2. Lennox

CHAPTER 2

LENNOX

I pace the confines of my cabin, feeling like a caged animal. The snowstorm raging outside only mirrors the chaos of white noise within me.

This damn creative block is killing me. My deadline is looming larger and larger, and I'm no closer to penning a hit than I was when I first arrived at this godforsaken place.

Frozen Heights…more like Frozen Hell.

I shake my head, trying to clear my mind and ignore the frustration simmering inside me. My daily routine has become a repetitive cycle of self-inflicted torture. I wake up, force myself to hold my dad’s old Gibson acoustic, and stare at the blank notepad, willing something…anything…to come. Some days, I scribble down a few meaningless notes and phrases before crumpling the paper in disappointment. Others I don't even bother, instead wandering listlessly around the cabin, or sitting in the armchair by the fireplace staring at the flames, wishing they’d consume me once and for all.

The silence here is supposed to be therapeutic, but it's driving me insane. I miss the chaos of being in the studio, the buzz of ideas bouncing off the walls, feeding off the energy of others. But I lost almost all my work contacts, friends, and even family years ago from my addiction to alcohol. I think my manager, Wally, only sticks with me because he’s nutty enough to believe I’ll be back on top again one day, making him rich.

It's left me alone with my demons. Not the ones I booted to get sober, but the ones that continually whisper I’m way past my prime.

I take a hot shower, then walk into my bedroom and stretch, taking a big, deep lungful of this mountain air. Even with all the snow, I like to keep the window cracked open. I grab the Gibson and sit on the bed, strumming aimlessly. This instrument, once my trusted companion, now feels foreign and unfamiliar. And silent.

I've been away for five years, which is officially a lifetime for a musician. My last album, Soul's Farewell , was a farewell to more than just my life as I knew it back then—it apparently marked the end of my creative flow, leaving me hollow and empty. Once, I could seduce thousands and come up with endless melodies and lyrics, but now, even a single verse feels beyond me.

Cradling the guitar close to my body, I try a few broken words, then curse under my breath.

“Focus. Prove everyone wrong, especially yourself,” I mumble.

But any inspiration has long faded. I strum a few more notes, nostalgia and past glories hitting me like a freight train. My fingers freeze mid-chord, and I stare aimlessly out the windows.

Then I spot a blur of movement out in the snow, near a thick pine tree.

Is someone... out there ?

No way. Not in this weather. It’s probably just some animal.

I rise from the bed and cross to press my face against the window.

Wait.

That vibrant green hat in the middle of the snowdrift wasn’t there before.

I hurriedly tug on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and run to the door where I pull on my boots and coat. For a second I consider grabbing my rifle, but something tells me I don’t need it. My heart pounds as I rush outside, the cold air hitting me like a slap to the face. I charge across the yard, snow crunching under me until I reach the hat.

A tiny young woman lies in the snow, struggling to sit up. There’s a broken tree branch beside her.

What the fuck? Was she spying on me in the middle of this blizzard?

I pull her up into a sitting position and kneel down. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Her pretty, green eyes go wide as they meet mine.

She doesn’t answer.

“Well?” I add.

“I...um...” she stammers. “I...I'm so sorry. I didn't mean... I was...” But nothing I can work with comes out.

“We don’t have all day, honey. We’ll freeze our asses off out here. Are you okay to stand?”

She nods. “You’re Lennox Steele,” she says suddenly, almost as if in a daze.

I reach under her arms and pull her up on her feet next to me.

“Yeah. And who are you?” I ask, admiring her flaming red hair.

“I-I’m Hallie Owens,” she replies almost automatically.

“Can you walk?”

She nods.

“Then let’s get our butts inside. I can’t feel my goddamn face,” I snap, as a gust of wind cracks against my face like an icy whip. I get a good hold on her with one arm before we hurry back toward the cabin. Her steps are unsteady, and I can hear her teeth chattering.

I tighten my grip around her and hustle us inside. After removing my coat and boots, I help her out of her wet jacket.

I can’t help but glance down at her heaving chest. “Sheriff’s Department?” I ask, seeing the embroidered logo on the right side of her shirt. Who is this woman? “Go sit by the fire and grab a blanket from the sofa. Warm yourself up,” I say. “Then tell me what’s going on, Ms. Owens.”

“Call me Hallie,” she replies, heading over to the fireplace.

