by Holly Ryan
“I get it. We all have stuff to take care of. Damn snow. Really makes me wish I’d vacationed in California this year.”
“This year?” She pauses mid-zip of her coat. “You go on vacations for the entire year? What about your work?”
I shrug. “In the past I’ve taken it with me.”
She shakes her head and goes back to getting herself dressed. “I envy you.”
“Well, don’t. It’s nice when it gets you away from shit like this snow, but going away for such a long time is no way to live. A person needs connections, and you can’t keep those very easily if you don’t stay in one place.”
“So is that why you didn’t go to California?”
“I didn’t go for a lot of reasons. My business needed me here this year. My work could have traveled, but my business can’t. Not this year. My family needed me here.”
“You have a big family, then?”
“I don’t. My sister is what I mean when I say ‘family.’ She’s all the family I have left, and I’m hers.”
“I see.” She lifts her bag onto her shoulder and stands up straight. “So you don’t really wish you’d gone. It sounds like there were more important things keeping you here.”
“You could say that, yeah. I really do wish it could have worked out this year, but it was just wishful thinking.” I pause, not sure how to say what I’m about to. What I’m about to say will make Stella the first person I’ve told, so these words will be a new experience for me. “Olivia’s actually expecting.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. So you’ll be an uncle. How far along is she?”
“She’s not even showing yet. And,” I say as I finally stick the pile of dry plates back into the cupboard, “I guess the guy isn’t in the picture. I don’t know the whole story, but when she broke that little piece of news to me I knew I couldn’t leave her here all by herself.”
Stella’s expression is one of all seriousness. She still hasn’t dropped any hint that last night might still be on her mind, or that she feels there is some kind of unfinished business between us, which is more than I can say for myself. “That was kind of you,” she says.
“It wasn’t so much kind as…”
“Protective?”
“I was going to say brotherly.”
She grins, liking that. “Brotherly is even better.”
I know she’s ready to leave, but she’s given me the curtesy of hearing me out. “Here– at least let me call you a plow. If you insist on leaving, then I insist on clearing the driveway.” I shoot a look out at the snow. “There’s no way you’ll have a chance out there if I don’t.”
She grimaces. “That doesn’t sound encouraging. A plow would sure be great. Necessary, actually. Thanks.”
I dial a number into my phone. “Hello? Yes, this is Cohen Thatcher. Now, if possible. As soon as you can. Yeah, you know the address. Seventy Jefferson Street. Great. Thank you.” I click the phone off and hold it up. “Done.”
She smiles. “As easy at that.”
“It’s as easy as that.”
“They said they know the address?”
“Yeah, they do, and they should. I needed them a lot last year after I let my staff go. Almost every week we had a least a couple inches dumped on us. Remember that?”
She nods.
“I never did get around to buying a truck myself.”
At that, we both stop. It’s one of those moments where there’s nothing more to say.
“Walk me to the door?” she asks.
“Sure.”
The still-falling snow is visible on both sides of the double doored entryway. The flakes are larger now, having started to clump together since I last checked in the early morning hours when Stella was in my room.
“Holy shit,” Stella says, peering out one side of the paneled windows. Her breath fogs the glass. “Wish me luck.” She pulls away. “You are my lucky charm, after all.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Is that right?”
She pretends to evaluate me as she zips her coat all the way to her chin in preparation for the cold. “Mmm. Maybe.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay out there?”
A headlight shines through the nearby window, lighting up one side of her face. She squints and looks directly into it. “The plow’s here,” she says. “Looks like I’ll be making it out of your driveway, at least.” She sighs. “I guess coming here was just a bad decision all around.” She freezes, realizing what she just said.
I don’t take offense because I get it. Coming right before a snow storm? Most definitely a bad decision. Sneaking into my room in the middle of the night? Pretty bad move, too.
But everything that happened after that point? I guess that’s where we differ. Because to me, stopping before we started down that path of self-destruction was only a good thing for us.
Instead of explaining herself, she looks at her feet. “Bye, Cohen.” She walks over and kisses me lightly on the cheek, her lips warm and bold enough to finish the kiss completely, not half ass it with a peck. When she pulls away, there’s that sadness again. I can tell she doesn’t want to leave. I can’t blame her. I don’t want her too, either.
I touch her face, cupping the back of her head and her cheek in the same way that I did last night. Before she knows what’s hitting her, I bring my mouth to hers. Her lips are luscious and warm, and it feels like I’m tasting her for the very first time – because I almost am.
She doesn’t say a word when I finally remove my mouth from hers. She’s been still the whole time, only bringing a hand to my side to absently play with my shirt.
“You're amazing, Stella. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”
The corners of her mouth try to pretend that she’s fine, but they struggle. “Bye, Cohen,” she says softly.
I release her, my hand falling to my side where it suddenly feels empty and cold.
Outside, the air is still with no wind to blow the snow around. The plow has finished most of the important clearing and now heads back down for another round to complete the job. The fat snowflakes are still falling just as steadily, but the fiercest part of the storm seems to be over. That’s a plus, but it’s still not good enough for me.
