Snow Falls (14 page)

Cheryl pulled her into a tight hug. “Oh, Jen, I don’t know what to say.”

“I know. Neither do I.”

Cheryl pulled away, smiling slightly. “You really think...think that you’re a lesbian?”

“I don’t know. I feel all mixed up. I don’t know what to do.”

“But you don’t see yourself with Brad? Ever?”

Jen shook her head. “No. I need to tell him. Explain.”

“Explain? About kissing a woman?”

“He needs to know that it’s me, not him.”

“No, no, no. Trust me. You do not want to tell him that. If you want to break it off with him, tell him the truth. Tell him you’re not in love with him. Tell him he doesn’t do it for you. Tell him you don’t feel that way about him anymore. Something. But do
not
tell him it’s because of another woman.”

Jen smiled sadly. “Brad is a nice person. A good person. I don’t want to hurt him. He deserves somebody who can love him and be what he needs. I can’t do it. I wasn’t ever that person. I think we both just pretended that I was.”

Cheryl put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “That’s what you need to tell him.”

Jen leaned against her. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

“No. But do you really think you’re gay?”

“I felt something with her that I have never felt with Brad.” She looked at Cheryl, happy to see only concern in her eyes and not disdain. “I want to feel that again.”

She moved away from Cheryl, her thoughts going to Ryan, to the kisses they had shared. It had felt so wonderfully different. Ryan’s mouth was so soft, so gentle, yet hungry and demanding at the same time. And her body had reacted to that. She never knew what it felt like to be sexually attracted to someone. She’d told Ryan once that she wanted more than what she had with Brad, that there must be
more
. But why Ryan? She couldn’t recall another time when she felt an attraction to a woman before. Just Ryan.

She turned back to Cheryl. “Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I’m overreacting. After all, it was just a kiss.” She shrugged. “It didn’t mean anything.”

But it was so much more than just a kiss. Their bodies had been nearly welded together, her breasts smashed against Ryan’s. When Ryan cupped her hips and pulled her even closer, she felt such a jolt of arousal, something she’d never felt before in her life. And yes, it was something she wanted to feel again.

“Finally.”

After four long weeks and another major snowstorm, Ryan finally heard what she’d been waiting on. Snowplows. She’d gotten her Jeep out and had driven as far as she could—where the avalanche had buried the road. There was still a lot of snow covering it and if she remembered from last year, it would take them three or four days to clear it up to her road. She’d waited this long, she could wait a few more days.

She whistled for the dogs, and they immediately came running. She hated to admit it, but she was starved for company and conversation. Truth was, she was starved for Jen, but that was out of the question.

She had never felt as alone as she had the last four weeks. Even in the darkest hours after her name had been leaked, after the tabloid stories, she’d never felt as disconnected as she had since Jen left. She cursed herself many times for not getting her e-mail address, at least. But what good would it have done to keep in touch that way? Jen had her life. No doubt she was immersed in it again. Ryan wondered if Jen even gave her a thought anymore. No, it was best that they hadn’t kept in touch. Best for both of them.

She hiked on, back to the cabin, the snow all but gone, even on the north side of the cabin. Spring came slowly up here, but she was convinced it had arrived. Birds were coming up from the lower elevations, and chipmunks were once again scurrying about, driving the dogs mad as they chased after them. Oh, sure, snow could still fall again. She’d seen flurries in June before. But it was time to clean off the sundeck, pull out the chairs and her writing table. She could envision many warm, sunny days with her laptop, maybe a cold beer or two. Yeah, summer would make it go away—her loneliness.

Things would get back to normal.

Jen fussed with the place settings, questioning her wisdom of inviting Brad over for a nice dinner when she planned to have
the talk
with him. It just seemed wrong to break up with him over tenderloin fillets and scalloped potatoes.

