Page 107 of Snake
“Can I come up?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Following Autumn’s directions, Cox went up two sets of wide marble stairs and turned left at the top. Outside it was obvious that this building had once been a school—it had the boxy, pseudo-stately, red-brick look of an old high school—but inside, it was more like some grand manor in the English countryside. Yet the stone stairways and corridors were still as wide and utilitarian as a school’s.
The heels of his boots clicked as he walked down the second-story corridor, past tall, broad, beveled doors that were decidedly not original. Each one bore a simple brass numeral.
Toward the end of the corridor, a slant of light showed an open door. As he approached, a shadow filled that wedge, and Autumn stepped into view. She wore snug black pants and a loose white top. Her hair was in a ponytail. Her feet were bare. She was so fucking beautiful.
All at once, Cox’s chest tightened like it was being crushed in a vise. Never in his life had the mere sight of another person made him feel like this. Anxiety and excitement and regret and hope turned his blood to a froth. He felt fucking dizzy.
She looked so damn small, framed in that oversized doorway. Overwhelmed, Cox pulled up short. When he stopped, she seemed to shrink more. Her arms crossed her chest, the gesture more protective than judgmental.
She didn’t trust him. Of course she didn’t; he’d thrown her trust in her face.
For a moment, hope flickered, and regret became a weight around his ankles. It was too late; he hadn’t understood what he’d had while he had it, and now it was too late.
Ain’t no such thing as too late, Abigail had told him. There’s only what you decide to do, and what you decide to don’t.
That little bit of wisdom had pushed him almost four hundred miles east, to this moment.
He knew why he was here. He knew what he wanted.
He’d gone over and through every doubt, every second thought, every list of pros and cons well before he’d decided to act, and repeated the whole litany on a loop during the long ride east. By the time he’d reached Indiana, he was finished quibbling.
It did not fucking matter that he’d thought he never wanted anyone in his life this way. It did not fucking matter that he’d thought he was better off alone. It did not fucking matter that he’d always believed he needed no one and could count on no one.
None of that fucking mattered because none if it was fucking true.
Cox couldn’t begin to guess why it took Abigail Freeman, someone so far out on the outskirts of his life he practically needed a map to come face to face with her, to see a truth about him he’d been blind to all his life. But she’d seen it and made him look: he’d built himself a nice, sturdy prison. He’d lived just as dead a life as his mother had since they’d buried Billy; his version of that death had merely been a little more animated. She’d been a ghost; he’d been a zombie.
It had taken the insight of one sweet, odd woman from the hills, and the final end of his mother’s decades-long dying for him to see that he actually wanted to live.
No, it had taken one more thing: the love of a good woman.
He knew what he wanted. He knew why he was here.
He wanted Autumn. He was here to tell her that.
Now he needed to know if she still wanted him.
So he got his boots moving again.
She stood perfectly still, watching him come to her. As he approached, his heart revving with nerves and hope, an emotional blend with which he was wildly unfamiliar, Cox tried to form the right thing to say. What incantation could he conjure to take the worry from her brow and replace it with relief or even happiness?
There was no magic spell, and Cox was no man of words. When he reached her, there was only one thing in his head.
Her arms still hugging her chest, Autumn looked up at him. Her eyes shifted back and forth, searching his eyes for understanding.
Without the words to ask, Cox sought her consent instead with his actions. His eyes fixed on hers, he cupped her cheeks in his hands, slowly, with intent but without force. When his palms touched her velvet skin, she twitched lightly and her breath caught, but she didn’t move from his touch.
Her lips had parted slightly with that sharp intake of breath.
Cox lowered his head. Autumn did not pull away.
When his lips met hers, she released a soft, whimpering sigh into his mouth. When he dropped his hands from her face to send his arms around her, her back softened into his hold. When he drew her firmly to his body, her arms unwound from their self-protected clench and slipped around his waist.
She was hugging him back. Kissing him back.
