Read Online Coming in from the Cold by Sarina Bowen - Free Book Online Page B

fire, showing Dane how to use pine needles for tinder and demonstrating the importance of sufficient kindling.
    Now Finn couldn’t even get out of bed.
    Dane tapped his fingers in time to the sounds of The Clash coming from his speakers and stretched back against the headrest. Alone, the Jeep humming along the road, he felt in control again. His body felt loose, with the telltale languor that was the result of intense sexual gratification. He could still feel the damp of Willow’s body on him and a mild chafing where she’d stroked him.
    His mind lingered on the feel of her hands on his stiff shoulder, the way she’d massaged him into complete arousal.
    Christ. He was horny again.
    He turned up the stereo volume and steered his thoughts to the busy days ahead.
    * * *
    When he pulled into the nursing home parking lot, it was one o’clock.
    He stepped out of the Jeep, stretching his frame in the sunlight. The day after a blizzard nearly always featured this kind of perfect cloudless blue sky. Even with his shades on, it was hard to take. Nowhere on earth was Dane more aware of his own fragile mortality than on this particular property, where inside the building people lay bent and broken in a hundred different ways.
    He’d learned on past trips that the fickle Gods of rural cell phone coverage smiled on this parking lot, and so Dane delayed the inevitable by calling Coach.
    “Where are you?” Coach said quickly, always wary of Dane’s disinclination to show up for flights on time.
    “I’m going to be a day late,” Dane said quickly. No point in beating around the bush. “Sorry, Coach. I’ll catch a night flight, and be there in time for course inspection.”
    “Aw, kid. They’re going to shoot me on sight,” Coach complained, “when I turn up with more excuses for you.”
    “So take a later flight yourself. Or tell Coach Harvey to go fuck himself. Seriously.”
    “Where are you?”
    “I just pulled into the nursing home. I’ll be a couple of hours here, then I’ll shoot down to Boston. I got the Jeep stuck last night and couldn’t get dug out until midmorning. Honestly. Show Harvey a fucking newspaper. We got two feet, and Logan was shut down for a few hours. I heard it on the radio. I’ll be there on time, and I’ll ski fast. And then he can kiss both of our asses.”
    Coach sighed into the phone, and it sounded like a hurricane gale. “See that you do.”
    “Have a beer on me, Coach. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “I have
too many
beers because of you, kid. If you would just
explain
to Harvey that you’re having a family emergency….”
    “No can do,” he said. “But how about I just win the race, instead?”
    “See you over there,” Coach sighed. And then he hung up.
    * * *
    Dane tucked his phone away and walked into the home. He was greeted by the nauseating smell of floor polish mixed with antiseptic, and the glare of fluorescent lighting.
    “Hello, Mr. Hollister,” the receptionist called. “I have a letter for you from Dr. Brown.” She held out an envelope.
    That was not a good sign.
    “Thank-you,” he said, taking it. He gave her a salute and strode past, down the hall and to his brother’s door. Pausing outside, he slid his finger under the flap and opened the envelope. The letter was just as discouraging as he assumed it would be.
Dear Mr. Hollister…still trying to get his infection under control. New antibiotics…haven’t given up hope…
    Dane shoved the letter into his pocket and steeled himself before pressing the door open. His first view of Finn was always a shock, and he’d learned to smile as a cover.
    When he walked in, his brother’s eyes flicked up to his from an unbelievably emaciated face. “Hey!” Dane said, taking three long steps toward the wheelchair, keeping eye contact like a champ. Even though Finn’s chin sagged toward his chest, his brother’s face contracted with a tic of recognition.
    Or, maybe it was just a tic.
    Dane couldn’t be sure. The