Page 81 of Afterglow

“Snowflake,” I say as I press my forehead to hers. “She was Sarah’s.”

“Oh.” The single syllable is quiet.

“We all ride her now. Don’t we, girl?” I reach in to scratch the spot behind her ear that she loves. “She’s the most spoiled horse in here.”

I glance at Leanne. She hasn’t reached out to touch Snowflake the way she did with the others. Instead, she looks a bit lost.

Shit, maybe this is too much for her. I didn’t even think about it when we came in here. How it might bring up Sarah. If Leanne’s retreating with only her horse, how am I ever supposed to tell her about Sam… about how I lost them?

The guilt of keeping this secret is an ever-present companion at this point. I’ve just gotten good at pretending it’s not there, which only makes me feel worse. I don’t want to hide my past from her. I don’t want to pretend Sarah and Sam didn’t exist. But I don’t want to hurt Leanne either. She’s dealing with so much, and the last thing I want to do is add one more thing to her already full plate.

I see her shutting down as I look into her eyes, or maybe she saw more in mine than I meant to show.

“I’m cold,” she says, her words as flat as the light in her eyes. Her shiver proves it’s true, but I think there’s more to her need to leave.

“Let’s head back up to the house and warm up then,” I offer, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, but she doesn’t melt into me the way she did before.

She doesn’t speak when we head back out into the snow. The flakes are large and wet now, like great big cotton balls falling from the sky, creating a thick layer of white across the entire landscape.

It was a quiet evening, one that has me staring at the ceiling in my room wondering if it’s all about to go wrong. Maybe the interaction with Craig was an omen I ignored. Or maybe it’s the secret between us that I haven’t been able to bring myself to share.

After our walk, we sank into the couch and looked over baby registries and nursery ideas, but there was a different kind of tension in the air as we approached the evening.

I wanted to beg her to come to my bed, to let me hold her. I would’ve been content with only that. I wanted her here more than anything, but when she moved toward her own room, my disappointment swelled, even if I tried to keep it from manifesting on my face.

So here I lie, staring at the damn ceiling and wondering how we bridge this gap. The gap I thought was closing with the intimacy and connection growing stronger between us.

But after today, I feel like we’re back to where we were before all of it.

“Bryce?” Leanne’s voice startles me.

She’s backlit from the soft light still on in the living room down the hall—a silhouette I all but summoned.

“Hey,” I say, leaning up on one arm.

“Can I… Can I come in?” she asks tentatively, playing with the hem of her T-shirt.

“Yeah, of course. Everything okay?”

She moves closer and without the light she’s harder to see clearly until she’s only a foot away. The top she’s wearing comes into focus, giving me a jolt of recognition and desire. It’s fucking mine. She’s in my shirt.

I’ve been looking for that.

She’s fiddling with the fabric as she nods her head. “Yeah, I just… Can I sleep in here with you?”

Relief tumbles through me, leaving me winded. The smile growing across my lips and making my beard twitch up is enough to have her moving a little closer. “Get in here, blondie,” I say, throwing the covers back from the side of the bed closest to her. It can be her side; she can have it forever if she wants.

She slides in, a sheepish smile on her lips. “I…”

“You don’t need a reason, Leanne. I wanted nothing more than to put your bag over on that chair,” I say, looking to the one in the corner, “and settle you in right here, in this bed…” I move closer to her, where she sits with her knees tucked up, blanket wrapped around them, arms braced on top. “I’ve been lying here thinking about how badly I wished I’d done exactly that. I didn’t want you down the hall with all these walls between us.”

Physical and metaphorical…

“Sounds a lot like what I’ve been doing for the past hour,” she admits, leaning closer until her lips brush mine. “I don’t want space between us either.”

If she wants to close the physical space, I’ll happily oblige her… and I’ll hope the emotional space will disappear along with it.

She inhales sharply, eyes tracking where my hand moves beneath the comforter to find the hem of the shirt. “I want nothing between us… not even my own shirt.” My gaze bores into hers as my fingers slip beneath it. “Did you steal this?” I husk, unable to stop my grin.