When Snow Falls (25 page)

Then they wouldn’t have met. But he didn’t say that. “Another mother could be a good thing.”

“Or it could be a bitter disappointment,” she said. “What if Anita didn’t steal me? What if my real mother gave me away? Maybe she was no better than Anita. Worse, because she wanted to be rid of me.”

“That’s not very likely,” he said. “It isn’t consistent with your memories.”

“I’m not even sure those memories are real.”

Her cell phone rang before he could respond. He watched as she grabbed it, so hopeful, then sagged. Obviously, it wasn’t her sister. After hitting the decline button, she tossed it away.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Eve.”

“You don’t want to talk to her?”

She curled into him again. “Not right now.”

“She’s your best friend. And it’s Christmas Eve.”

“I’ll see her when she gets home.”

“She’s probably worried about you.”

No response.

Eve had been out of town for over a week. Why wouldn’t Cheyenne be excited to hear from her? “Chey?”

“I’m dealing with enough,” she said when she spoke, but he got the feeling it was more than that. She and Eve had been inseparable since high school.

“Commiserating with her might help.”

“I’m fine. I’ve got you.”

Did she have to choose one or the other? “You don’t want her to know about me,” he guessed.

She tucked her hair behind her ears as she sat up. “She already knows.”

“And she doesn’t approve.”

“She needs to see what you’re really like.”

Would that change her opinion? What if he couldn’t win her over? Cheyenne’s friends were a large part of her identity. They’d been her surrogate family. He couldn’t imagine ripping her away from that support; he was sure she’d begin to resent him at some point if he did.

But he also couldn’t imagine the crowd that had always looked down their noses at him suddenly welcoming him into the group, either.

* * *

Cheyenne woke up alone. For a second, she wondered if the past couple of weeks had been a dream. She expected her mother to call out for more pain medication, or food, or to be repositioned in the bed, and for her sister to return home from work.

But then she rolled over and smelled a hint of Dylan’s cologne on the pillow and remembered making love with him last night. Some of the worst things in the world had happened to her since Eve and the others had left for the Caribbean. But so had some of the best. Dylan pretty much carried that end of things.

Where was he?

Since it was Christmas morning, she figured he’d gone home to see his brothers. But then she heard the front door open and close.

“Dylan?” She stretched as she called his name. Normally Christmas morning meant cooking a big breakfast for Anita and Presley and exchanging what gifts they had. Since coming to Whiskey Creek, it meant getting together with Eve and her family in the evening for a few hours, too. Sometimes Presley came along. More often Presley stayed with Anita or had her own friends over. Yesterday, the Harmons had called to see if she’d be joining them as usual. But she told them she was already committed to having dinner somewhere else.

Dylan stuck his head in the room. He was wearing the same faded jeans and sweatshirt he’d worn last night, along with an endearing grin. A baseball cap suggested he’d dressed without showering, but she liked him as he was, liked the contrast between his dark beard growth and his white teeth. “Merry Christmas.”

She gave him a sleepy smile. “Merry Christmas. But…isn’t it a little early to be up?”

His grin turned slightly sheepish. “Sorry. Can’t help it. I always wake up early. And it was
especially
hard to sleep this morning.”

“Because…”

“I’m excited about giving you your gift.”

“You got me something?” She shoved herself onto her elbows. This wasn’t particularly welcome news since she’d been too busy searching for Presley and making funeral arrangements for Anita to even think about a gift for him. “When would you have had time for that?”

“While I was at work yesterday. I did some research on the internet, made a few calls and found
just
what I wanted.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Really.”

“But…I’d rather we waited to exchange presents until I’ve had a chance to do some shopping myself. I—”

“I’m not expecting anything,” he broke in. “Just being with you is enough.”

The honesty of that statement, together with the sincerity on his face, touched her deeply. He meant it. “Why me?” she asked softly, turning the question he’d once asked back on him.

When he answered, she could tell he understood. “You fit me perfectly. I’ve known you would for a long time.”

A wave of happiness washed over her. Amid all the pain and confusion and moral ambiguity she’d been suffering, she’d found someone who soothed every ache and eased every complaint, and he did it just by being
him.
Ironically, he was the least likely person in Whiskey Creek. Would she have given him a chance if she hadn’t bumped into him in the park that day?

Probably not…

“I’ll go and shower.”

He made a sound of impatience. “Do you have to? I can’t wait.”

Who would’ve guessed big bad Dylan Amos could remind her so much of an eager little boy? But she loved that unexpected, innocent quality.

“Okay, I’m coming,” she said with a laugh and started to get up. She thought he’d want her to go into the living room and sit by the tree, but he held up one hand. “Wait right there.”

She heard the front door again. When he returned, he wasn’t carrying a wrapped present, but he cradled a furry black-and-white bundle in his arms, which he brought over to her.

