Page 88 of The Snowflake Effect

Smirking, he studies her breasts another minute. “I’m sure it does. Anyway, see you around.”

What a total dick.

But that wasn’t some simple run-in with an ex, one of those blips where women flaunt how good they look and how awesome they’re doing since moving on. That was Richard reinforcing the very things that plague Shay.

Me, controlling her life. Me, influencing her career.

Her not making it on her own.

“You know he’s wrong, right?” I say, trying to catch her eye. If she overthinks this interaction, it’ll be more reason for her to stay in Toronto. End things with us. “You know he’s full of crap.”

“Yeah, I know.” But there’s no conviction in her words. Then more forcefully, “I know, Kolton. I know why you hired me.”

“Also, I fucking hate that guy.”

She laughs, but the sound is strained. “You and me both.”

She resumes eating the cake. I force in a few bites. We talk, but the topics of Richard and moving out West are avoided. When Shay gets quiet while shredding a sugar packet, I signal the waiter for our check.

We hardly talk on the ride home. Her continued silence when we crawl into bed joins the unease accumulating between us. Still, she curls her body around mine and drags her hands through my hair, and I’m on her in seconds, pressing my fingers into her skin while I suck a path down her neck and over her heart.

Her legs fall wide, and I touch her and tease her, feeling anything but numb and foggy now. I’m almost shaking with my need for her. Overwhelmed with too much emotion, different than in the past. Like I know we’re ending soon, and these are my last nights with her.

I rock my hand, and she grips my length, her hazel eyes brewing with all we aren’t saying. Then I’m pushing into her and pumping faster and kissing her so hard my lips feel bruised. I say her name a thousand times as tension travels up my thighs and expands against my ribs. This isn’t sex. This is possession. I can’t control my need to move fast and deep, to obliterate anything but us, here in this bed. I thrust and bite and groan.

She matches my movements, clawing at my back. Rougher and needier, until we fall apart together, my face buried in her neck, all that hair of hers gripped in my fists.

CHAPTER 38

SHAY

Moondog’s Toronto grand opening is in full swing, celebratory sounds drifting from the shop. I should be ecstatic. Flying. On a high to rival my Whistler Cup win.

But I’m not.

Kolton is in there somewhere, schmoozing, smiling for the cameras, and I’ve let three groups of people pass me on the sidewalk while I stare at the door.

“Excuse me.” Another shoulder brushes mine, and I barely budge.

Why can’t I go in and celebrate? Why can’t I share this accomplishment with him?

“Shay!” Lily runs along the sidewalk, Kevin behind her.

Her hair blows off her bare shoulders, the blues and purples of her strapless summer dress bold against her pale skin, her long beaded necklaces accenting her bohemian style. She flings her arms around me. “I’m so excited. I can’t believe you did this. And thank you for suggesting I help with the opening. It was a blast. I ended up organizing the band and helped with flowers. I hope you love it! Is Kolton inside? Is Raven here? Oh, shoot.” She twists around, her hands still on my shoulders. “Kev, did you grab my purse from the car?”

He smiles and lifts her recent creation, but his features are tight. Normally, we joke that Kevin could still get carded at twenty-five, his smooth cheeks and small frame more boy than man. I doubt the guy has ever shaved. But here, in the lamp-lit night, he looks drawn.

His soft brown hair is still neat, but dark, puffy skin cradles his eyes. Tonight, he looks like a man holding onto the last of his strength.

I wonder if I look the same.

He nods to me. “You should be proud. You’ve done an awesome job, from what I’ve heard. Are your folks here?”

“Thanks, and no. Dad had a last-minute job come through at Dwyer’s farm. An emergency build after a storm blew through his barn. He couldn’t pass it up.”

Lily steps back, the three of us forming a circle and shaking our heads, teenage memories transporting us through time. Gord Dwyer has put off fixing that barn ever since Raven nearly burned it to the ground during her punk stage, a night of dares and drinking gone awry. She had to muck stalls for two months as penance.

Kevin chuckles. “We should send Raven to christen it.”