When the Heart Falls(45)

That I'm terrified he doesn't want the same thing.

His shoulders slump as the anger drains out of him. "I'll sleep on the couch."



Exposed beams and honey-colored walls give our room a rustic charm that is cozy. The bed faces a fireplace with wood stacked by its side. There is no couch.

Cade drops his stuff by the bed and walks to the bathroom. "If you don't mind, I need to hop in the shower."

"Go ahead."

He leaves to wash up, and I pace the room. He hasn't talked much since the train, and I hope I didn't screw things up talking about our relationship status, a conversation I know guys are loath to have. But it had to be faced. I want to be with him all summer. No, that's a lie. I want to be with him longer than that, but it's impossible. We'll be in different countries, on different continents, living different lives.

All we have is now.

I just hope we can enjoy the time we have rather than worry about the pain that awaits us at the end. Because I lied about that, too. It will hurt. It already hurts. But sometimes the pain is worth the memories.

I unpack my few items in the dresser next to the bed and put Cade's backpack in the closet, figuring he'll want to do his own unpacking.

With nothing left to do but sit and wait, I pull my eReader out of my bag and sprawl on the bed to read and distract myself from my own depressing thoughts.

The shower turns off and my mind strays to what he looks like right now, dripping with water, body hard and wet.

He walks out of the bathroom, clothed in nothing but a towel, and tells me how much he loves me, that I'm all he's ever wanted as he throws me onto the bed and—

"Winter?"

Face flushed, I look up. He's dressed, hair wet but combed, and I'm half way to an orgasm from just my imagination.

I rush into the bathroom. "Excuse me." I can't look him in the eyes yet since my emotions are written all over me.

I splash cold water over my face and brush my teeth.

Cade calls me from the room. "Where's my book bag?"

"Just a minute." My words are mumbled by toothpaste.

"Where is it?" He sounds frantic.

I rinse my mouth and the toothbrush and walk out of the bathroom. "I put it in the closet."

He pulls open the closet, reaches for his book bag and fishes around until he sees what he's looking for, then sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"What do you have in there?" Must be important to affect him like that.

Cade smiles at me, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Just all my worldly possessions."

I hate that he doesn't trust me. That he's keeping secrets from me. But I hate that I'm doing the same thing to him. That I have secrets I can't—or won't—share. That I'm not being totally honest with him about my feelings. Because what could hurt more than saying goodbye at the end of summer? Telling Cade I'm falling in love with him and hearing him say that he doesn't feel the same way.

And the truth is, I already miss him. Even though he's just a few feet from me, I feel our pending separation like a physical thing, and I know it will tear my heart out to say goodbye and that I'll miss him more than I've ever missed anyone.

I sit at the small desk by the window and stare out at the island. The clouds are dark, the air heavy. A storm's coming and it's getting cold.

That storm is already inside me. The Ice Queen. Cold and frozen. Keeping people out.

But for the first time, I want to let somebody in.





WINTER DEVEAUX

CHAPTER 20





BRAVING MILD WINDS and a chill in the air, Cade and I walk to the abbey from our hotel. The island of Mont Saint-Michel is a contradiction in itself—so remote it feels like it’s the edge of the world, and yet packed with tourists who are as fascinated by the history as we are.

My legs are stronger from my time in Paris, hiking and climbing and walking everywhere. I’m not winded as we make our way up the road.

Cade holds my hand as we walk, and that gesture reassures me that despite his bad mood, we’re still okay. In fact, his mood has improved now that we’re out sightseeing and he can regale me with his knowledge. "The monks built the abbey at the very top in order to get as close to the heavens as possible. The problem was, they didn't have enough even ground."

He’s looking at the abbey, but my eyes fall on him, the profile of his handsome face, his jaw line strong. "What'd they do?"

He points. "They built four giant crypts at the top of the mount for support."

I try to imagine the actual building of this place. "I can't believe they moved all that stone over the bay and up this hill."

"They didn't have a bridge at the time either.” Cade looks at me, his blue eyes sparkling with his excitement. “They had to ferry all the materials across.”

"How long did it take to finish?"

"It's never finished," he says. "They're rebuilding the causeway in a few years." He points up the hill. "Today's abbey is built on the remains of a Romanesque church, built on the remains of a Carolingian church." He turns me back toward the bay. "The walls are 15th century fortifications built to defend against cannons. They're low, rather than tall, to make for a smaller target, and they're connected by protected passages, so soldiers could get where they needed in safety. Even during the hundred year war between England and France, while the English took all of Normandy, they didn't take Mont Saint-Michel."