Snowdrop in a Storm Read online

  He breathed in, breathed out.

  “—her eyes were still open—”

  And leaned into Leon. Nick hadn’t seen him move, but he was there, sitting next to him…at least for a little while, until Nick would say the rest, and disgust would take over.

  “So that’s why Abby looks like you. I thought you and Jeff were brothers.” Leon paused, probably turning it over. “Then why are you the uncle and he the father?”

  “Because I’m an asshole,” he threw out, bitter.

  “Nick.” The admonishment was gentle, but it hit the mark.

  “Sorry.” He cleared his throat, gulped down a couple of mouthfuls. “I walked into traffic that night. Needed air, went outside, and then stepped in front of the cars. When I reached the other side of the street, I thought how lucky it was that I wasn’t holding the baby. And then I thought that maybe the baby deserved it. It had killed my wife, after all, hadn’t it?”

  Leon jerked next to him, hard, but Nick kept staring at one glinting spot on the metal leg of the chair.

  “And when that particular thought occurred, I knew I couldn’t go back inside the hospital. So I ran. I got in the car and drove straight out of town, to a lawyer my father used to know. He helped, arranged the adoption, made sure I didn’t have to face Jeff or the baby.”

  The air that rushed out of him turned into a shuddering sigh.

  “I committed myself into a psychiatric clinic as far away as I could possibly find. Got out after six months. Didn’t last two weeks before I was back in.”

  Leon shifted.

  “It was ugly, everything was so ugly.”

  “How are you now?”

  “Surprisingly stable. Except for impromptu runs through the woods, it seems.”

  Leon snorted at that, and Nick rubbed at his mouth. He didn’t really need to tell these bits, but he might as well. In all the way.

  “I did get better, eventually. Only, it took a lot longer than I expected. Years. I don’t need constant therapy or medication anymore. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all rosy, I’m—I’m not the same. Won’t ever feel completely healed, but I’m moving forward instead of back.”

  Another deep inhale.

  “I still go to these— There are these group sessions at the community center for grief counseling, and I go once a week. They’re mostly for people experiencing recent losses, but they like to see it’s possible to survive, even if it takes a long time, and—and I go to check myself. If I can talk about it, I’m good.”

  “Can I hold you?”

  That made Nick look over. Leon seemed so gentle. Nick nodded, and immediately, he was wrapped in Leon’s strong, heavy arms, huddled tight against him.

  The tea was cold. Nick finished it anyway.

  “Thank you for telling me all that,” Leon finally said, “but it doesn’t quite explain why you freaked out on me.”

  Nick curled up tighter, if even possible. “You aren’t her, but for a moment, you were. There it was, another twin for me to murder.”

  “What the fresh hell, man?”

  “I know, right?”

  It was almost funny. Almost. Leon, however, didn’t laugh. Nor did he let go.

  “I’m not a good person, Leon.”

  “Bullshit,” he countered, tightening his hold.

  “I hurt everyone dear to me.”

  “You went through trauma.” He shook his head. “We all make mistakes and, of course, that doesn’t mean they should be excusable. But sometimes all the choices we have are between crappy and worse. I don’t think that should, all by itself, decide the level of goodness in one person.”

  Leon was silent for a while, and then, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Sara.” His fingers were on Nick’s chin, pressing upward. “If I were you, I probably would’ve done the same.” And Nick let himself move, looked up, and got a smile for it.

  The fire needed tending and their legs some stretching. Nick gulped down an entire bottle of water. Food, though, wasn’t an option for him, his stomach squirming between hope because Leon was still there, and dread because Leon was trapped there.

  “Does Jeff know all of this?” Leon asked while chewing crackers.

  “No. And I’d rather he didn’t. Some things are just…” He waved, unsure how to explain.

  Leon nodded, understanding anyway. “Why’d you tell me, then? You could’ve kept the details for yourself.”

  Nick felt bold, mouth in a half-smirk as he said, “I was out of dicks to throw on the bed.”