“A puppy? You got me a
puppy?
” She reached out to take the squirming little animal, but he hesitated before handing it over.

“I need to explain something first.”

As she reached out to scratch behind the dog’s ears, it tried to lick her hand. She was so ecstatic she couldn’t wait to hold her new pet. “What?”

“I was actually going to get a different dog. So if you want, we can take her back. It was just that…once I saw her, I couldn’t resist.”

“Why would I want to do that? She’s darling! I’ve always wanted a dog. What breed is she?”

“Can’t say for sure. There’s some Akita and maybe Golden Retriever.”

Thrilled at having her first real pet, Cheyenne reached for the animal again, but Dylan still wouldn’t hand her over. “Can I hold her?” she asked in surprise.

At last, he relinquished the puppy, but she could tell he was watching closely for her reaction. “What’s wrong? Why are you—” And then, as she brought the puppy’s body against her chest, she knew something was wrong. Setting the animal on the bed, she took a closer look. The dog was missing a hind leg.

Dylan met her questioning gaze. “It’s a birth defect. I knew the other dogs wouldn’t have any trouble finding homes, but…the volunteer who was helping me said this one probably wouldn’t be adopted.”

Tears gathered in Cheyenne’s eyes as she watched the unfortunate puppy use three legs to scamper around the bed. “So you rescued the poor thing.” As he’d rescued his brothers when he was only eighteen. As he’d rescued
her,
although she hadn’t known how badly she’d needed rescuing.

He thrust his hands in his pockets. “Actually, I’ll take her if you don’t want her. Then we can find you a different puppy.”

“No.” She scooped her new pet close and buried her face in its fur. “I love her. She’s exactly the dog I would’ve chosen.”

“Seriously?” He seemed unsure.

“You’ve seen my Christmas tree, haven’t you?”

“Your Christmas tree?”

“Never mind,” she said with a laugh. “To me, she’s perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” The tension in his body eased and he started to look as happy as she felt. “I bought her a bed, a leash, some food and toys. You should have everything you need.” He bent over to kiss her temple. “Merry Christmas.”

She looked up at him as he straightened. “There’s no one like you, Dylan Amos.”

He chuckled. “There are a lot of people in Whiskey Creek who’d tell you they’re grateful for that.”

The sound of the doorbell interrupted them before she could respond. “Who could be stopping by at ten o’clock on Christmas morning?” she asked.

A shrug said he had no idea, but since he was dressed and she wasn’t, he went out to see. Then he called back to her. “Chey, it’s Riley.”

27

“W
hy aren’t you taking Eve’s calls?” Riley stood on Cheyenne’s porch, eyeing Dylan, who was in the living room behind her, with no small amount of suspicion.

“A gift from your aunt?” She held her new puppy against her chest with one arm while indicating the sweater he was wearing.

“Yeah. Noni gives me one every year,” he replied distractedly.

Cheyenne already knew this. Following Christmas, they wore their worst gifts to coffee. It was a tradition. “What did you do with that purple one from last year?”

His frown became more marked. “You haven’t answered my question.”

She nuzzled her face against her dog’s back. “Eve’s only tried to reach me a couple of times.”

“So you
are
aware that she’s been trying to call.”

A twinge of conscience stole much of the pleasure Cheyenne had been feeling prior to his visit. “Yes, and I’ve been planning to call her back. It’s just that…my life has been crazy the past few days. You, of all people, should know
how
crazy.”

“That’s why she’s so desperate to get hold of you! That’s why she called me and begged me to come over here even though I was in the middle of opening presents with Jacob.”

“I’m sorry she interrupted your Christmas. I’ll call her.”

“When?”

“Today.”

He wasn’t satisfied. It obviously bothered him that Dylan was in her house. He hadn’t even mentioned her puppy. “Why have you been avoiding her in the first place?”

How did she explain that hearing what Eve had to say about Dylan upset her? That she was already in too deep to back out? That she didn’t want her friends, who’d always meant so much to her, to ruin what she was experiencing? And that she didn’t want the fact that she couldn’t listen to their warnings to destroy their friendship? “She’s worried about things she shouldn’t be.”

“How do you know? How do you know
you
shouldn’t be worried, too? You’re taking a huge risk, Chey.”

“By getting romantically involved with someone?” she asked. “I think I’m entitled, don’t you?”

“Of course you’re entitled. It’s just—” he dragged one hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in front “—you’re particularly vulnerable right now. Maybe this isn’t the best time to be picking someone.”

“Did Eve say that?”

“More or less,” he admitted. “Although I could’ve come up with it on my own. You’ve seen what…keeping the wrong kind of company has done for your sister.”

Suddenly, the door was wrenched from her grasp as Dylan opened it wider. “Since you’re talking about the Amoses, maybe this is a conversation the two of us should be having.”

