Snowflake Wishes Page 3

  “No.” She shook her head, stopping five feet from the bed, her eyes wide with fear.

  “It looks worse than it is, sweetheart. Promise. I’ll be good as new in no time.”

  She crossed her arms carefully, like she was trying to hold her own ribs in place. “And then what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean … and then what? Once you’re healed? Are you going back out there? Risking your neck for the story? Breaking perfectly good bones in some—some ridiculous search for the ultimate adrenaline high? Again? How many bones does it take, Noah?”

  Alarms rang low in his gut as he watched color rise in her cheeks. Ever since he’d met her, Piper’d had a thing about his high-risk lifestyle, but they’d always worked around it. She went with him on the low-key stuff, nerved up the entire time, and when it came to the hard-core trips, he headed out with his buddies instead. It worked.

  Or at least he’d always thought it was working.

  The fact that he’d turned his love of the wilderness into a job offer was a dream come true—one he was scheduled to start in one short month. He’d be traveling the world for a company that custom-designed high-adventure trips, traversing the globe in a quest to find newer, better, scarier experiences. He’d be guinea-pigging the adventures, designing the trips, and then writing up the tours for outdoor magazines. He couldn’t think of a better way to combine his journalism degree and his love of the adrenaline high, and he’d popped open a bottle of champagne the night he’d told her.

  He’d asked her to come with him, knowing in his heart that it’d be a hard sell to get her to leave Echo Lake—even temporarily—but he’d figured he had time to convince her. They were so damn good together. Surely she could see that. Surely she’d come with him. She could do her art anywhere, he’d argued.

  Looking at her face right now, he knew he’d been wrong. Dead wrong.

  “Piper? Come here, honey.” He motioned with his good arm, pulling out his most disarming smile, though it was now rooted in abject fear.

  Her feet stayed frozen to the tiled floor.

  “I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice was a whisper, but it sent the alarm bells clanging inside his battered head.

  “Wha—what do you mean? I’m going to be fine. Come here and let me hug you. I’ll be fine in a few weeks. I always am.”

  “Always … until you’re not.” She took a shaky breath, and Noah’s eyes widened as he realized she was crying. Shit. “Because one of these days, you won’t be okay. One of these days, you’re going to go out there with Luke, or Bryan, or I don’t even know who else … and you’re going to think you’re smarter than the elements, and guess what? The damn elements are going to prove you wrong.”

  “Piper—”

  She put a hand up, silencing him. “I won’t wait around for you to die on me, Noah Drake. I’m not the girl who’s strong enough to play second fiddle to a mountain, or a whitewater river, or whatever else you come up with to challenge. This lifestyle kills people … and I—I just can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you saying … what I think you’re saying?” He fought the fog of morphine, struggling to comprehend.

  She looked down at her feet, then lifted her eyes to stare straight at him, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. Her voice was still shaky, but stronger when she spoke.

  “I’m done, Noah. I love you more than life itself, but if this is the path you’re choosing, then I’m out. I can’t do it anymore.”

  “It’s just an ankle … a collarbone.” His voice sounded pathetic even to his own ears as he tried to plead with her. “Please. Let’s just talk about this tomorrow when I’m home.”

  She shook her head. “No, Noah. I’m done talking about this. Every time you go back out there and chase the high, you’re telling me exactly what I need to know.”

  “Pipes—”

  “I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath, blowing it out carefully, slowly. “I just—can’t pin my future on a guy who’s determined to die.”

  * * *

  “What are you thinking about?” Piper’s voice interrupted his memory, and he shook his head to return to the present. The pathway they’d taken led to the Ferris wheel, and now that they were halfway there, he could see its lights twinkling through the firs. There wasn’t a soul around besides the two of them, and as she stopped under an old-fashioned light, he could see tiny snowflakes floating around them, landing on her dark wool coat. She looked up, waiting for an answer.

  “You. Me. A busted collarbone.” He figured being honest couldn’t hurt.

  “Oh.” Her face fell.

  “Do you ever—I don’t know—have regrets?”

  “Do you?”

  He searched her eyes, not even sure anymore what she’d want to hear. Did he have regrets? Sure he did. Every damn day. But were they the right regrets? He had no idea.

  “Yeah,” he finally answered. “Of course I do.”

  “Me, too.” She looked away. “But I’m not sure I would have done anything differently, if I had it to do over again.”

  “Even though you know now that I survived the past seven years intact?” He tried to lighten her up. “And I’m standing here today with still more bones than metal in my body?”

  “Not funny.”

  “I’m just saying—we could have had seven good years, right?” He tipped his head, smiling, trying to catch her eye.

  “Maybe,” she allowed, “but you’d still be heading right back out on another adventure in a week, risking the bones you have left, right?”

  Noah stuffed his hands farther into his pockets. Yeah. His contract had him heading to Belize the day after Christmas. After that, it was a zip-lining tour in Alaska, and then a climbing expedition in the Himalayas. For every tour he put together, the company wanted three more waiting in the wings. The thirst for adventure by the rich and/or famous was unquenchable, and he was the tour company’s go-to guy for creating unique, memorable, custom-designed trips that scared the pants off from most of his clients.

