A few glowing embers from his cigarette drifted down,nding on the back of his hand. The sudden. sting made his hand flinch before he could stop himself.
He pulled his gaze away from the distance, staring instead at the angry red mark burned into his thin
skin.
It was obvious.
He couldn’t really feel the pain. He simply lifted the cigarette to his lips again, taking a few more drags with practiced numbness.
Only when it was spent did he crush the butt into the flowerbed at his feet.
“Seth.” Bianca finally spoke, calling his name.
By the time Seth stood up, his face was once again an unreadable maskposed, cold, detached.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rougher and deeper than usual–probably from all the cigarettes.
Bianca hesitated before answering, “Noreen messaged me. She said you were here and asked me toe pick you up.”
Seth didn’t look surprised.
Noreen really was an exemry ex–cutting all ties cleanly, never looking back, determined to keep her life free of any lingering connections.
“Let’s go,” was all Seth said.
Bianca had a thousand questions bottled up inside her.
Why had he gone to see Noreen? What had happened between them? And why had Noreen asked her, of all people, toe get him?
But every question stuck in her throat, tangled and impossible to voice.
Seth offered no exnation, and she swallowed her questions, jogging a few steps to catch up to him. “Next time, don’t drink so much,” she chided gently.
Seth grunted–a sound just barely qualifying as a reply.
He climbed into the car, shut his eyes and leaned back, his face nk, every line and angle of it shrouded in a cool indifference.
As Bianca turned the car around, her eyes caught a familiar vehicle parked in the lot across the
street.
Her brow furrowed in confusion.
Why was Dn’s car here?
That night, Noreen hardly slept at all. She tossed and turned for hours, and when she finally dozed
<b>19:06 </b>
off, the dreams came.
She didn’t dream of the early, grueling days of building a business with Seth–those days when they had nothing but each other to lean on.
Instead, her mind wandered back to that winter trip up north, when they’d gotten stranded in a snowstorm together.
Had Seth ever truly cared for her then?
The blizzard had swept in without warning, and their car died on a mountain road. No cell signal, the dead of night, no hope of rescue. All they could do was wait for morning and figure out a way to
survive.
Northern winters were brutal. Both of them were southerners,pletely unprepared for such bone–deep cold.
Seth had kept her wrapped in his arms the whole night, trying to shield her from the worst of it, sharing every scrap of warmth he could muster.
But human warmth was a sad defense against a northern winter–barely a drop in the ocean.
As Noreen started to drift into a dangerous stupor, her body going numb, Seth rummaged through the car and miraculously found a lighter.
Again and again, he flicked the me to heat his own palms until they were nearly scalding, then pressed his hands to the warmest parts of her body–her neck, underarms, groin–anywhere that might help keep her alive.
She didn’t know if his desperate efforts had really helped, but eventually, Noreen stirred, instinctively clinging to his burning hot hands. “So warm,” she murmured.
As soon as her body cooled again, he would pull away, scorch his palms once more, and return to
warm her.
Noreen never knew any of this at the time.
She only learned the truth after they were rescued, when the doctors examined them both and discovered Seth’s hands covered in blisters from the burns.
“If he hadn’t done what he did, things could have turned out much worse,” the doctor told her.
Noreen had cradled Seth’s burned hands in her own, her chest heavy and aching, as if someone had filled her heart with saltwater.
Back then, she’d made a silent vow to herself: she would always take care of Seth, no matter what.
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