It wasn’t anything she was looking forward to, but she’d avoided him long enough. He surely had to know what was coming, but knowing Brad—ever the optimist—it probably never occurred to him that she was unhappy and wanted to end their relationship. Their
romantic
relationship, anyway. Brad was the first friend she’d made in college. And while she acknowledged that she’d changed, that they’d both changed, they still had much in common. She hoped they could remain friends, but she was prepared for him to exit her life entirely if that was his choice. That would hurt. She’d been intentionally avoiding him since she’d gotten back, but there still had been many a time she wanted to call him, to tell him something, to share something she’d seen or read, to tell him about the novel she was attempting to write.

She stared at her neatly set dinner table, picturing his face, imagining how hurt he would be.

“Maybe this is a mistake,” she whispered.

No. It wasn’t a mistake. And she wasn’t acting hastily. And it had nothing whatsoever to do with Ryan. In fact, she’d very nearly pushed all thoughts of Ryan away in the last few weeks.

Liar!

Regardless, it wasn’t a mistake. She’d known for months—years even—that Brad was not her soul mate, was not the person she was meant to spend her life with. There had to be more than this. She
wanted
more than this.

The sound of the doorbell startled her. Brad always just knocked so when she opened the door, she was surprised to find him standing there. She smiled at him, and though he returned it, she could see by the look in his eyes that he knew exactly what the evening would entail. Her smile faded quickly.

“Come in,” she said politely.

He held up a bottle of wine. “I know we don’t often have wine with dinner, but I thought we might need this.” He leaned closer and placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Don’t look so worried. It’s going to be fine.”

She sighed with relief. Brad hadn’t had his head stuck in the sand after all.

“Why don’t you open it?” she suggested. “Dinner is all but ready.”

He was as familiar with her kitchen as she was. They both enjoyed cooking, and they’d made many a meal together. She felt nostalgic as she watched him with the corkscrew. He was a handsome man, and when they’d first met in college, she often wondered why he wanted to be friends with her. She had still been in her awkward stage, hideous glasses and all. But friends they became. And eventually lovers. But as she watched him, she knew that part of their relationship had been a mistake. There had never been any passion between them, and had she been stronger and surer of herself, she wouldn’t have allowed their relationship to evolve as it had. She only hoped now they could salvage a friendship out of it all.

“You know, you’ve only told me bits and pieces about your stay in the mountains,” he said as he poured two glasses of wine. “Yet you didn’t seem disappointed you missed the workshop.”

“I was disappointed at first,” she said. “But there wasn’t anything I could do about it, and after seven weeks, well, I adjusted.” She took the glass he held out to her with a smile. “Thank you. I don’t know if I told you, but she was an editor. She gave me some tips on writing and was very willing to answer my many questions. I sort of feel like I did go to a workshop.”

He studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve changed,” he said simply.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“I think it took you being away so long and then coming back for me to notice just how much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I mean that in a good way. You look very confident. When I first met you, you were scared of your own shadow. In class, you sat away from everyone else, you wouldn’t look at anyone.”

“I was afraid to talk to people.”

He smiled and nodded. “I could tell how beautiful you were, even though you tried to hide it behind plain, outdated clothes and glasses.”

She laughed. “My plain, outdated clothes and glasses were all that I knew. Remember that book I read?”

“The wallflower one? Yes. It was awful,” he reminded her.

“I know. But it did get me to change my clothes. And eventually get contacts.”

“That your grandmother still thinks you wear.”

“Lasik? They would have considered that surgery a huge waste of money.”

“Have you spoken to her lately?”

Jen shook her head. “Not since I’ve been back. That’s horrible, I know, but we can’t have a normal conversation. I can’t tell her anything without her finding fault with it. And she
still
wants me to move back to Lubbock.”

“And your mother?”

“No. I haven’t spoken to her since...Christmas, I guess. And you know, we get along fine now, it’s just that we don’t have a whole lot to say to each other. I mean, she’s got a new life, new husband, new kids. We just don’t have much in common.” She motioned him away. “We should eat,” she said as she opened the oven.

