Found in the Cold Ch. 01

Disclaimer:

All characters depicted in this story are over the age of eighteen. This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only and contains consensual adult content. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

------

Chapter One

------

Part One

------

Boston was cold and crowded--just like every other time I'd been there. I didn't expect a life-changing moment. But then she stepped back into my life, and nothing was ever the same again.

Her name was Katie McAlister. She'd been my twin sister Jesse's best friend in high school, and the first girl I ever kissed. For her it was nothing, but for me it was so much more.

That was the moment I fell in love with her. Or what I thought was love. I was an awkward teenage boy who knew nothing of the world. For years, I quietly burned in the fire of that kiss. She, on the other hand, started dating Billy Jameson--the golden-haired pitcher every girl wanted--the very next week.

I knew, even then, she hadn't meant to hurt me. But she did. It was like she was saying I was nice to have around, but I'd never be enough. I'd never be Billy.

He was six-five, and I was five-six. He was athletic with wavy blonde hair, and I was a twitchy skeletal kid with greasy dark hair and a pizza face. Billy didn't worry about acne. He'd gotten an athletic scholarship to UCLA, and I got an academic one to Carnegie Mellon for computer programming.

He was a god in our school and had a reputation for banging every cheerleader on the squad. I was happy to make it out of high school with that kiss.

She and Jesse left for college at the same time I did, but instead of going to Pennsylvania, they went further north to NYU. Performing scholarships. Not as inclusive as mine or Billy's, but they were able to work part-time and make it work. For a year and a half, I got to hear about how amazing their lives were, then came the accident.

Katie had been driving. They were coming home from a party one night when a delivery truck driver, on his sixth night of overtime, blew through a red light. Katie stayed in the hospital for three months, and Jesse didn't make it through the night.

Katie's coma lasted for over a week. The last thing she said she remembered was getting in the car, then nothing. That's the last I heard about her.

Until a freezing day outside of an expensive hotel in Boston.

I lived in our hometown of Ironwood, Tennessee, but as a freelance consultant on IT issues, I traveled around the country helping when I couldn't take care of the issue remotely. I also did a tour in the winter to all my top-tier clients.

Not for anything other than a once-a-year face-to-face that would be seen as good PR. At least that's what the TED talk said. So, that's what I'd been doing for the last five years.

Every October, I made appointments and created a travel itinerary to go from November to the end of January. I would go in, upgrade the system I could've done from home, then go out to dinner with my clients, maybe join them for a holiday party.

I would've skipped both if I could. I was never great in social situations. Jesse had been the one who made sure I didn't look too much like a dork... or a geek... or a nerd... or whatever else people called me. Katie helped too, hence the kiss, but it had been me and Jesse since day one.

I think that's why I did what I did for Katie... for Jesse. Who knew it would've turned out the way it did... I know I didn't. Hell, at some points in our journey, I even actively resisted her, but she left me no choice.

I'm glad she didn't.

As I said, I saw her again outside of my hotel. I'd just gotten into town and had to suffer through a chatty taxi driver before he dropped me off at my destination.

"You need a real coat. That L. A. arctic stuff won't stand up to a nor'easter. We've got real weather up here. Supposed to be below freezing for the next week. When'd you say you were leaving?"

"I'm here until Saturday."

"Three days?! Brother, you need more than three days to experience Boston. But tell you what, since I like you so much, here's my card," he said, pushing his card through the little slot in the window between the seats.

"You call me, and I'll take you to see my cousin. He runs a clothing store. It's not much, but it's got two floors of quality, and cheap clothes. Top names, too, just don't ask him where he got them." He laughed as he slapped the steering wheel like he'd made a joke. I didn't get it.

"Okay. Are we almost there?"

"Oh yeah, right here," he said, coming to a stop. "Looks like they're unloading a tour bus up there. Might be a minute. You want to wait or get out here?"

It was about fifty yards, and I really wanted out of the vehicle.

"Here's fine."

I slipped two twenties through the hole before I noticed the fare was eighteen-fifty. He lit up and jumped out, helping me with the bags in the back.

"You call me, alright? Hell, you can call me the whole time you're here," he said with a grin.

I gave him a small smile and hustled toward the door. Some of it was him, but most of it was the wind cutting through my four-hundred-dollar coat that was guaranteed to keep you warm at the North Pole.

And it worked in Ironwood like advertised, but I was quickly learning my new friend was right, it wasn't made for nor'easters, whatever that was.

How he knew I got it in L. A. I didn't have a clue, but that was one of the reasons I called him when I decided to go clothes shopping.

Granted, I hadn't planned on doing more than staying in my room and going to my client's office for the upgrade and a holiday party. Of course, I hadn't planned on inviting a homeless woman to my room, but as they say, if you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.

"And I told you, I'm not sleeping here, I'm just resting."

It was the first thing I'd heard her say in almost a decade and knew her voice in an instant. Hell, I used to dream about that soft voice with its gravelly edge whispering in my ear dirty little nothings until... well, until I didn't need them whispered anymore.

"Katie?" I asked before I registered what I was seeing.

She looked up, and the surprise on her face was a mirror of my own--eyes wide, lips parted. For a second, time didn't just stop. It turned around. I saw her not as she was--bundled up, dirty, exhausted--but as she used to be. Beautiful. Alive. Untouchable.

Her surprise came from hearing my voice, and mine came for the same reason--but also because she was sitting on the hotel's stone three-foot wall, wearing what looked like every piece of clothing she owned.

She was covered from head to toe with just her face sticking out, and she looked dirty. The only time I'd ever seen Katie dirty was that time the eleventh grade went camping and stargazing, and she got into a fight with Melissa Blevins over Billy. They rolled through a mud hole, and when Billy laughed, Katie kicked him in the nuts and told him they were over.

