“Just go.” I said
“Don’t ever show your face in front of me again. Every time you do, all I can think about is those disgusting thi
I walked around the counter, went to the door, and pulled it open.
Wind and snow rushed inside, making my whole body go cold.
“Get out.”
Evan went rigid.
He stared at me, as if he were still trying to find even the smallest trace of softness on my face.
There was none.
There was nothing there at all.
The light in his eyes went out completely.
Slowly, he straightened and walked out of the flower shop one step at a time.
But Evan did not leave.
He rented a place across from my shop.
Every morning, by the time I opened the door, the snow in front of the shop had already been cleared away
There was always a hot breakfast sitting outside the entrance
I never ate it.
I threw it straight into the tr@sh.
He never said anything
He only watched me from across the street
On days when the snow came down hard he would stand out there in it for hours
Sometimes he stayed there all day
I called the police once
When they questioned him he only pulled out our photos and said he was pursuing me
Chapter 9
There was nothing the police could really do except tell him not to come too close.
And he really didn’t.
He just kept his distance, about thirty feet away.
He grew thinner and thinner, and he coughed violently all the time.
One day, he coughed up blood, staining the snow red.
I saw it through
dow, but I didn’t go outside.
If he wan
kind of self–sacrificing act just to move himself, that was his business.
he fourth year.
usually brutal.
eared for three days.
cleared the snow outside my shop.
breakfast appeared by the door.
I didn’t pay it much attention.
On the morning of the fourth
ocal hospital.
“Miss Yates, Mr. Holt ha
The voice on the
“He left a
te sheet.
you come.”
face was gray with death.
in life was gone.
sic desperation that had clung to him at the end
StoRea!
90.00%
He had died of late–stage stomach cancer.
The doctor told me he had dragged it out too long. He had been diagnosed over a year earlier, but he refused tre
and refused medication.
He had died in agony.
A lawyer stood nearby and handed me a document envelope.
“Miss Yates, Ma
left this for you.”
I ope
transfer agreement.
is shares in Holt Group, every piece of real estate in his name, and even instructions designating
ndle his ashes.
ottom of the envelope was a letter.
front read: For Tessa, personally.
didn’t open it.
I looked at the man lying there.
Once, I had loved him with r
At a time when I tho
umbrella.
He had be
But
anyone again, he had been the one to stand in front of me with an
ear he would never betray me.
withstand fate, or his so–called illness.
pers and told the lawyer to liquidate all the assets and donate the money to the
ng with the authorization papers for handling his ashes, into the morgue tr@sh can
ter said.
ntance or love, it had nothing to do with me anymore.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