Contrary to Riley’s earlier comments about Dylan, when he’d joked around about being frightened of him, he didn’t act intimidated now. He seemed resolute, prepared, as if he’d known they might have a confrontation. That was probably the reason he hadn’t brought Jacob along. Unless he was in school, Jacob was always with Riley. “Fine, if it’ll make a difference.”

Dylan’s deep voice sounded from above Cheyenne’s head. “What kind of difference were you hoping for?”

Hearing Dylan’s inflexible tone, Cheyenne decided she couldn’t allow this to go any further. “Stop,” she said, trying to nudge him out of the doorway. “I don’t want this to develop into a fight.”

“That’s the problem right there,” Riley said. “You shouldn’t have to worry that an encounter like this could turn violent. Would you be saying the same thing if you were dating
Joe?
”

“I wouldn’t have to.”

“Exactly!”

“Because you’ve accepted Joe. You wouldn’t be challenging him.”

“She’s made her decision,” Dylan broke in. “You need to respect that.”

Riley didn’t respond to him. Instead, he locked eyes with her. “Is that true? You won’t listen?”

She hesitated. She wanted him and Eve and all the others to understand, but she knew their prejudices were too strong. Dylan’s reputation had preceded him and, even though he’d changed, they weren’t willing or able to recognize it. “Yes,” she finally said. “I care about him. A lot.”

“Shit.” His shoulders slumped as he glanced between them.

“Please try to understand,” she whispered.

“Understand?”
he echoed.

“He makes me feel things no one else ever has.”

“It’s called sex, Chey. We’ve been telling you about it for years.”

The flippancy of that remark angered her. “That’s not what I’m talking about,” she snapped. “Maybe I clung to my virginity a little longer than everyone else, but I’m not naive. I was raised by a crude, foulmouthed woman who often prostituted herself. I’ve seen things I’ve never told you about, things that would curl your toes. So don’t talk to me as if I’m too innocent to have a clue about life!”

A muscle twitched in Riley’s cheek, but he didn’t reply right away. When he did, he spoke more softly, as though he was trying to reel in the emotions that were taking charge. “Is there anything we can do to convince you that you’re making a mistake?”

She shook her head. It was too late. She’d already made her choice.

“Then we can’t help you,” he said, and stalked back to his SUV.

* * *

“Merry Christmas, huh?” Dylan muttered as he watched Riley drive away.

Cheyenne turned to face him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

He pretended it didn’t bother him and closed the door. “I haven’t led a perfect life. I’ll be the first to admit it.” But he’d never dreamed he’d regret his mistakes quite as much as he did, never dreamed that gaining the approval of Cheyenne’s friends would one day mean so much to him. Even if he’d known, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to change his behavior.

“You’ve done the best you can,” she said.

But his best wasn’t enough. Despite knowing that her friends would judge him for lighting up—probably use his smoking as proof that he wasn’t as good as they were—he wanted a cigarette. Quitting was much harder than he’d ever imagined.

Maybe he didn’t have what he needed to make Cheyenne happy.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

He slipped his arms around her and the puppy she was holding and kissed her neck. What would they have been like if they’d led different lives? “Joe’s the better man. Maybe you need to hear it directly from me.”

She backed away from him. “I don’t believe it.”

He stared down at her. “You did at one time.”

“That was before I got to know you.”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Chey. We could be making a mistake. I could hurt you, or you could hurt me—”

“That’s the risk with any relationship. People change. We can only judge by what we feel now.”

“Will that be enough to get us through?”

“
I
think so.”

“How can you be that confident?” he asked. Her friends weren’t even home yet. Just wait until they were....

“Because…”

When she didn’t finish what she’d started to say, he tilted his head in question.

“I admire Joe. I really do. But…” She set down the dog. Then she straightened and her expression softened as she met his eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

Dylan had never expected her to make that kind of admission, that kind of commitment. Not so soon. Not when she had so many reasons to feel torn. But it gave him the confidence he needed to believe that maybe, just maybe, they had a right to be together. He’d never felt the way he was feeling at this moment. The craving for cigarettes disappeared. So did the difficulties he’d known since he lost his mother, the confusion and anger inspired by his father, the loss, the betrayal, the lashing out that came as a result and the regrouping in order to cope. The only thing that mattered was that this woman welcomed his kiss, his touch, his imperfect heart.

* * *

Cheyenne spent a wonderful morning with Dylan and her new three-legged puppy.

After showering, they took Lucky, which was what she’d decided to name her dog, and walked over to see Dylan’s brothers.

It’d snowed in the night, covering the landscape with a thin blanket of white. The river bottoms had never been the prettiest part of town, but they looked beautiful now, as pristine as anywhere else.

For a second, as she gazed down the road that eventually wound to the right, Cheyenne was sorry Anita wasn’t around to see the lacy trees. It was so rare that they looked this way. That it was Christmas morning gave this beauty special significance.

