"Yeah. And it's no big deal. I didn't want you shoveling with your hurt back."
The allegation was covered in silk, but she caught it, and she resented it. Neither spoke as their gazes locked in place. Ozzy's eyes were hooded and dark.
Her jacket vibrated and Beth pulled out the cell phone, breaking the stare. She didn't recognize the number associated with the text message, but she knew who it was from. Harrison. He said she didn't need to come over today.
A frown tugged at her mouth. Beth couldn't remember if she'd given him her number, not that it mattered. He had it. Her brain was riddled with holes lately, making the simplest things hard to remember. Why didn't he want her to come over? Disappointment, shocking in its amount, engulfed her body. Her hand dropped to her side.
"What's wrong?"
Beth looked at Ozzy, saw the questions and suspicions in his eyes. "Nothing. I don't have to go to work today. It's an unexpected free day, that's all."
His gaze dropped to the phone. "Your boss sends you text messages? Isn't that a little unorthodox?"
"They don't like talking on the phone," she quickly told him.
"I guess anyone who doesn't want people to know who they are must be strange." Ozzy talked in an agreeable tone, but Beth knew it was a ruse. A calculated gleam darkened his eyes to burnished gold. He was digging for information.
Refusing to comment, Beth gathered the empty plastic bags and shoved them under the sink, her back protesting the motion. Another thing she couldn't recall was how much she'd told Ozzy about her job or boss, and she wasn't going to say more and indirectly give away something of Harrison.
"I have stuff to do," she said as she straightened, giving him a pointed look.
Ozzy looked at his boots and nodded. "Right. Me too. I guess I should get going."
He strode to her, pulling her into his arms before she could move out of reach. Beth remained stiff, not allowing herself to sink into his embrace and their history. Ozzy smelled like snow and a warped love. Once she was happy with him, once he had her heart. Once. It was dangerous to think of moments that no longer were.
"Let me go," she commanded quietly, careful not to move.
Ozzy kissed her forehead and caressed her hair, and her skin crawled at the wrongness of it. "I can't. I can't not have you in my life in some way, Beth."
"Ozzy, please."
He pulled away, pain adding grooves to his face, making it seem older and harder. "You've been part of my life since I was a kid. You're part of me."
"It'll get easier," she told him, trying to believe the words. Beth wanted him to forget about her, about what they used to have. Neither of them would truly be free until he did.
"It's been months. It hasn't gotten easier."
"But you're dating. I know you've had girlfriends. It's hypocritical of you to act hurt at the thought of me being with someone else when you're already there." Beth stepped away, putting her back to him as she crossed the room.
She looked into the living room, her eyes landing on the laptop where it rested on the coffee table. Already she craved a connection to Harrison, even if it was through a computer. Words. She needed to write about him. Anticipation shot her through with energy, and Beth felt the hum in her veins. She wanted to forget all the ways her heart had bled for Ozzy, and she could do that with the magnetism of Harrison's untold story.
Beth looked at Ozzy. "You've been with other women. Don't pretend you haven't."
His eyes shifted down and away, the tightness of his jaw admitting he had. "It doesn't change how I feel about you."
"But it changed how I feel about you," she told him, crossing her arms. "Too much has happened. We can't go back. That's wrong. It's wrong to try to live in the past, Ozzy."
"Don't say that," he pleaded, crossing the room to her. "Don't designate me to a part of your past, Beth. Please."
She looked to the right of him, her gaze moving to him as she spoke. "If you need a night off from the bar sometime, let me know and I'll cover it if I can. To make up for you filling in for me."
His mouth contorted. "I don't want your gratitude."
Beth didn't say anything.
Veils dropped over his eyes, and coldness descended. It chilled her blood, looking into Ozzy's eyes and seeing nothing. A stranger looked back at her, and trepidation unfurled in her chest. She'd seen him angry before, but only once, had she seen him furious. Beth had hoped to never see that side of him again. Rejection did not sit well with Ozzy.
"It didn't have to be this way." Although his words had no inflection and seemed calmly spoken, Beth took them as they were meant to be-a warning.
Ozzy left through the front door, and as soon as the door closed, she was there to lock it. Beth took steadying breaths, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her stomach. She was overreacting. Nothing bad was going to happen. Ozzy was hurt, but he'd get over it. Eventually, he'd become serious about someone else, and Beth would no longer hold any interest for him.
She worried about the time until then, though, a sense of foreboding beating along with her heart.
SIX
AFTER STARING AT the computer screen for over an hour and producing a total of thirteen words, Beth decided it was time for a change of scenery. She had plenty of notes and thoughts, but she wasn't sure how to put them all together. The story wasn't close to being ready to be written, not even the first page. Beth needed more of Harrison, and that wasn't happening today. Part of her worried that he was sick and that that was why he'd told her not to come, but Beth told herself it wasn't any of her concern.
Telling herself that didn't make her worry any less. How could she care about him so quickly, so completely?
"Feelings cannot be decided by time," she told herself with a single nod, and then raced for pen and paper to jot it down before she forgot it. Somewhere, sometime, those words would be needed.
Bundling up in layers of clothes and stuffing herself into her winter outerwear, Beth left the warmth of her home to trek through the snow and cold. She felt disoriented from switching from Harrison's reality to her own. Hers seemed trivial in comparison. What did she have to worry about? Bills and an obsessed ex-boyfriend.
Darkness hovered around Harrison, murky and impenetrable.
Beth looked up at the fiery sun, wanting to break through Harrison's darkness. Like the sun. She smiled and took a right at the end of her driveway, heading toward her parents' home. Harrison would resent her trying. He would tell her that wasn't why he'd hired her. Beth shrugged to herself. She was beginning to wonder why he'd hired her at all. His reasoning didn't strike her as being entirely truthful. Her brain was full of unanswered questions, and it weighed on her.
She quickened her pace as she passed Ozzy's brother's house, knowing someone inside probably had their eyes on the window and were watching her. Beth contemplated flipping them off, but refrained. She swore Ozzy went there as often as he did with the hopes of catching her in one of her many walks. Too many coincidental interactions with her ex made Beth think they were premeditated.
Her steps lightened as she turned down another street and the house disappeared from view. Harrison's intense eyes flashed through her head, and Beth stumbled as her pulse went into hiatus. The way he'd looked at her last night, the words he'd spoken. The heat, the tension. It made her stomach swirl and her hands shake. Harrison might be surrounded by obscurity, but there was passion in him as well. She was crazy to let herself think of him in any capacity other than as her employer.
Beth closed her eyes and took a calming breath before focusing on the houses around her. A lot of them were small to medium in size, some rundown and in need of repair, but there were a few that boasted of their owner's wealth. Splashes of color peeked out from beneath white, and as she watched, a chunk of snow slid off a roof to crash to the ground below. It moved like a frozen wave and sounded like thunder.
Houses were odd. People built them, lived in them for a while, and then they sold them. Another family moved in, moved out. Houses were recycled. Redecorated. Remodeled. Made into homes and then abandoned for another. It always struck her as strange that a home of one family could turn into a home for another. Their lives were imprinted in the walls, layers and layers of hopes and dreams and fears. Loss and love.
It was interesting how barren the town seemed in the winter, especially on the colder days. The houses appeared deserted, as did the cars parked in driveways and along the streets. People didn't go outside unless it was necessary-except for Beth, who was asking to get sick. The heat of the sun helped to keep her somewhat unfrozen, but as she finished the two-mile walk, Beth's cheeks and ears ached.