Read One Night in the Ice Storm for Free Online Page B

icepack made her
whole body even colder.
    He
looked down at her for a long moment, and she didn’t understand the look in his
eyes. Then he gestured with his hand. “Can you scoot up a minute?”
    She
did as he said, although she had no idea why he was asking.
    She
found out soon enough when he lowered himself to the couch beside her. Before
she knew what was going on, he’d rearranged them both so she was in his arms,
leaning back against his chest.
    It
was wrong. It was utterly wrong. She was so cold, though, and his body was
deliciously warm. She really liked how it felt to be held by him.
    They’d
sat that way for hours that one summer, talking, watching television, just
being together.
    He
was rearranging the blanket over them both, and the tension was so palpable
that Rachel thought she would drown in it. In an attempt to break it, she said
lightly, “This is just a sneaky way to share my blanket, since you’re too lazy
to get your own.”
    He
laughed, soft and low. She loved how it sounded and how it felt. “Guilty.”
    She
huddled against him and soon she stopped shivering.
    They
were both staring at the fire when David returned to their previous conversation.
“The things you call stubbornness in me are not really that. It’s
self-sufficiency. It’s important to me. And it’s a different thing.”
    “Why
is it so important to be self-sufficient?” It was a genuine question, since her
previous anger had almost entirely vanished.
    He
didn’t answer.
    She
turned her body slightly to look up at him. His face was just a few inches from
hers. “David?”
    “I
don’t know,” he admitted, sounding uncomfortable and not looking her in the
eye. “Just a way to prove myself, I guess.”
    “Prove
yourself what?”
    He
didn’t answer directly this time. Instead, he said in a different tone, “You
know how it was for my mom. This is a small town, and people are…judgmental.”
    “People
are judgmental in cities too. They’re just not in your face quite so much.” She
exhaled. “I know people judged your mom. My grandpa did, and he was…terrible
about it. But not everyone here did. And no one has ever judged you.”
    “Haven’t
they?”
    His
body felt tenser than it had been before. She knew he was feeling something
deeply, and her heart ached for him. “Who judged you? You were always popular
at school, and everyone in town thinks you walk on water now.”
    “I
had a long way to climb.” The words were soft, uninflected, not bitter, just resigned.
    “David,”
she said, feeling strangely urgent and emotional. She turned over so she was
facing him—and also practically lying on top of him. She wanted to see his face,
though. “Who judged you? What are you talking about? We never did. Me and Brad
and Mom. I swear we never did.”
    “I
know you didn’t.” His eyes were strange—somehow soft and urgent all at once.
    “We
all thought you were…we thought you were great.” Her voice wobbled at the end,
since the past tense was so crushing.
    She
would have still thought he was great—the best man she knew other than Brad—had
he not treated her so heartlessly eight years ago.
    She
still didn’t understand. It just didn’t seem to fit.
    “I
knew that. You have no idea what it meant to me.” His arms were still around
her, and one of them tightened deliciously. The other hand slid down her spine
until it pressed against the small of her back.
    It
felt like they were embracing, and Rachel wanted to feel it even more.
    Her
mind a befuddled tangle, she managed to recover the thread of their earlier
conversation.
    “So
if it’s so important for you to be self-sufficient, why do you call my self-sufficiency stubborn? Why can’t I be self-sufficient too?” Her voice got
strangely hoarse on the last words, and it wasn’t because she wanted to cry.
    He
lifted the hand that had been caressing her back and cupped her cheek with it
instead. “Because I’m here,” he murmured. “Because I’m