“I want you to leave this room now and go home, but I don’t want you to come back after you shower. I want you to say your goodbyes to me right here, right now.”
“What!? What are you saying?” My heart stutters in my throat.
“I’m saying what you think I’m saying. I love you so much more than having you sit here by my side for the next few days. I don’t want that. You swore to me, Cate.”
“Drew, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Now, go. Turn around, walk through that door, and don’t ever look back. All my stuff is boxed exactly like I asked you to, and you know what to do with it. My parents and yours will be here, along with Ben. But you, you don’t need to be here. I don’t want you to be here. I want you to remember me as I was, when I was healthy, during our best times. Now, look at that door and take your first steps into your new life, Cate. And promise me you’ll live. Just live, Cate. Do it for me.”
Two years and four months later
THE BITTER COLD SLIPS THROUGH my wool coat as if it’s mesh, causing me to hug myself tighter. As I make my way across the street, the countdown on the crosswalk sign nearly ends, and I quicken my steps. The way my luck goes these days, I won’t make it across in time. Instead, I’m likely to get run over by a tiny Smart car, of all things, because DC cabbies are just as crazy as the ones in New York. And somehow I’ll survive, only without the use of any of my limbs. .
Just as my feet land on the curb, a cab roars by, sending a slushy wave of ice and snow against the back of my legs and the bottom half of my coat. I shiver as the cold seeps into my very bones.
“Great,” I mutter, dusting myself off while sidestepping the ice patches that litter the sidewalks after yesterday’s winter storm. Of all the luck. Washington, DC is supposed to be the exception to northern winters, or so I’ve been told. It’s just far enough south to squeak past the worst of the northern winter weather. Much like Charleston, historically, old man winter doesn’t dump buckets of snow in the area—or at least until I decided to make this place my home.
Yesterday’s snow nearly beat the record of earliest recorded snowfall on October 5, 1892. We’ve missed that by a grand seven days. Great for me—not. I’m not a fan of the white stuff, which is why I chose DC over the Big Apple. My needs were simple and my requirements few when I made the decision to leave South Carolina about a year ago, two of which were to be in a big city and preferably north. What I didn’t bank on is living in a place where cold is the norm more months out of the year than not. Guess the joke’s on me.
Jarred from my inner thoughts, I take the wrong step and end up slipping and sliding with wide arching, wind-milling arms. The comical movements do nothing to stop the momentum and I lose my footing. A hand snakes out from nowhere and takes hold of my arm while another steadies my hip. I have to glance way up to see my savior, who is somewhere in the stratosphere above me.
Immediately, the dull gray of the day disappears and I find myself swimming in an ocean of tropical blue. Disbelief clouds my gaze because instantly I recognize the person who saved me. It’s as if fate decided to play Russian roulette with my life and I’ve finally pulled the trigger with a voracious bang.
“Hi,” I stammer.
The man with the aqua eyes and a face I can study forever stares at me a second longer than awkward. A wide-eyed gaze confirms he is just as surprised to see me.
When he speaks, his voice is as deep as the shit I stand in. There is too much history between us. Yet, for a second, the sexy glint in his eyes glamours away all my reticent thoughts of the past.
“Hi. I...ah... never expected to see you here.” That’s the understatement of the century. “On the streets of DC of all places, and me playing rescuer.” His southern drawl glides off his tongue like warm honey.
Jostled some more by passersby, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he silently steers me out of the line of foot traffic over to the side of a building next to an ATM machine.
Although we are both almost covered head to foot in winter gear, we are close enough that I feel the heat rolling off of him. Thoughts of the past flitter across my brain like the odd saying that someone walked over my grave, and I shiver.
His gloved hand rubs down my arm as if he notices.
“Are you living here now?”
I nod stupidly because he has to be the last person I’d ever thought I would see again, especially since I’ve been mostly running away from him.
“Yes. You?” I ask, truly curious if he’s visiting or not.
A cloud of frost escapes his mouth when he sighs and runs a gloved hand through hair that appears highlighted by the sun despite the season. “I’m not sure.”
My brows rise as I give him a conspicuous look before responding with a half laugh. “That’s odd. Either you are or you’re not.” My tone, although playful, doesn’t stop my gut from twisting into complicated knots.
He shrugs. “I’m testing the waters. Now that I’ve finished my fellowship—”