I notice that her gaze follows me from the room. Luckily, I keep a pot of coffee on all day. I guess I traded my alcohol addiction for one to caffeine. But I wouldn’t be the first to do that, and I’ll take it. I pour a couple of steaming mugs and return to the sofa, handing one to her.

Her hands are so cold, and for some reason I feel an inexplicable need to warm them with my own. But I resist the urge and instead sit next to her.

“Let’s hear it, Hallie,” I say, as she curls into the blanket. “What is someone from the Sheriff’s Department doing out here?”

Her pale skin goes pink and she inhales deeply. “I need your autograph.”

What? Did she just say autograph? You’ve got to be kidding me!

“You risked your life, falling from a fucking tree in the middle of a blizzard, for an autograph ?” I grind out. I’m furious.

“Yes, but?—”

“Unbelievable,” I seethe, looking away to keep my anger under control. “Okay, once you get warmed up and finish your coffee, you need to leave. I should report you to the Sheriff himself. He gave me his word no one would know I was even here.”

“Please don’t, Mr. Steele,” she pleads. “He knows nothing of this. I found out on my own. I can be pretty ingenious when I want something.”

“So, stalking then?” I snap. This woman has some nerve.

“Not stalking…” she begins, and I nearly roll my eyes. “Not completely .” She scoots herself forward and throws her shoulders back. “I swear, if you want me to leave empty-handed I will. But I had to try. The autograph’s not for me, it’s for my little sister, Ciara. She’s your biggest fan. She has JIA—chronic arthritis—and she’s had a really shitty year. I overheard you were in town, and I guess I hoped I could make her Christmas special with an autograph from her idol.”

Shit. I didn’t expect to hear that she’s doing all of this for a chronically ill baby sister. My heart aches a bit. Did I also lose my sense of humanity when I lost my way with music?

“I’m sorry she’s had a rough year,” I say, my voice low. I rub the scruff under my chin. “Sure. I'll sign something for your sister. But then you go on your way.”

If she stays here any longer, I’m positive I’ll do something that’ll ruin her sister’s opinion of me. I wouldn’t want Hallie to tell her sister what an asshole I am.

Hallie smiles. “Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Steele! Ciara’s going to flip?—”

I cut off her grateful words. I really don't deserve them. “Call me Lennox. Mr. Steele sounds like some vintage superhero, and I’m anything but that.”

She smiles even more brightly. I’d better get up quickly or else I might smile back. “Back in a minute.”

I head to the office space just off the living room. I know exactly which album I want to sign for Ciara: Welcome to the Party . It was my first and has always remained my favorite. It was pure joy to make. It also made me rich beyond my wildest dreams. But honestly, I’d give up all the money just to feel that same joy again I felt making that album. I finally find it after rifling through a stack near the window and grab a black pen.

When I return to Hallie, she’s still drinking her coffee by the fire where I left her. With the glow of the flames illuminating her, she’s downright sexy.

I sit next to her and uncap the pen. “How do you spell your sister’s name?”

“C-i-a-r-a,” she says, and I write it on the cover, together with a short note about how much I appreciate her as a diehard fan. Then I hand it to Hallie.

She beams. “She’ll love it,” she says, running her delicate fingers over the cover. God, I wonder what those fingers would feel like on my skin?—

Watch it, Len.

“This will make her Christmas. Thank you again.” She looks up, and my eyes go straight to hers.

“Even though I’m not condoning your methods, you took a risk for someone you love and I respect that. Not many people would have braved these conditions, even if it was for a very good cause.” I pause for a second, thinking. “Fame has taught me that kindness from others usually comes with a price.”

I’m not sure why I feel the need to tell her this. But something makes me want her to know where I’m coming from. Why I might act the way I do.

“That’s too bad. I know I’d do anything for my family and friends. And as a proud member of the Sheriff’s Department, I risk a lot for anyone…for nothing in return.”

I’m in awe of her huge heart.

A gust of wind slams into the cabin, interrupting my train of thought, and we both jump, turning toward the windows.

Outside, snow is covering everything in a massive blanket of white. And it seems to be piling up at an alarming rate.

I can’t let Hallie go back out in that. I need to keep her safe and sound.

With me.

“I made gumbo,” I say quickly. “You might as well grab a bowl for dinner. Doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere for a while.”