  Leon laughed, deep and velvety. The sound persisted, bringing relief as he closed his eyes.

  THE MORNING WAS crisp, air sharp when they stepped outside the refuge. Clouds were dark at the distant horizon, but directly overhead the sky was blue. The forest remained undisturbed, in opposition to how Nick felt things had changed during the night. Leon’s bones cracked as he stretched. He appeared tired, but they’d both slept, albeit uncomfortably slumped against each other.

  “Didn’t snow much,” he commented.

  “Wind got very strong,” Leon said.

  That was it, nothing else about last night. Nick sucked in a sharp breath. Maybe in the light of day it wasn’t so easy to accept how screwed up he was.

  Making their way down the hiking path was harder than Nick remembered the reverse being. It didn’t take long, though, to reach an opening through the trees. From there, they could see the resort, smaller and farther away than Nick thought it would be.

  “We’re really high up.”

  “Yeah,” Leon huffed, “who knew your scrawny ass could run that fast?”

  Nick shrugged, and then, against all odds, Leon’s hand gripped his.

  “Come on, everyone’s waiting,” he said.

  Nick wanted to groan.

  “I HOPE HE’S all right,” Jeff said as he ended the call, “so I can kill him when he gets back.”

  He lay down on the bed, head on Daniel’s thigh, and blew out a breath.

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Daniel said. “Or at least reasonable for him.”

  “I don’t understand him anymore. Sometimes he does and says things that are…not like him. We used to know everything about each other. It feels like he’s a whole new person.”

  Daniel hummed, considering. “Maybe he is.”

  “What?”

  “Maybe he’s a new person. What you two went through was traumatic enough.”

  Jeff sat up and turned to face him. “But I’m the same.”

  “Are you?”

  That seemed to give him pause, and Daniel took his hands, smoothed this thumbs over his knuckles.

  “I don’t know how you were back then, but even if you weren’t that much different, time changes us.”

  “I guess,” Jeff muttered. “I just wish I knew what’s in his head, at least a little bit.”

  “Well, I think I can help with that.” Daniel let go and leaned over the edge of the bed to rummage through his backpack. He was going to give the card back to Nick, but maybe him leaving it behind meant he wanted someone else to read it. “Here.” He flipped it over, handing it to Jeff.

  “Dear Lauren,” Jeff read. “Thank you for the soul you brought into the world. Thank you for loving me. Babe, I think I’m ready to L-V-E again. It’s scary, but I’m not alone. Until we meet again, N.”

  Jeff raised an eyebrow.

  “To L-V-E again?”

  “Live, love.” Daniel shrugged. “I guess that’s for him to say.”

  “Guess so,” Jeff said, still clutching the card.

  THEY MADE IT back in time for lunch. Leon was swiftly swept away by his duties to the children, and Nick used the shower as an excuse to get away from Jeff’s hard stare.

  When he got out, there was a plate of food on the dresser and a note in Daniel’s handwriting that said they’d all gone to the sleigh slope. They only had this day and the next before making their way home.

  Across the room, the bed with its rumpled s
heets stared back at him. With sudden jitters in his fingers, he grabbed the plate and skittered to Jeff’s, refusing to think how awkward it would get come evening.

  He must have dozed off in the armchair because, next he knew, it was dark, and his shin throbbed with pain. Jeff kicked him again.

  “Ow, you ass. What the hell—”

  Another kick, but that time, Nick moved his legs out of the way.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Daniel said. He turned to Nick. “Dinner’s over. Are you hungry?”

  He wasn’t, not really, and shook his head. Thirsty, though, and took the bottle of water Jeff handed him.

  They didn’t throw him out, not even after the kids were tucked in to sleep, and the pension stilled with silence. Daniel was in bed, too, reading under the small lamp on the nightstand. Nick’s body was half numb, but he didn’t want to move. When Jeff put a blanket on him, he sighed.

  Immediately after, Jeff sat at the foot of the bed, a hand on one knee, the other fisted against his hip. The look on his face was sour, and Nick knew what was coming.

