Snowflakes & Fire Escapes Read Online Free

instead of my hard fought seventeen and nine-tenths. That look makes me feel like this girl, the one I’m not, the one he needs me to be … the one I’ve tried to be.
    The one I just can’t be.
    I take a sip of the Guinness before holding it out to him. He hesitates, staring at it, before taking it from my hand. I’m surprised when he actually brings the bottle to his lips and takes a drink, knowing damn well he has as much business drinking right now as I do.
    He grimaces, making a disgusted face as he swallows, but he doesn’t put the beer down. He doesn’t hand it back, either. Instead, he clutches the bottle with both hands between his legs as he stares at me.
    He doesn’t ask how I acquired the beer.
    I’m glad, because then I’d feel inclined to admit I stole it, and I’m not in the mood for one of his ‘there are certain things you just can’t do ’ lectures.
    “Gracie, Gracie, Gracie …” His voice is quiet. “Talk to me.”
    I look away from him, unsure of what to say. His gaze is so intense that it’s like being under an interrogation light. I practically feel myself start to sweat again. “The air conditioner is broken.”
    “Huh,” he says. “I thought it felt hot in here.”
    “I came home tonight and it wasn’t working. I tried turning it off and back on again, but it didn’t work. I didn’t know what else to do.”
    “Why didn’t you call me?”
    “Because I’d already called you about the car,” I say. “I can’t just call you every single time something goes wrong in my life. We’d never get off the phone if that was the case.”
    He laughs, but there isn’t much humor to the sound. “That’s what I’m here for.”
    Holden forces down the rest of the beer—I think simply to keep me from drinking it—before he stands up and starts gathering the empty bottles. He heads to the kitchen to throw them away. I wonder if he ever gets sick of cleaning up other people’s messes. That’s all the man ever seems to do. I hear him looking around the sparse cabinets, see the light as he investigates the refrigerator. He returns after a minute, sitting back down in front of me.
    “You have nothing to eat here.”
    “I’m not really hungry.”
    “But you have to eat sometime.”
    I shrug.
    “I’ll see about getting you a new car … a better car,” he says. “In the meantime, we’ll work on making some repairs around this place, and we’ll restock the kitchen, because I can’t have you starving on me here. Sound good?”
    “Sure,” I say. “Whatever.”
    My response isn’t what he wants to hear. He sighs loudly, nudging my leg with his knee to try to get my attention. Humoring him, I glance his way, knowing he won’t drop this until I do.
    His expression is serious. “I’m worried about you, Gracie. Talk to me. Please. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
    “I just … I feel like I’m suffocating.”
    “I promise we’re going to get the air going again in here.”
    “No, I mean …” I hesitate, unsure of how to explain it, wondering if it’ll even make a difference. Probably not . My opinion meant nothing growing up and it somehow means even less now. “I feel like I’m losing myself. Like really losing what makes me me . This house … this town … this life … it’s not who I am.”
    “Tell me what will help,” he says. “What will make you happy?”
    “Snow.”
    The word is involuntary as it slips from my lips.
    Holden laughs, a hint of genuine amusement this time. He thinks I’m being sarcastic. He doesn’t understand. He can’t . “Well, I’ll have you know, it actually snows in this part of Arizona. You just haven’t lived here long enough to see it.”
    “But it’s not just snow. It’s all of it. It’s cold mornings and hot coffee. It’s bright lights and loud neighbors and sitting on a fire escape and taking in all of the commotion. It’s makeup and dress shoes and nice clothes and a reason to wear all of it. It’s my life. Mine.