to pay rent, it didn’t matter.

  Thinking of Alex sent a shaft of longing through me, so piercing I felt a physical ache around my heart. I took several deep breaths and willed the pain away.

  My car door creaked a little as I pushed it open. The snow-covered dead leaves crunched under my boots as I approached the front porch. I knocked lightly before turning the knob and calling, “Mom? Dad? It’s me.”

  “Hey, darlin’,” my mom called from the kitchen.

  I closed the door behind me, letting my eyes scan the familiar living room. All the furnishings were the same as when my grandmother was alive. There was an overstuffed couch and two chairs flanking it. She’d loved that sort of country living feel. There were cute curtains with cherries on them. Everything was a little dusty.

  My mother’s face appeared in the archway between the living room and kitchen. “Coffee?”

  “I’d love some.” I tapped the snow off my boots and toed them off by the door as I unzipped my jacket.

  My mother was filling two mugs with coffee at the counter when I entered the kitchen. “Sit,” she said, gesturing toward the round table by the windows.

  The view here was lovely. This little piece of property sat on one side of Stolen Hearts Valley. The Blue Ridge Mountains stretched in the distance, and the valley spilled out beyond the edge of the yard. The famed blue haze was shades of gray and silver today. Looking at the mountains also brought Alex to mind.

  The stark, magnificent mountains in Alaska were just as beautiful as the Blue Ridge Mountains, yet they felt so different. Here, it felt as if you were cradled in the embrace of the rolling hills. In Alaska, the mountains stood tall and dark against the sky. As an almost otherworldly and massive presence, they were breathtaking in their ability to make you feel so utterly small and human.

  I kicked thoughts of Alex to the curb in my mind. He wasn’t making it easy to forget him, though. He texted me every single day and also called every single night. I loved it and hated how much I loved it.

  My mother sat down across from me, brushing her dark hair streaked with silver away from her eyes. We shared the same coloring. Her clear green eyes were as bright as ever. “How are things?” she asked as she passed over my mug of plain black coffee.

  “Fine. Busy.” I took a sip, appreciating the rich flavor. “Good coffee,” I added as I lowered my mug to the table.

  “You’ve been melancholy ever since you got back from Alaska,” she commented.

  “I have?” I hedged.

  My mother was too perceptive for my sanity. After a childhood of her being somewhat flighty and far too easy to cave to my father’s careless whims, my mother had settled down, and we were slowly trying to build something of a relationship.

  She cocked her head to the side, tapping her index finger on the table lightly. “Yes, you have. What happened?”

  “Really, Mom? Nothing. I had a good trip, and now it’s back to the grind. It was nice to have a break from work and school for two weeks. That’s all.” I was feeling defensive, and I knew it, but I didn’t feel like dwelling on what I couldn’t have. “Is Dad up?” I asked, knowing my mother wouldn’t appreciate the change of subject.

  My mother shook her head. “No. And I’m sure you already thought so.”

  I felt a pinch of guilt in my chest, a little burn right above my heart. Because I did know that. “Mom, why do you stay?” I whispered.

  She took a swallow of her coffee and let out an almost imperceptible sigh when she set her mug back on the table. “I know your father hasn’t made your life easy. I regret many of the things that happened when you were a little girl.” She held my gaze with a level look across the table. “He’s sick now. Although maybe he doesn’t deserve it, I find I can’t simply abandon him now.”

  My stomach felt hollow. “What do you mean, he’s sick?”

  “We found out before your trip, but I didn’t want to
tell you because I didn’t want you not to go. I haven’t seen you for more than a few minutes since you got back. He has cancer, colon cancer. It’s pretty far along. Lord knows, your father was never one to go to the doctor. I wish I’d been able to give you more stability, but I was young and not so strong. I’m sorry.”

  “Mom, you don’t need—” I began.

  She shook her head sharply, and I went silent.

  “I do need to apologize. You’re an amazing woman, and I am so proud of you. You’re taking care of yourself, you’re a hard worker, you’re putting yourself through nursing school on your own, but more than that, you’re a kind and generous person. Don’t think for a second I’m not incredibly proud of you. I also know you beat the odds. If it weren’t for my mother, your grandmother, things might not have turned out the way they did for you. Here we are now, and I do believe in doing the right thing. I pray every night about what to do. I find that I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t ease the last few months your father has.”

  This was probably the single most honest conversation I’d ever had with my mother about what our life had been when I was growing up. I’d always loved my mother. I also loved my father, despite his tendency toward chronic alcoholism and careless words. Fortunately, he was mostly a harmless drunk.

  The hollow feeling in my stomach intensified, and my pulse was running along at a shallow, unsteady beat. “Months?”

  My mother nodded. “Yes. They gave him four to six months. It’s far enough along that they don’t recommend chemo. He doesn’t want chemo anyway. These days, he sleeps in because he’s tired and he feels sick, not because he’s hungover.”

  My mother delivered that information, her eyes resigned and steely. I curled my hands around my coffee mug as if the warmth of it could anchor me somehow. I’d resented my father for years, and suddenly, my resentment went up in smoke.

  “You’re doing the right thing,” I said, and I meant it.

  I knew she was. My mother was such a loyal person, and she stood by her commitments. There were many times I wished she wasn’t, but her loyalty was an integral part of her personality.