Maybe, with time, she’d learn to appreciate the better parts of the woman her mother had been. She hoped so. She wanted more than the dark memories that rose in her mind so often.

Except for Mack, everyone was still sleeping, even though it was after noon. No doubt the Amos boys had partied late and were taking advantage of the chance to sleep in, since they didn’t have to work. Even Dylan’s dogs didn’t come and greet them, so she felt comfortable putting Lucky on the floor.

Glad she didn’t have to encounter Aaron right away, she breathed a small sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure how she’d react to him, given that she believed him to be one of the reasons her sister ran off.

“There you are.” Mack seemed a little forlorn, sitting in front of the TV alone, with no decorations on the tree and no presents underneath. He was only twenty-one, after all. Like the rest of the Amoses, he’d had to grow up fast—but twenty-one was still young not to have the love and support of either parent. Cheyenne felt guilty for stealing Dylan away for so long.

“Hey, you about ready for your present?” Dylan asked.

Mack’s reserve seemed to vanish. “Were you trying to make me think I wasn’t getting one this year?”

Dylan laughed. “You’ve never been overlooked before, have you?”

“Santa’s never been so preoccupied,” Mack teased, winking at her.

She grinned back at him. “Fortunately, your Santa’s pretty reliable.” Another thing she liked about Dylan.

Dylan marched down the hall, banging on doors as he went. “Hey, you’re sleeping Christmas away! Get up if you want your presents!”

Cheyenne watched to make sure Lucky would be okay when Dylan’s dogs came bounding out of the bedrooms, but they merely sniffed her, looked at Mack as though asking how they should react to this interloper, then wagged their tails. Once Cheyenne was satisfied that Lucky wouldn’t be harmed, she sauntered over to the kitchen and peered in the cupboards. She wanted to start baking. Dylan had assured her they’d have all the supplies she’d need, but he’d never made pies before.

“Where’d that dog come from?” Mack asked.

She turned to see that Dylan’s youngest brother had followed her. “She’s my Christmas present.”

“A deformed puppy? I hope it wasn’t from Dylan.”

She couldn’t help laughing at his horror. “Actually, it was.”

“Jeez, he couldn’t have gotten you one with all its legs?”

“He picked the one I would’ve picked,” she said simply. She loved Dylan all the more for understanding what would be important to her, but she didn’t add that.

“I see. Nice.”

She laughed again when he finished with an uncertain “I guess,” that indicated he didn’t see at all. Then another voice caught her attention.

“Is Presley home?”

The joy she’d been feeling seemed to leak out of her, like a balloon slowly losing its air, as she noticed Aaron, who looked as if he’d just stumbled out of bed.

“I’m afraid not,” she said. “Not yet.”

“Have you heard from her?” Eyes red, hair wild, he’d obviously passed a very difficult night.

“No.”

A confused, hurt expression stole over his face. “Where could she be? She never goes too long before contacting me.”

Cheyenne shook her head. She had no answers.

* * *

Presley squinted up at the single bulb on the ceiling overhead, in so much pain she could hardly move. Apparently, a “light” bondage session for her new business partner meant whips and chains
and
a few blows from his closed fists. But at least he’d provided some of the best drugs she’d ever had. He’d used a needle. She hated to think it was heroin—she knew how addictive it could be, had always promised herself she’d never go that far—but she had a feeling heroin was exactly what had produced such a magnificent high.

Gingerly, she moved her tongue over her busted lip, listening to find out if the man she’d met outside that ramshackle grocery had returned. He’d been gone for hours, or so she thought. She couldn’t say with any certainty. Before he left, he’d given her another shot. She’d been floating in euphoria for God knows how long. As a result, she wasn’t aware of who was in the house with her or how much time had passed. She couldn’t even tell if it was day or night. She had only one frame of reference: she could remember being driven to an old pueblo-style house that sat on hard-packed dirt with the desert stretching for miles beyond it. The windows had been blacked out, the place had smelled like mildew and there’d been plenty of BDSM toys in the bedroom—along with a video camera.

“Dick?” Her voice sounded more like a croak. But she didn’t care. She was trying to remember if Dick was even his name.

No answer. Running water droned in her ear. When she listened carefully, she was pretty sure it was the toilet in the bathroom.

“Dick?” She lifted her head, trying to see if the video camera was rolling, but there was no way to tell. He’d left the overhead light on, but she couldn’t see a red indicator on the camera.

She called his name two more times, louder, and tried to move but found that her right arm was still shackled to the headboard. What the hell? How dare he leave her like this? How would she get free?

She was just starting to tug in earnest, despite the pain caused by the slightest movement, when she saw a key on the nightstand. She could unlock herself and leave. But beside it was a syringe containing a brownish liquid and a note that read, “Have a good time while I’m gone. Merry Christmas.”