Snowflake Wishes (10 page)

“Yeah. I'm good.”

“You wouldn't lie to me?”

Noah sighed. “Listen, I've never wanted to get on a plane as badly as I do right now. I'd lie right to your face if I knew it would shut you up so I could go. But no. I'm not lying.”

Patrick shook his head, laughing. “Tough trip north?”

“The worst.”

The best.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.” Patrick smiled, sliding one last folder toward him. “Here's your life insurance update. Just need you to sign and initial the first three pages, then make sure your beneficiary stuff is up to date. Then we'll crack a beer, toast to your next trip, and you can head out the day after Christmas.”

“Sounds good.” Noah pulled the folder toward him and opened it, scanning the pages before he initialed them. When he got to the beneficiary page, though, he stopped cold. He'd always listed his three sisters in the spot where most people would put a wife and children. It had never really bothered him before.

It bothered him now.

It bothered the
hell
out of him.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, thinking back to three weeks ago when he'd lost his grip on the raft and tumbled into the icy water. He'd done everything right—had all the right safety equipment, all the right training, all the right … everything. But through some intersection of weather and water and lost concentration, he'd messed up.

He hadn't gotten really hurt, but he could have. And as he'd battled the water, waiting for a rescue, one voice had haunted him. One face had kept him from believing this was it for him.

Piper's.

He could have died that day, and it was only through sheer luck that he hadn't. And if he'd been lucky enough to have her waiting at home for him, she'd have gotten the call … or the visit … and it would have killed her, too.

He'd gone back to Echo Lake last weekend under the guise of talking to Luke about an investment, but in his heart, he knew he'd really gone back to see Piper. After two days with her, he'd known he was just as in love with her as he'd always been, but once again, he'd left without a fight.

He sat back, letting his head fall against the chair for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly, clarity breaking through.

He needed a fight, dammit.

He needed Piper.

He snapped upright. “This is going to sound crazy, but I think—I can't go to Belize.” He laid the pen down, pushed the folder away from him.

“Wha—”
Patrick's eyebrows went sky high.

“I can't. I won't.” He nodded, his next move suddenly crystal clear. “I need to go.”

“Where?”

Noah stood up and pulled on his coat, a smile taking over his face. “Back to Echo Lake.”

Chapter 9

“Lookin' good, Piper.” Ethan scanned the wall of the indoor carousel, where Piper had propped the paintings she'd done in her manic haze over the past week. Two years ago he'd asked her to do a mural on the carousel wall, and ever since, that round, blank wall had taunted her just like her blank canvases had. But as she'd painted Noah's stories in her apartment, she'd started to see them bigger, bolder, more beautiful … and she'd known they'd be perfect for the carousel.

“It's going to take a while.” She stood up, wiping her hands on the painting smock she'd started wearing after she'd ruined two pairs of jeans in the past week.

“Take all the time you need. It's going to be stunning.”

“I'd have to agree with you.” Another voice came from the doorway to her left, and Piper just about dropped her brushes.

Noah.

Ethan looked from one to the other of them, then smiled. “Well, I've got some stuff to check on. Turn the lights off when you're done, okay?”

“Sure. Yes. Right.” Piper nodded blankly, her eyes locked on Noah's. Why was he here, one week after they'd finally said good-bye?

After Ethan closed the door behind him, Noah stepped forward, around a couple of brightly painted carousel ponies. He looked at the wall she was working on, then at the paintings propped around the circle. For a long moment, she watched his eyes scan one, then the next, then the next, and his head tipped as his eyebrows came together.

“Piper? Are these—”

“Your stories?” She nodded slowly, suddenly unsure of how he'd feel about her turning them into paintings.

“How did you—I can't believe—how did you
remember
them?”

“I wrote them down. Every night, you'd fall asleep, and I'd get up and write them down. I never wanted to forget them.”

“Wait.” He shook his head. “I told you those stories so
you'd
go to sleep.”

“I know.” She smiled. “But you always fell asleep first.”

“I'm … sorry?” He picked one up. “Is this the puffaloop tree?”

“Yes, or at least how I imagine them. I'm sure they're not what you … were really thinking.” As he examined the artwork, she felt suddenly shy and unsure. What if he hated the paintings, after she'd spent the entire week falling back in love with them?

“They're perfect. I love them.” He set down the painting and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

“Why are you here, Noah?” She crossed her arms defensively.

“Well”—he took a deep breath, bringing his eyes up to meet hers—“I think I mentioned at some point last weekend that you're a hard woman to get over.”

She nodded slowly, not daring to speak.

“I think … maybe I'm destined to never
get
over you. I'm sorry.”

“What does that … mean?”

He looked around, then back at her. “Can we maybe go for a walk? These horses are kind of creeping me out. It's like forty pairs of eyes are staring at us.”

“I don't know. Look where the last walk got us.”

“I remember.” His face grew serious. “I can't forget, dammit.”

Piper froze at his words, delivered in a tone filled with longing. “Okay,” she finally said. She put down her brushes and took off her smock, pulling her jacket from the pony she'd slung it across. “Let's walk.”

When they left the carousel building, Noah reached for her hand like they'd never said good-bye one week ago. She let him, like she'd never promised herself not to fall under his spell again. They walked in silence for ten minutes through the park, following paths lit by Christmas lights, and Piper's brain was like a marquee on warp speed.

Why was he really here? Why tonight? It was Christmas Eve—he should be with his family, delivering the Santa presents for his nieces.

Finally, they got to the log flume ride, which was shuttered for the winter, and he stopped, turning to face her. He took her other hand in his, and he attempted a smile, but it was … nervous. She felt her eyebrows draw together, unsure of what he might say.

