Read Online A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1) by Hallie Swanson - Free Book Online Page B

own surgery in Cambridge. I’ll take Hooper with me and take a drive to Cambridge first thing in the morning. Let’s say we worry about the cost later.”
    “Why, what’s wrong with him?”
    “I can’t be sure,” he said with a reassuring look on his face.
    But I know him well enough to know that he’s worried.
    He clears his throat. “I think he’ll need scans, probably blood tests, and I’m not qualified enough to do either.”
    I lift my chin and force a smile.
    “Anyway, Darc, best get off,” he said, turning towards the kitchen door, but it’s not him I’m looking at; it’s that wiry white tail that usually stands proud and wags vigorously, but is now hanging down between his stumpy back legs.
    I swallow hard, gulping back the tears.
    “Fancy a cuppa?” I call after him, anything to stall him, just to have a few minutes more with Hooper.
    “No, you’re alright; anyway, you’ve got company.” I pick up on the disapproval in his voice.
    “It’s not like that.”
    “I’ve got a mountain of stuff to do,” he says, not looking me in the eyes. “I’ll ring you when there’s any news.”
    I can’t follow him to the front door, and I certainly can’t watch Hooper’s face through the side window as he’s driven away. I stand far enough from the kitchen door that I can’t see him leave, then lean over and rest my elbows on the work surface. My body stiffens as I hear the door click shut behind them.
    “Goodbye, Hooper…”
    Walking towards the lounge, my throat feels so dry it’s almost like I’ve swallowed gravel. I see Chase from the corner of my eye, but don’t look at him. I lower myself onto the settee, as far from him as I can possibly get, then rest my head back against the loose cushion behind. I hear the springs of the settee and Chase’s voice.
    “Are you okay?”
    Those three little words; such bad timing.
    “No,” I gasp between growing sobs.
    These tears won’t be blinked away, and they gush down my cheek and off the end of my nose as I bury my head into the side cushion. I freeze upon feeling fingers walking around my shoulders and a heavy arm pulling me up from the cushion. I feel his chest as my head slips beneath his chin. My body moves in time with the breaths that he takes; I can hear the melodic beat of his heart beneath the blue shirt he wears. I tilt my head up and in response feel his chin lower. His fingers brush my tear-matted hair off my face, leaving nothing to keep our eyes apart. It’s like there is a pause between us; he opens his mouth to speak, but as I look at his lips it seems he thinks better of it and keeps his silence. The awkwardness I felt only seconds ago drains from me, the warmth of his body, the strength of his arm a much-needed comfort. I haven’t been held in so long, not like this. I press myself into his chest, and as my sobbing subsides I close my eyes and relax, curling my arm around Chase’s waist. I feel a slight tilt to my body, and both his arms link around me. His hands are taken, so it can only be his lips that I feel brushing against the top of my head. His hands, his fingers don’t wander, he makes no suggestion that he wants this to be more; it is mere kindness he offers, with no hidden agenda.
    “What say I make us a strong brew, and then maybe you can tell me what’s wrong?”
    His hold around me tightens and then his arms are gone.

 
    “C hase,” I hiss between clenched teeth; it’s been a week and a half, and still my call goes straight to voicemail. “Why don’t you answer your fucking phone?” I yell down the mouthpiece of my mobile.
    Fidgeting in the dark upholstered seat of the taxi, I glance up and catch the driver’s eye, staring at me through the rear-view mirror.
    “Sorry, mate, troubles with staff, an occupational hazard.” My mouth twists into a grin.
    The corners of the driver’s eyes crease, so I assume he is smiling back.
    I gaze out into darkness, picturing the lush Devonshire