When she saw me, she bounded from the wall like a jack-in-the-box bursting through its top.

She hugged me like I was a life raft and she was drowning--and I didn't know what to do with that. Part of me wanted to melt into it. The other part wanted to pull away before her body odor melted my eyes.

"Alex, oh my God, what are you doing here?"

Her voice tickled my ear. I couldn't help but shiver a little.

"Business. What about you? Last I heard, you were in New York."

"She's been sleeping on the vent," the doorman said. "If she does it again, I'm calling the cops. It's a safety issue to have homeless people--"

"I'm not homeless," she said, turning back to the man without releasing me.

The man frowned, not wanting to argue in front of a potential patron.

"Katie," I said quietly, "are you homeless?"

She glanced at me, her jaw tight and tears welling in her eyes.

Anger boiled my blood. Whether from her situation or the fact that she didn't ever reach out, knowing I could've helped, I didn't know.

"You're staying with me, grab your stuff."

"Alex, you don't have to--"

"Just get your fucking stuff, Katie," I said letting my anger leak out.

I wasn't an angry man, and I sure the hell didn't speak to women like that, but something in me snapped for a moment. I was exhausted, and I needed answers.

I glared at the man until he opened the door for me. Then I marched across the lobby with Katie trailing behind, hunched under the weight of too many layers and too many years, straight to the front desk.

"Checking in," I said as the woman looked behind me.

"Sir, this isn't a homeless shelter," she said, giving Katie a dirty look.

It was the first time I'd ever seen her look ashamed. Not embarrassed--ashamed. Like she'd forgotten for a second what she looked like and who she was now, and that woman behind the desk had just reminded her in full color. She started to bolt. I caught her wrist instead.

"Then it's a good thing I have a reservation."

The woman asked my name, then paled. I might have been dragging a dirty homeless woman around, but I had booked one of the most expensive rooms in the place.

A single bedroom with a rain shower, a full living room, and a kitchenette. It was on the top floor and had one of the best views of the city.

I could see the wheels turning in her head. Refuse me service, and the hotel would lose a nice chunk of change, or let me check in with a homeless woman. She took the easy way out and called her supervisor. She could've called the governor and I wouldn't have cared. All I could think about was how Jesse would never have left Katie behind.

He took a look at Katie and said, "Do you understand you are responsible for all guests who stay with you?"

"I do."

"Very well. Please check in Mr. Anderson."

And that was that.

Next thing I knew, we were in the elevator and I was saying, "First thing you do is shower, then we eat, then I want answers."

She gave a little smile and said, "Damn, Alley-Cat, when did you grow a set of balls?"

I fought back a smile upon hearing her nickname for me in high school. I once asked her what it meant, and she said I was an alley cat no one wanted. It hurt, as she meant it too, but I had been trying to get her to date me and was... persistent. She crushed me to make me stop.

She had apologized, and I accepted, but it was too late because, unfortunately, she did it in the cafeteria, so for my last year of high school I was called 'Alley-Cat'.

Hearing her say it again brought back so many conflicting emotions.

"A lot of things have changed since the last time we saw each other."

She nodded but didn't say anything as we walked toward my room in silence.

We both had stories to tell. I just didn't know if we were ready to hear them.

------

Part Two

------

The room was deathly quiet except for the sound of Katie's shower. She hadn't argued as much as I expected, just peeled off her layers and tossed them out to be laundered with the rest.

My mind raced with questions I wasn't ready to ask, so I kept my peace--for now. I moved through the bedroom in silence, hanging up my suits, trying not to dwell on the things I didn't want answers to.

Thankfully, distraction came in the form of Katie leaning out of the bathroom, hair dripping, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"I hate to ask, but do you have a razor I can use?"

"A razor?"

"Yeah," she said, hooking a toned leg on the open door. "The shelters aren't the best place to get naked in, and the razors used in there are more for cutting than shaving."

I stared at her as the image of what she might have gone through played in my head. She mistook my gaze as something different. Much different.

"Don't worry. Just the legs, my pits, and the jungle between them. The legs and pits aren't that bad, but I'm starting to feel like I've got a chia pet growing down there."

Suddenly, my mind shifted from growing concern to the woman of my dreams naked and furry. I felt like a heel as the erotic image of Katie and her full bush filled my head. My eyes drifted downward, like I could see through the door if I tried hard enough.

She chuckled and tsk'd. "Well, well, well, could my little Alley-Cat have something naughty on his mind?" she teased.

I blushed--partly because I absolutely did, and partly because I knew that tone. The Katie I remembered used humor as a defense mechanism, especially when things got awkward and tense. And I'd just done both of those things.

I handed her my toiletry bag. "Use whatever you want, we'll get you your own stuff tomorrow."

"I appreciate you letting me stay with you tonight, but you are absolutely not buying me things."

Her voice was stern, and she meant every word, unfortunately for her... I wasn't asking permission. She needed things, and whether she stayed a night or forever, she wasn't leaving until she had them.

I told her as much, she protested, and I put my foot down. She smiled when she submitted to my will, but I knew her; she didn't submit without exacting a cost. At least the old Katie didn't. I'd soon find out that the new Katie was no different, just the payment she demanded.

I gave her a shirt of mine to wear, and then I couldn't look at her when she came out. She was still the Katie I lusted after in high school, but she'd grown into a woman's body. The kind of body that made men lose fortunes and forget their vows. She was sex in a t-shirt and she knew it.

And I'd seen women like her before. Women who could weaponized their sex, but Katie wasn't doing any of that. She was just existing. She exuded innocence and made me think of home. She had the perfect look that said, 'Come, rest in me, and I will heal you.'

God, I wanted to be healed.