Page 81 of Snowed In with Benefits

“Opened the wrong door. The one between the kitchen, where the gas had built up, and the bedroom, where the fire was spreading.” Emmett’s gaze is unfocused as he loses himself in the memory, his gray eyes shining silver. “There was an explosion. He didn’t survive.”

“He was eighteen,” Beau murmurs. He shakes his head, his jaw tight. Then he glances over at me before pushing his sleeve up. He clears his throat, tracing the tree of life tattoo on his forearm with two fingers—the one I asked about in the bath that day, right before he shut down. “I got this for him. The script inside says his name.”

I lean a little closer, biting my lip as I examine the inked design on his skin. I couldn’t make out the word before, but now that he’s told me, I can see the swooping letters set inside the tree.

“That’s beautiful,” I whisper. “It’s a beautiful tribute.”

“Yeah.” He drags in a breath. “It’s not enough. Nothing could ever be enough. But… it’s something. So I’ll never forget.”

The fire in the fireplace pops, and all four of us start a little, as if the sound has broken into some sacred space. Nobody speaks again for a long moment as the bottle goes around once more, each of them taking long pulls. I hold the whiskey when it comes to me but I don’t drink. I just hold it, because my hands need something to do and I don’t trust myself to swallow right now, my throat is so tight.

Emmett’s eyes flutter closed then squeeze shut, a single tear trickling down his cheek. I’m not thinking, just feeling, and what I’m feeling is too heavy to hold on my own. I set the whiskey aside and then lean over and take Emmett’s face in my hands, resting my forehead against his. He lets me, leaning into me just a little bit. I kiss him, gently, softly. Just enough to let him know I’m here. Just enough to chase away the ghosts and bring him back into the present. He breathes a shuddering sigh and I release him.

I turn and see Beau looking at me with those haunted eyes. I take his face in my hands and kiss him the same way, just enough to let him know I’m here, to bring him back to the here and now. He kisses me back, just enough to tell me that he knows where he is.

Then I kiss Hunter. Hunter’s face is wet and I don’t question it. I kiss him softly, anchoring him to me, to now, to this moment under the tree. There’s nothing that I can say that will make this any better. There are no words that will make it easier. But if I can at least keep them from drowning in their own memories, that will be enough.

“Josie.” Emmett’s voice is still rough with emotion. I go to him and he kisses me, purposefully, deliberately. “Josie,” he says again, and this time his voice is closer to a growl.

I kiss him back, matching his energy, which has gone from tender to heated in the span of a breath. Beau comes close to me, putting his hands on me like he’s trying to find a lifesaver in the ocean. His mouth comes to my shoulder, lips and teeth. Hunter curls into my other side, his hands on me, his mouth at my ear.

“Josie,” Hunter whispers.

Beau makes a sound in his throat that isn’t a word or a moan, but something that lives in the gray area in between. It’s the sound of a man resurfacing and finding a reason to keep his head above water. My body is responding and I don’t know if it’s appropriate. They were just deep in a moment of mourning, but now their hands are on me and their mouths and the whiskey is lighting a fire inside me and I don’t know if this is what they need or if it’s what I want, and I’m not sure there’s much of a difference between the two things.

Emmett breaks the kiss and looks me in the face. His eyes are sharp and gray again, not the silvery shine of his haunted past.

“We’re not doing this on the couch.”

He picks me up and flips me over his shoulder. I yelp, half-laughing as he takes me to the stairs. The other two follow, Hunter with a watery grin, Beau looking half-lost and half-desperate.

There’s something to be said for anchoring to the here and now.

31

BEAU

Hunter’s cooking breakfast. He’s saying something to Josie that makes her laugh. Damn, she has a great laugh. There’s a Christmas tree in the living room. She put it there. It doesn’t matter that we did the lifting, she’s the one that made it happen. Her eyes glisten like caramel in the morning light. She made cookies. It doesn’t matter if Hunter did the mixing, she’s the one who made it happen.

Emmett grunts. He’s sitting at the head of the table, where he always sits, drinking coffee the way he does every morning. Sitting. Watching. Taking the world in with the fewest words possible. She’s sitting next to him, beaming at his grunt like he just said a magic word. She’s got a great smile. It’s enough to light a person up from the inside.

She flips her hair over her shoulder and for a second she looks like the heroine on a book cover. Or rather, what I imagine the heroine would look like if they weren’t drawn or photoshopped or whatever. Not the heroine of a romance novel. Maybe a sci-fi novel. Or an epic adventure. Something worth her time and energy. Not that romance isn’t worth her time. We certainly made it worth her time last night.

She’s wearing another one of Hunter’s t-shirts. My sweats. Emmett’s overshirt. Our clothes look damn good on her, but sometimes I wonder what she’d look like if she picked out her own clothes for her own comfort. Not that asshole she was engaged to, not a mother or mother-in-law or sister or whoever else gets in her head, but just for her. I wonder what she’d choose.

She stands up, saying something about something. I’m not really listening. I’m watching her lips form the words. Watching the light in her eyes change as she moves around the room. Watching the way our clothes hang on her body, soft around her curves, heavy at the bottom. She’s a lot shorter than we are and it shows in the clothes. My eyes follow her as she leaves the room.

“Beau,” Hunter says.

“Mm?”

“Finally! I’ve said your name like four times. Maybe now that she’s out of the room, you’ll actually be able to pay attention to something other than her?”

I snort and punch Hunter on the arm, dismissing his words. The only problem is, I know he’s not wrong. I get distracted when she’s around. Rather, she distracts me. I wasn’t being cute yesterday when I sent her out of the room. I really can’t focus on much of anything but her when she’s around. It’s like I’m obsessed with her or something. I’ve never felt this way about any other woman. I’ve never been drawn to a woman the way I’ve been drawn to her.

She comes back into the room with her camera and it’s like every part of my brain that isn’t focused on her just shuts off. I shake my head and grab two plates of food from Hunter. I slide one to her and sit down with my own.

“Gee, thanks,” Emmett grumbles.