“Oh, that smells good.” He peeked inside. “Your famous scalloped potatoes?”

She laughed. “I spent a fortune on the tenderloins and you’re more interested in my potatoes?”

“Yes. And if you’re really nice, you’ll send me home with leftovers.”

“Don’t I usually?”

“Yes, but...well,” he said with a shrug.

She met his eyes briefly, noting a touch of sadness there. She felt the same. “We’ll talk over dinner,” she said.

He helped her carry everything to the table, and she admitted it did look—and smell—good. She smiled with pleasure as he moaned after his first bite.

“Delicious,” he murmured.

“Thank you.” She’d made the scalloped potatoes because it was his favorite. It was her grandmother’s recipe, and even though she’d tweaked it a little to be a bit healthier, it was still delicious. So were the fillets; her knife cut through them like butter.

“Do you think we’ll still cook dinner together occasionally?”

She looked up, surprised.

“Earlier when I said you’d changed—I know what that means, Jen.”

She took a sip of her wine, enjoying the taste, delaying the inevitable. “I’ve been content,” she said. “Not necessarily unhappy, but not happy either.” She stared at him. “I think you’ve probably felt the same.”

“Content, yes. Happy? Happy enough, I suppose.”

“We started out as friends. For three years,” she said. “I’m not really sure when it became dating. I mean, we always went to the movies together. We always shared meals. When did we start calling it dating?”

“It was after a football game. Everyone was all excited that we’d won. And I kissed you.”

She laughed. “And you didn’t kiss me again for
weeks
,” she reminded him.

“That’s because you never acknowledged the first one.”

No, she hadn’t. That was because she wasn’t sure what it meant. Young and clueless, that was her. Even back then, his kiss brought no excitement or sexual arousal. Just like now. But she didn’t want to hurt him.

“I can’t keep doing this, Brad. You are one of my very best friends in the whole world, but I can’t convince myself—or you—that I’m in love with you. It’s not fair to you. You need to find someone who can love you like you deserve to be loved.”

He nodded. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know this day was coming. I’ve known it for years. I guess I just kept hoping that it would be enough.”

“Is it enough for you? Don’t you want that passion, that excitement that we’ve never had between us?”

“I know our sex life hasn’t been great. I just thought—”

“That it was enough?”

“I guess I was hoping it would change. That we would find it somehow.”

She smiled sadly. “Yes, I think we probably could find it. Just not with each other.”

He picked up his glass, but before he took a sip, he stared at her. “I have to ask. Is there someone else?”

“No, Brad. There’s no one else.” And that, she knew, was the truth.

He nodded. “So where do we go from here? Do we make an announcement to the group? You know Sherry and Michael are having their annual Memorial Day party.”

“You mean go to the party together and tell them we’re breaking up?”

“I mean we’ll go as friends. And tell them we’re having a civil breakup.” He grinned. “But just because we’re friends, that doesn’t mean I want to know about any dates you have. At least not for a while.”

“I was so dreading having this talk with you. Thank you for being so understanding.”

“I know you’ve been avoiding me. And I knew why; I just didn’t want to admit it.” He went back to his dinner and so did she. “You’re right, you know.”

“About?”

“About just being content. We were good companions and to me, that was more important than having a great sex life.”

Jen laughed. “Yes. That’s what they call
friends
.”

Ryan slowed as she drove into Lake City, just past Slumgullion, thankful that now, in early May, the tourists weren’t yet out and about. It felt good to get out, to drive around. She glanced in the rearview mirror, smiling as Kia and Sierra hung out the opened window, their tongues flapping in the breeze. Yes, they were probably glad to get off the mountain too.

Even though it was a cool day, she parked in the shade, cracking the windows enough to allow the girls some air. She headed directly to the sheriff’s office, hoping to catch Reese. The bell above the door signaled her arrival, and she smiled, wondering how many times she’d heard Reese say she was going to take that
damn
bell down. Eloise, the office manager, greeted her with a hug, something Ryan secretly loved.