Stella gets in her car and warms it up while I shovel it out and wipe and scrape away at the windows.
“Wait here,” I tell her through the window when I’m almost done. She gives me a confused look. “Keep it going. Just wait.”
I flag the driver down and motion for him to roll down his window.
“How are the roads out there?” I ask him, out of breath.
The man looks too old to be doing this, and at first I’m sure he didn’t hear me – he has to be close to eighty years old, and he’s frail, his collar bones visible through his unzipped coat and low cut shirt. He’s complete with a long, snow-white beard and the smell of peppermint mocha from Starbucks. A real Santa character, minus the gut, and if Santa drank Starbucks.
“They’re not too bad,” he answers. “We’ve been taking care of it pretty good, but you’ll have to watch out for black ice.”
“It’s bad?”
“Just watch out for it, that’s all. I almost ran into a patch on my way over. Got here fine, but if it catches someone off guard, it could ruin their night.”
It wasn’t his intention, but his words sting. I want to ask him if the black ice he saw was near the Kensington Road bridge, where the road is dangerous enough as it in on a normal night. The entryway to the bridge doesn’t have a guardrail, it curves suddenly, and the drop off leads straight down into a body of water.
I know all this because that’s where I forged in and tried to save her.
“Thanks,” I say weakly. My stomach is suddenly in knots.
The plow driver doesn’t pick up on it though. “I’ll leave you some salt to take care of whatever comes down after I’m done here. It’s supposed to stop soon.” Then he nods and rolls up his window, then continues on his w
ay to finish his work.
“What is it?” Stella calls through her window, through the snow.
I return to her car. “I was seeing how bad it is out there.”
“And?”
“He says it’s bad. Be careful, do you hear me? Do you take–” I’m trying to ask what route she’s going to take, to see if she’ll need to pass the Kensington Road bridge and warn her of it if she doesn’t already know, but she cuts me off.
“I’ll be okay.” She pats the steering wheel. “This baby is actually pretty good in the snow.” She laughs. “It’s me who isn’t.”
I’m about to stop this whole thing. I want to tell her to get out, come back inside and wait a few more hours with me to be sure the roads are clear. Despite my fears, though, I don’t have the heart to refuse her the privilege to give it a shot. Just as I conclude the thought, I look to the sky. The snow has stopped.
“See?” she says, sticking her head out the window to see what it is that I’m looking at. “You are my lucky charm after all.”
“Just be safe, okay?”
“I will. Bye, Cohen. And thank you for everything.”
As I watch her leave, I stick my hands into my pockets to warm them. Her taillights disappear down the hill of my driveway, and then she’s gone.
I should turn back home. I should also spread some salt right now, I think as I kick at a chunk of ice in front of me, now that the plow’s finally gone and some of this could ice over. But I’m not in the mood.
When a minute has passed and I’m sure she must be on the road by now, I finally head inside. My feet crunch against the icy gravel before reaching the front steps, where I stop. I thumb the pair of gloves in my pocket as I look at my own car. It’s still buried under the snow, but I know it’s ready to jump into action if need be. All it would take is a little brushing off. If I wanted to go after her to ask her to stay a little longer, to give me a second chance… to give us a second chance… my car would definitely be up for it.
Screw this analyzing shit.
If I want to go after her, I have to do it now, not when she has a mile on me.
I take a few determined steps toward my car when something makes me stop again. It’s something different this time. The sound of a car revving its engine and spinning its tires reaches my ears. Not only that; it sounds close. It sounds like it’s coming from the bottom of my driveway.
I hurry over. On my last few steps, I can see a ways down the drive. It’s her. Stella’s car is trying to making it back up to my house, but it’s failing. The tires can’t gain any traction, and she must have the pedal almost to the floor with the way that engine is roaring.
Before I have a chance to head down to help her, she puts the car in park and steps out. She takes a minute to collect herself, shrugging her shoulders to position her coat more comfortably around her neck, and stretching her arms a little, before she walks toward me.
“What are you doing?” I call, laughing into the still air because I don’t yet know what’s going on.
Finally, and without an answer, she’s in front of me.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She shakes her head, her beautiful hair flipping around her face. “I couldn’t leave.” She takes a breath. “I couldn’t leave you.”
Her emphases on the you hangs in the air.
It doesn’t take any time for me to realize what’s happening here. She’s come back to me. Again. She’s come back here because she feels it too, the magnetic pull.
This time, she looks down, no doubt looking for a piece of ice to kick in the same way I did, but her foot comes up lacking in the bare drive.
I know what I have to say. “I couldn’t let you.”
She raises her head. Her smile lifts her cheeks to her eyes. In those eyes I can see the twinkling reflection of the house lights over my shoulder. They’re hypnotizing, those lights and those eyes, and my mind gets lost in how beautiful she really is.
Because I can’t help it, I collide into her. Her lips, now close to feeling familiar, meet mine, but this time she’s not shy being about it. She kisses me back hard and soft all at once, as if she’s desperate for me, as if she wants to leave no doubt in my mind that she really, truly is. I kiss her deeply in return. That hair of hers tangles up in my fingers, and in that moment I’d be happy if it held me there forever.