  They loved it.

  But three weeks ago, he’d woken up in a makeshift hospital somewhere in Costa Rica, his hands ripped all to hell and a big chunk of the previous week missing from his memory bank. Over the next twenty-four hours, snippets had returned—water that raged higher than it should have, a fraying rope, his helmet bouncing against unyielding rock as he lay caught in the river.

  As he’d struggled to stay afloat, one face had flooded his head, and though he couldn’t believe he was still crazy for her seven years after he’d last watched her leave his hospital room, he’d had this impossible urge to come back to Echo Lake to see her … to know she was all right. And in his more delusional, painkiller-induced moments, he’d wondered if maybe, possibly, she still thought of him half as much as he dreamed about her.

  And then Luke had called, and if Noah’d believed in destiny or fate or whatever the hell people believed in these days, he’d have had a hard time arguing the intersection of events.

  So he’d come. Fighting himself the entire way, he’d come. He’d known damn well he could walk into a town where Piper’s six kids might be playing kickball on her front lawn. He’d known she might have a husband who was a doctor, lawyer, firefighter, or the frigging mayor. He’d known how much it would hurt to see that she’d moved on, but he’d had to know. And Luke’s request had given him the perfect cover.

  But she wasn’t married, there were no kids … and as far as he could tell, there wasn’t a mayor or firefighter or doctor, either. He might, just possibly, have the second chance here that he’d been dreaming of for seven years.

  But answering her question honestly might just put him out of the running before he even started.

  “I’m supposed to head to Belize after Christmas.”

  “Well, there you go.” She sighed, and he felt her disappointment in his gut.

  “Want to come with me?”

  She laughed nervously, the
n rolled her eyes. “No more than I ever did, Noah. Even if you were asking seriously.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  She looked up at him, and he knew his expression was dead serious. What he didn’t know was where the damn question had come from. What was he thinking? Even if he could have brought her along, there was no way she’d ever say yes. They both knew that. For Christ’s sake, she hadn’t said yes back when they were dating. Why was he torturing both of them by asking right now, fifteen minutes after he’d walked back into her life?

  Did she really still have that much power over him, that he’d check logic and history at the igloo door and pretend they could start fresh, moments after they’d met again?

  “You’re not serious. You’re under the delusional power of the Snowflake Ball or something.” She shook her head. “Did you drink the punch? Did Mama B spike it?”

  He closed his eyes, smiling sadly. “No punch. No delusional power.” Then he sighed, lifting his hand to touch her face. “Has anybody ever told you you’re a hard woman to get over, Piper Bellini? Turns out, I kind of suck at it.”

  She looked up, eyes serious. “You’re not so easy yourself.”

  He tipped up her chin, and before he could talk himself out of it, he lowered his lips so they were a hair’s breadth from hers. He felt her tremble, felt her pulse hammering against his hand on her throat, saw a snowflake settle on her eyelash just before she closed her eyes.

  When their lips touched, it was like time had stood still for them. He went slowly—so slowly—desperate not to spook her, but the sensation of the brisk air and their heated lips made him crazy. He slid his arms around her, pulling her against his body, deepening the kiss when he heard a tiny moan escape from her throat. Her hands slid up his chest, tangled in his hair, pulled him closer, closer as he exercised every fiber of self-control he had in order not to scoop her up and wrap her legs around him.

  “God, Noah.” She finally pulled back, color racing to her cheeks, but he didn’t let go.

  “I know.” He closed his eyes, touching his forehead to hers. “I think maybe I missed you a little.”

  Her breaths started coming short and fast, and suddenly, she gave him a tiny push. “We can’t—you can’t—this is insanity.”

  He let go of her. “I’m sorry, Piper.”

  As he said the words, he watched her face change … like she was donning a protective mask.

  “You broke my heart once already, Noah.” She took a deep breath, raising her chin, which he could see was shaking. “You can’t just ride into town seven years later and do it again.”

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Piper swore silently as she stomped her feet, trying to talk some blood into returning to them. It was almost noon, she’d been sitting on a log for two hours, and her plan to avoid Noah at all costs today was feeling more childish with every limb that went numb.

  The strength of his arms around her, the feel of his lips on hers … the sensation of being in his embrace had haunted her all night long as she’d tossed and turned, and in the light of day, it was almost worse. So she’d come here, to the little slice of heaven that had always worked before when she’d needed peace.

  It wasn’t working.

  In the summertime, water cascaded into a crystal pool just down the bank from where she was sitting. In the dead of winter, the cascade had frozen into a quiet gurgle under thin ice, and instead of a cacophony of bird sounds, all she could hear were the chickadees and cardinals who braved the Vermont winter while all of their wimpier relatives went south.

  It was the kind of place that erased the rest of the world and left her cleansed and refreshed.

  Usually.

  Ever since she’d fled the park last night, leaving Noah standing in the snow with pain in his eyes, thoughts had been whirling through her brain until she’d had to come out here this morning to try to quiet them down. However, so far, sitting on a fallen log and listening to the water had done nothing but freeze her butt and make her long for a hot cup of coffee.

  “Thought I might find you here.”