  “You have to explain this to me,” Jeff finally said. “Otherwise, I’ll be breaking my mind trying to figure it out.”

  Nick pulled the blanket closer.

  “Leon kissed me.”

  Jeff blinked a few times, fast. “And you didn’t want to?”

  “No, no I did. I just—”

  “What?”

  “I thought, suddenly, what if I kill him, too.”

  He couldn’t really hear his own words as he spoke them, but Jeff must’ve understood them all right, given the way he froze, hand in midair.

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “If I hadn’t insist—”

  “No,” Jeff interrupted. “It doesn’t work like that. All the what-ifs in the world won’t make it better. I know. I went through all of them myself.”

  Nick shifted to look at him. Really look. “Me, too. But I never could get rid of all the blame. Some small part of me thinks it’s the only viable explanation for what happened. And in a way, it’s easier to swallow than a random series of meaningless events leading there.”

  Jeff flopped on his back; at that, Daniel leaned forward, to touch him. Nothing more was said for a while, and Nick watched Daniel’s hand running through Jeff’s hair, entranced.

  “There are never any assurances,” Daniel said, “when it comes to the future. You can’t know what will happen, but if you don’t try…”

  His entire demeanor screamed affection as he smiled at Jeff upside-down, and Nick’s chest ached. He closed his eyes.

  “Do you like Leon?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you wanna kiss him again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then maybe you should do just that.”

  FOR THE SECOND morning in a row, Nick woke up with a crick in his neck and soreness in his limbs. After that, he somehow managed to avoid being alone with Leon all day, ignoring the half-disappointed looks both Sara and Jeff threw at them.

  At nightfall, however, he went back to their shared room. He’d been expecting to see an extra pillow, there next to the duvet. There wasn’t one, and with that absence, hope flared.

  Leon got ready for bed, still not saying anything, but Nick felt his eyes follow him as he did the same. And soon there was nothing left to do but stare at each other from across the bed.

  “We didn’t start out awkward,” Leon said, “so it’s a little unfair that our torrid affair should end on that note, don’t you think?”

  That pulled a laugh out of Nick, and he let it rumble along with the swift pang in his chest. Of course. It was supposed to be a vacation fling. Leon would return to his city, his school, his job and the life there.

  Suddenly, that sharp coldness holding him back was fading away. Removing the possibility of permanence felt like eliminating a threat.

  “So do something about it.”

  Leon grinned—finally, finally—and the softness in Nick’s chest renewed when Leon extended a hand.

  “Come here,” he said.

  Nick went.

  They kissed for what felt like hours, first standing, and then shivering from the chill of the night air. Nick squirmed closer under the covers, plastering himself over all that warmth. His lips were numb, but Leon’s mouth wouldn’t stop, and he didn’t want to, either.

  Until hot palms found their way under his T-shirt, and he had to pull away. He rolled onto his back, unsure how to—

  Leon leaned over him, braced on one hand. The fingertips of the other traced the line of Nick’s jaw as he whispered, “Just kissing.”

  Not a question, but an offering.

  Nick pulled him down.

  IT WAS SUNNY as they said their goodbyes in the parking lot of the pension. There were tears and hugs and a whole lot of kids promising to text each other. Nick wasn’t really listening, too entranced with watching him a little bit longer.

  Sunshine caught in Leon’s eyelashes, glinted in the corner of Nick’s eye as Leon kissed his cheek.

  “I’ll call you when we land,” Leon said, as if it wasn’t over right then and there. “Bye, Nick.”

  In that instant, with that terminating conclusion, Nick felt it—the desire to see each other later, continue this, find out where it would go. It burned fast in his entire body, knowing the chances of that happening were slim to none.

  The twofold ache left him shaking all the way back home.

  “AND THEN,” ABBY said, “we all agreed on the pine cone and declared it our traveling treasure.” She skipped over a puddle as they walked through the park. “We’ll send it to each other every three months.”

