Abbie blinked over at her. “Er … don’t worry, Grandma. We got a ton of cornflour when you sent us to—”
“No! Gravy!” Ms Tricia dropped the gift set and rushed down the hall, sweeping past them both. “I just saw her through the window! She’s out in the blizzard! At the edge of the woods! How did she get out? William, get some clothes on. Jason!” she hollered as she all but sprinted down the stairs. “Jason, Gravy has escaped!”
Will stared after her. “Shit.”
Then Abbie said, clearly confused, “The blizzard?”
Eight
Yes, as it turned out: the blizzard.
Will threw on some clothes and came downstairs in time to meet Jase at the door. He looked like someone had dumped icing sugar over his head, then stuck him in a freezer. Icy winds howled through the open door behind him, and Will squinted out in shock at the snowstorm that had, apparently, popped into existence while he was busy wondering if Abbie preferred men who shaved their chests. (He was glad he’d left the situation alone, after her stare-a-thon out in the hallway.)
“I couldn’t see her,” Jase said as he slammed the door shut.
“What?” Ms Tricia squawked. “That creature is pregnant as hell. I don’t know what she thinks she’s doing, going out in this!”
“Don’t worry, Grandma.” Abbie rubbed soothing circles over Ms Tricia’s back. “We’ll find her. We’ll all go out and search.”
“Good. Let’s split into pairs and look for her.”
Jase and Abbie exchanged significant glances. “Erm,” Jase said, “maybe you could wait here in case she comes back?”
Ms Tricia speared him with a glare. “Shut up, boy. Fetch my boots. You can pair with me.”
Which is how Will found himself out in the blizzard he’d barely believed in, standing on the edge of the woods that bordered the south of Ms Tricia’s property, holding hands with Abbie Farrell. They both wore thick gloves, but he imagined he could feel her warmth anyway. She held him tight, so tight it reminded him of last night’s hazy, confusing bliss, when her touch and her voice had been the things keeping him steady. Of course, she was only touching him now because her glasses were a snowy mess, and without his guidance, she might fall into a well. But still.
“Grandma said she likes bushes,” Abbie shouted over the wind. “Let’s start over there.” With her free hand, she pointed at a thick, evergreen bramble patch amongst the trees.
“Er, yeah,” Will replied, nodding as they started to trek over. The bobbles dangling from his hat smacked him in the cheeks. Head in the game. He needed to talk to Abbie, desperately, but right now probably wasn’t the best time. If they didn’t find Gravy—
“I need to tell you something,” Abbie said, jolting him out of his thoughts. He squinted at her through the swirl of snow, but she was looking straight ahead: all he saw was the thick, snowflake-dotted mass of her hair, the dark frames of her glasses, and the hard line of her jaw. That jaw could mean she was nervous, but it could also mean she was concentrating on not falling on her arse.
“Yeah?” he nudged.
“Yeah. It’s about us.”
Us. Such a little word, but it set off an enormous fucking disco in Will’s body. Complete with flashing lights to match the frantic pulse of his hopeful thoughts and pounding music to match his pounding heart.
“I was nervous about saying it,” she continued, “but having this conversation outside in a blizzard while we’re focused on finding a pregnant cat is really taking the pressure off, so…”
He laughed and swallowed a lungful of ice. “Fair enough. But—” He didn’t know, actually, if this was the right time for a “but.” Had no idea if she was going to shut him down again or if she was going to say something different, something he really didn’t dare to imagine after his numerous spectacular failures over the last two days. If she was going to shut him down, waving his love all over the place might hit her like the equivalent of a cat dragging home a dead mouse. But if she was going to say something different…
They reached the patch of brambles and spoke at the same time. “You should know—” Will said.
But it was hard to remember the rest of his sentence when he realised what Abbie had said. Which was: “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”
* * *
The thing about blurting out mortifying truths in the middle of a blizzard was that you could almost pretend the wind had whipped away your words and no one would ever know you’d said them.
Almost.
That’s what Abbie did, anyway, in the aftermath. She could feel Will’s all-seeing gaze burning the side of her face with typical intensity, but there was enough snow between them to cool her fevered skin as soon as his eyes touched it, so that was easier than usual to handle. She set the most difficult of her words free, then bent down to examine the brambles and thanked whatever god was listening for this precise series of events—because she had a sneaking suspicion that, in any other circumstance, she’d have spent a solid twenty minutes working up to that confession.
She was starting to think Will might take a solid twenty minutes figuring out how to reply.
His silence was … significant. The fact that he’d let go of her hand when she’d dropped down to search the brambles was also significant—even though it was exactly what Abbie had hoped he’d do. Any connection between them, even one so minimal, felt electric and important and far too much. She was working hard at this emotional honesty thing, but she wasn’t about to completely overwhelm herself.
She also wasn’t about to take back what she’d said. Or stop talking, now she’d finally started.
“It’s been a long and weird experience,” she said as she parted various spiky branches. “I thought it was just a crush, and then I kind of realised it wasn’t, but I really wanted it to be a crush because that was way less complicated, so I convinced myself it was. And then I just stayed there, mentally, for years and years because I was a stupid teenager and you were my best friend and avoiding my feelings seemed a lot safer than doing something about it and not knowing what might happen. It was all too high-stakes, I think. Then life happened and suddenly we were in completely different places and stages and—and it didn’t matter anymore. I mean, I thought it didn’t matter anymore. But… You’ve always mattered too much to me. You scare me. I’m not—”
Will fell to his knees beside her so suddenly, she was worried he’d actually collapsed. Then two things happened at once: the first was that his gloved, snow-damp hand cupped her face and he said with a voice like the storm around them, “Abbie.”