“Do you remember the first time you ever went on this ride?”

She raised her eyebrows. Of course she did. “Yes.”

“And do you remember what happened afterward?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I kissed you.”

“Right. You kissed me. For the first time ever. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.”

“Well, I kissed you because I
didn't
die and go to heaven. I was terrified of this freaking ride, if you remember correctly.”

“I remember.” He lifted one hand to her face, cradling it like the pottery bowl he'd held last weekend. “I also remember that you trusted me. You trusted me not to let you get hurt, and you trusted me to take care of you.”

“It was just a ride, Noah. It wasn't … life. If you're trying to make some global comparison here, it's … a stretch.”

“We had a lot of kisses after that one, right? I mean, two years' worth, really.” He smiled, eyebrows playful. “But I remember that one. I'll never forget it, because that was the first time I felt you let go and rely on me, and that feeling? It doesn't get better than that.”

“A ride, Noah.” Her voice was small. What was he after, here? Why were they still having this conversation?

“I'm not going to Belize, Piper.”

Her eyes widened as her eggs poked each other out of their comas. “You're not?”

“I'm not.” He shook his head. “Not Belize, not India, not Alaska. I'm not going.”

“Why … why not?”

He paused. “Because as it turns out, I could die.”

His tone was dire, but laughter bubbled out of her before she could stop it, and she clapped one hand against her mouth.

“It's true,” he continued. “I think, for the past seven years, I've done what I needed to do, but coming back here, seeing you, holding you … kissing you? It eclipses all of that, and if I screw this up a second time, I'll never forgive myself.”

She opened her mouth to deliver the same arguments she'd delivered just last weekend, but he put a gloved finger against her lips.

“Shh. I know what you're going to say. And a week ago, as much as I hated to admit it, I knew you were right.”

“Then why—”

“Because. Because actually, you're wrong. I'm
not
the same guy I was seven years ago. I'm not the same guy who'd put his career ahead of his future. I'm not the same guy who'd get on a plane and leave it all behind. I'm not the same guy … because this time, I can't let you go.”

Before she could answer, his lips were on hers, warm and sure, and she felt all of her defenses crashing down around her as his arms encircled her.

“God, Noah.” She breathed him in, pulled him closer, buried her fingers in his hair.

“Seven years, Piper. We missed seven years. I'm not missing another minute with you.”

“But—”

He silenced her with a kiss. “Don't think. We'll figure it all out. Just … be with me.”

She traced his face with her gloved fingers, loving the way snowflakes clung to his lashes like they didn't want to let go. His face had changed—more crinkles at the corners of his eyes, a deeper cut to his cheekbones—but his eyes were the same ones she'd fallen in love with the first day she'd kissed him. His eyes promised heat, passion … and safety.

She lifted her chin and closed her eyes, letting snowflakes dance onto her face as he held her tight. She had to be dreaming. Any minute, she was going to wake up, crushed when she realized it wasn't real.

Then he slid his hands down her arms, gripping her hands tightly. “Remember how you used to put your toes on mine and lean back to catch the snowflakes?” She smiled. Of course she did. She stepped carefully on his boots, balancing precariously, but he steadied her.

He held tight as she leaned back, ever so slowly. His voice was deep, full of promise as he looked down at her. “Do you trust me?”

She was silent, her eyes closed, drinking in the sensations of his hands on hers, his body so close, the snowflakes landing gently on her eyelids. Yes, she trusted him. She didn't know if eventually she'd regret it, but in this moment, there was only one thing she wanted … him.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

“Second question—do you love me?”

She opened her eyes, expecting to find an amused expression on his face as he held her in a precarious balancing act. But he was dead, dead serious, and her smile faded as she looked into his eyes.

“I do. I hate that I do, but I do. I love you more than anything.”

He smiled. “More than Ben & Jerry's?”

“No. That would be insane. But you're a seriously close second.”

He laughed, pulling her close, lifting her up so her legs encircled his body. “Well, I love
you
more than Ben & Jerry's.”

“You're lactose intolerant. I would hope so.”

He laughed again, spinning her slowly around. “I love you more than anything in the world, Piper Bellini. And I will never,
ever
let you go again.”

Epilogue

“Okay, so what would you do if I fell right now and broke my ankle?” Piper turned to Noah, who was following her through the snow with a backpack on. It was New Year's Day, and he'd convinced her to head out for a winter hike, but she wasn't at all sure she'd made the right decision in finally agreeing to go.

“I'd cut a branch from that tree right there and make a splint.”

“How would you cut it?”

“With the axe I always carry.” He raised his eyebrows, challenging her. “And I'd use the duct tape I
also
always carry to tape the splint to your ankle.”

“And how would you get me out of the woods? Can't walk on a broken ankle, even if it's splinted.”

“Easy. I'd tie you to my pack and drag you back out to the truck.”

“Very funny.”

“You asked.” He smiled. “You're not going to break your ankle, Piper. We're walking through a foot of fresh powder. The worst injury you're going to get today is a sunburn.”

“You say that.” She tipped her head, pointing to a flat expanse he knew was a frozen-over pond. “What if I didn't know that was a pond? What if I fell in?”

He shrugged. “I'd probably leave you for the frogs.”

“Hey.” She slugged him playfully. “I'm serious. What do you do for that?”

Noah stopped walking, sighing and shaking his head. “Is every hike with you going to be like this?”

“Yup. This is why no one ever takes me twice.”

“Shocker.” He ducked as her hand reached out again. “Okay, if you fell into that pond, I'd throw you a rope and pull you out, and then I'd strip you naked, put you in a sleeping bag, and climb in with you.”

She laughed. “That is
not
first aid.”