  Piper practically jumped out of her own skin as she heard Noah’s voice behind her. The pine-needle carpet under the fresh snow had obviously masked his footsteps.

  He held out a to-go cup. “Coffee?”

  Seriously?

  He sat down beside her, and she took the cup. “Um, thank you.”

  To her surprise, he stayed silent, just sitting an arm’s length away, looking out over the water.

  “How did you find me?” she finally asked. She knew she’d brought him years ago, but it’d been seven years since he’d been back to Echo Lake. “I can’t believe you remembered this spot.”

  “Will I get less points if I admit I’ve been driving around for an hour trying to find it?”

  She laughed quietly. “No.” She took a grateful sip of the coffee, feeling the still-warm liquid slide deliciously down her throat. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  “So believe it or not, I have to do some Christmas shopping while I’m up here. Wondered if maybe you’d join me? Help me out?”

  “You came all the way out here to find me so you could ask me to go—shopping?”

  Piper looked sidelong at him, remembering how she’d always helped him pick out presents for his mom and sisters. As the only male in an absolute hive of women, he’d always been the designated Santa, but he’d hated shopping, especially at Christmastime.

  She’d made a lot of noise about bailing him out, but in reality, she’d loved spending a weekend finding out-of-the-way places and quirky gifts while he grumbled about commercialism and crowds and God-awful modern versions of Christmas carols.

  He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her, and she knew it was a peace offering—an apology for last night … of sorts. “I got elected Santa again this year, so I’ve got a whole list of nieces to buy for. I’m sure you remember, if I’m left to my own devices, Christmas Day could be a disaster.”

  Piper rolled her eyes, then looked down at the list. Somehow he’d gained three nieces since she’d last seen him, and she was surprised to feel how hard her gut clenched knowing she didn’t—know that.

  “Wow. You are seriously outnumbered here.”

  “Which is why I need help.” He put his hands together in a begging pose. “Please?”

  Piper looked back at the water, torn. On one hand, there was nothing she’d rather do than spend the day driving around with Noah, poking through quaint little craft shops and the woolen mill, maybe stopping for lunch at a roadside café. It’d be like old times.

  On the other hand, it would be like old times. And that was dangerous. It was exactly why she was sitting beside a waterfall, freezing her butt off, in hopes of not spending one more minute anywhere near Noah Drake.

  But he had found her, and it made her feel all tingly and love-stupid to think that he’d made the effort to locate—or even remember—this special spot of hers.

  She sighed. Maybe it was self-torture at its purest, but after all this time, a huge part of her did want to spend the day with him. Yes, she’d probably regret it. Yes, she’d probably spend the next six months reliving every moment of it. But an even bigger part of her feared that if she didn’t do it, she’d regret it for far longer than that six months.

  It was an innocent shopping trip—a way for two people who’d been best friends once to reconnect. What was the worst that could happen?

  “Okay,” she finally said. “But one condition.”

  “I know.” He smiled, standing up and reaching out a hand to lift her up. “Lunch has to be a roadside diner, and chocolate milkshakes have to be on the menu.”

  She took a deep breath. He remembered, dammit. “One more thing.”

  “Name it.”

  “Let’s please not talk about us—past, present … future. Let’s just—enjoy the day.”

  * * *

  “How about this one for Sarah?” Hours later, Noah held up a p
ottery bowl that might look great on his sister Paige’s table, but definitely not in Sarah’s loft in New York City.

  “Nope. Sarah gets the hand-blown glass. She’s not a pottery girl—or a bowl girl, really.”

  Noah set the bowl back down, confusion on his face. “Exactly how does one qualify as a—bowl girl?”

  “I don’t know, really. It’s just a—I don’t know.” She shook her head, embarrassed that she’d let the stupid phrase out of her mouth. “It’s somebody with a homey sort of home—somebody who’d have it on the counter, or maybe up on a shelf above the fireplace with kids’ pictures around it.”

  She picked up a similar dish, balancing it carefully in her hands. “What would you put in this?”

  “Probably my keys.”

  “Exactly. So would Sarah. Pottery abuse.”

  He laughed. “Okay, fruit?”

  “Exactly. And last I knew Sarah, she didn’t actually keep any nonperishable food at her apartment, let alone fruit.”

  “Good point. I think she still wines and dines eight days a week.”

  “Right. So a bowl would either sit in a cupboard, or it would drive her crazy gathering dust on some shelf. And this pottery’s too nice to be tucked away or covered with dust.”

  “So why glass, then?”

  “Because glass she’ll use. You give her a nice, classic vase, put some fresh-cut flowers in it on Christmas Eve, and voila. It’s modern, it’s chic, and it’s too skinny to collect dust. She’ll love it, I promise.”

  As she said the words, Piper felt a ping in her stomach. How did she know what Sarah might like anymore? She hadn’t seen the girl since she was barely out of her teens. Same went for his other two sisters, and now there were nieces she’d never laid eyes on. She had some nerve thinking she had any clue what they’d like for Christmas.

  After she’d dated Noah for two years, she’d started actually picturing what it might be like to have his nieces call her Auntie Piper. She felt a pain in her chest when she realized none of them would probably even recognize her anymore.