“Cohen…” she says when she breaks away, her voice as sultry as her expression.
She doesn’t need to say another word.
Somehow, without wanting to part, we make our way into the house, and eventually back to the kitchen. My foot catches on the landing as we pass through the door, and before I can take hold of the doorframe, Stella grabs my waist to keep us from falling. We laugh. We come together again, kissing, feeling, and loving finally taking each other for good.
I back her against the wall. Since that near-trip, I don’t even know if the door managed to get closed behind us. The thought is only a brief flash of lighting in my mind, because her muscles relax beneath my hold. She’s giving in, letting me control all of her. I tip her chin to the side and lean in to kiss the crook of her neck, taking a deep breath when I’m there.
In a swift motion, she unzips her coat and lets it fall to our feet. Our breaths grow heavier together as I lift her arms above her head and then peel off her shirt. It comes off easily, and once it’s free, her chest rises and falls, her breasts straining against her silky black bra. She pulls my face to hers once more to kiss me, then gives me a knowing look. With both hands, she reaches around behind her back, and her bra falls away.
The sight makes me feel ten years younger, like this is some kind of first. I’d have lost my breath if it wasn’t such a cliché. It would be justified. Her, the way she is and the way she was made – her body, her warm, smooth skin, the way she’s pulled her hair to one side and now drapes it over one of her bare breasts. She's perfect.
Her body is still working in synch with mine when both she and I lift her onto the counter, the counter that’s still messy from our breakfast this morning. I brush away the utensils behind her with a single swipe of my arm. She wraps her legs around my waist and takes hold of the collar of my shirt, pulling me in.
I use both my hands to pull down her leggings. She uses both hands to strip me of my belt, and then unzips my jeans, both of which are tasks she’s in perfect position for. As she does that, I trace her skin, my fingers sliding along her collarbone until they reach her slender shoulder.
“Cohen.” She stops. “Are you sure you want this? I mean, with the way you acted last night…”
“Yes,” I answer quickly. I deserve a self-inflicted kick in the balls for the way I acted last night. “I want you, Stella. I’ve wanted you this entire time. How could I not? I wasn’t myself last night.” I could continue to explain, go on to bring up the whole nightmare thing and point out how those damn things can change your whole mood, throw your whole world upside down, but I leave it at that. She’s better off not knowing.
“But you’re yourself now?”
I nod against her. “I am.”
And there is no more time to talk; I reach around and under her and lift her a little with one arm. My hand fits perfectly on her bare ass. She reaches around too. She places her hand over mine and squeezes, letting me know she wants me to be a little rough with her.
Now free, I close the space between us. I bend to kiss her breast and nipple as I slide inside her, the sensation overcoming us both to the point that I need to support the back of her neck with my hand. She feels as frail as a feather in my grip, her neck softened by her hair, waif-like and controlled completely by my overpowering hand.
I feel her surrender to me, first in my hand as she tips her head back, her jaw open with pleasure, then internally, as she relaxes beneath me and allows me to enter her further.
My thrusts push her further onto the countertop, to the point that she tells me to stop so I can reposition her in front of me. While doing so, I look do
wn.
Her muscles start to shudder and her moans reach the edge. She’s getting closer to her ending. I lean over her and kiss her once, deeply, and she responds by gently biting at my lower lip. Then she clutches the sides of my back, her fingers digging into me as she lets everything go. I let go too, my explosion inside her creating waves of ecstasy for us both that only draw me further and further into her – both into her body, and into that soul of hers.
I open my eyes. The sun is still out, I can see through the corners of the blinds on my window, but the room itself is dark and I need to blink a few times to realize where I am. I lower my arm from its resting place behind my head. Slowly, I recognize the feel of my familiar burgundy silk sheets, and eventually my sight adjusts to the darkness. The outline of my dresser comes into view, followed by the familiar bathroom door. I’m in my room. I turn my head to the left. Stella’s here too.
She’s asleep on the pillow next to mine, facing me. Her hair is draped over her face. I guess we both barely made it to my bed before passing out. I reach over and move a few locks out of her face, tucking them behind her ear.
She opens her brown eyes, her lashes fluttering as she too takes a second to get her bearings. Her makeup has transferred to underneath her eyes, and she tussles some of her hair with her hand as she stretches. She looks just as perfect as she always has. “Hey,” she whispers, that same cheek-lifting smile that lights me up.
“Hey.”
“Are you feeling as great as I am?”
I roll onto my back, looking up at the ceiling, and stick both hands behind my head. “Mmm. Sex. Nap.” I look over at her. “Yes.”
She smiles and gives me a nudge.
I become serious. “Waking up with you in my bed. I’d say yes.”
A pink flush colors her cheeks.
I gently wrap my fingers up in her hair once again, the same way I did before, when she returned to me, before everything that just happened between us. I lean in and kiss her forehead. Stella in my bed, my fingers in her hair, my lips on her skin – I just feel at home this way.