  The town was disparagingly gray. A warm front had melted all the snow, and no more had fallen by the time they’d returned. Maybe in a couple of days it would snow again, after New Year’s.

  “Who has it now?”

  “Siobhán. She lives near Dublin, and she has to send it to me.”

  “We should build it a little home, then, so it has a place to live while in your room.”

  Abby grinned toothily, and Nick grinned with her.

  He bought them warm chestnuts before steering them onto a bench. For the first time, she’d be sleeping at his place to give Daniel and Jeff the day, and night, together. December thirtieth was their anniversary, after all.

  “Did you know,” she said, “that Daddy bought Daniel a ring, too? He never said.”

  “That’s him, all right.”

  She nodded knowingly. “He gave it to him last night. It has two sides, and they come apart, and in the middle it’s written something that Daniel said I won’t understand until I’m, like, thirty or something.”

  Abby huffed a sigh, squinting into the distance.

  “I still don’t get what’s so nice about having a date at home. It gets boring after a while.”

  Nick bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to laugh. “Yeah?”

  “They should go dancing, or ice-skating, or, or! To the carousel!”

  “You wanna go ride on the carousel?”

  “Can we?”

  “Sure. Before we go, though, I have something for you. A present.”

  Interest piqued, she gazed up at him.

  “I thought we’d make a Christmas tradition of our own,” he told her, “to always remember the plushie debacle.”

  Her face fell in slow motion, unabated distress crawling over it. He didn’t let it reach her eyes, though, and pulled the little paper bag out of his pocket.

  Abby whined a disparaging “Nooo,” but she still opened it.

  The keychain dangled on her fingers twice before she registered what it was. “Cousin Itt! It’s not a plushie,” she corrected, “it’s Cousin Itt.”

  “Technically, if it’s made of plush, it’s a plushie.”

  She cradled the tiny top hat in her palm and the rest of it against her chest. “Don’t you listen to him, Cousin Itt, he’s a big meanie.”

  Nick laughed. “Whatev
er you say, kid.”

  “I say thank you, Uncle Nick.”

  And that there—that finally felt like it fit.

  THE LAST DAY of the year was overcast. It was cold, but it lacked the bite of winter. The streets and buildings and people seemed otherworldly, somehow, layered with a sheen of uncharacteristic warmth, but Nick kept shivering.

  It had been three days since Leon and Sara would’ve made it home, and Leon hadn’t called. Nick knew they’d gotten there just fine; Amber had let them know, and the silence stung. He shook it away, or at least tried to as he finished his grocery shopping.

  That night, he’d opted not to encroach on Jeff and Daniel and Abby’s time, not that they’d offered, specifically, that he join them. They were supposed to meet tomorrow for the dumplings anyway.

  He sent a quick text to Jeff, wishing them all happy celebrations, and turned his phone off.

  He made it until after sunset before the walls of the apartment started crowding in on him, and not in any way that felt comforting. So he grabbed his coat and went out, back to the park and the swings, but he took a seat on a nearby bench instead.

  He leaned his head back, let his eyes fill, and then overspill.

  “THEY LANDED!” ABBY shrieked, watching Daniel’s phone like a hawk. “Amber texted. Nick’s gonna be so happy. He was sad yesterday.”

  “Was he?” Jeff asked.

  Daniel kept a hand on Jeff's back as he decorated gingerbread cookies. They didn’t have a tree this year, but they could have the smell of Christmas in their home.

  “Uh-huh. But he’s happier when he’s talking to Leon. Do you think they’ll smooch?”

  “Oh, kiddo,” Daniel said, “they already did.”

  Abby clapped her hands, delighted.

  “Told you,” Jeff said, smugness on his face, looking very kissable himself.

  Daniel stole one of those, then two gingerbread stars, dancing away when Jeff swatted at his hand. He shared the loot with Abby as he joined her at the breakfast counter. Soft music drifted in from the living room, the fire crackled, and he basked in the ambiance of his home.