Frost on My Window Read Online Free

out onto the ledge to talk the person down. I wasn’t wild about the idea of standing on the edge of the cliffs, but I couldn’t just leave him there alone.
    “What’s your name?” he asked without turning towards me.
    “Leah.” I looked up as he glanced my way.
    “Leah, have you ever seen such a sight?” It was then that I smelled the sharp scent of alcohol.
    “No.” I thought of the only body of water at home and gave a slight laugh.
    “You think this is funny?” His voice held a hint of irritation.
    “No. It’s just that where I come from the only water flowing is the river. Trust me, the California coast looks a lot different from the Schuylkill River.”
    “Where’s that?”
    “Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.”
    “You’re from there, then?”
    “Born and raised. What’s your name?”
    “Sean.”
    I put out my hand and watched as it was engulfed by his. An unexpected electric current set my fingers to tingling. The grip of his fingers was tight, but I didn’t extract my hand until I’d managed to pull him further away from the edge. “So, Sean, where are you from?” I stained to keep my voice casual.
    “You can’t guess?” His accent became a little more pronounced.
    “Los Angeles?” I guessed.
    “Good God, no. My families from Scotland but I spent most of my time in Sonoma,” his voice was filled with indignation.
    “Sorry,” I smiled. “You just fit my image of either an actor or a Calvin Klein underwear model.”
    His mouth opened and closed, and then he laughed and the sound echoed over the cliff, sending sleeping birds into the air. For a moment his face caught the moonlight and his eyes glowed burning green. I wondered later how I didn’t recognize him. Then again, I was too wrapped up in mourning Lance’s marriage, grappling with the loss of something I’d never had. It was Sean who spoke next.
    “You did a very dangerous thing, Leah, coming out here alone.”
    I gestured towards the tall cliff. “And your standing right on the edge is safe?” The sarcasm in my voice could have cut through steel.
    He seemed eager to change the subject. “So what is a beautiful woman like you doing all alone when the party of the year is taking place less than a hundred yards away?”
    I shrugged my shoulders and then carefully sat down in the grass. “I’m not really in the party mood tonight.”
    “I find myself not wanting to attend these things either,” Sean said.
    “Is that what brought you out here?”
    “No.”
    I watched as a shudder racked his body and his breathing became even more uneven and heavy. “Three years ago on this night,” he said slowly, “my mother died of cancer.”
    We were quiet for a while and impulsively I reached over and took his hand. Sean’s fingers clutched so tight I thought my fingers would break. And then the sobs came and I could barely hear his whispers. I’d only seen my father cry once, at a funeral. My mother had taken him aside and held him in her arms. Using that memory as an example, I did the same.
    And so we sat next to the cliff and I talked steadily, with Sean quiet save a shudder, a laugh, or a muttered word. I talked all night about growing up happy, sassy, and loved in Philly. Sometime during the night, we stretched out on the grass, snuggled together for warmth. Much later, blinking to clear the sleep from my eyes, I sat up slowly.
    The tide had rolled out, uncovering the rocks, and that place where the land ended abruptly and the ocean rolled in claiming the earth as its own was as close to perfect as I thought possible. I watched as the sea of silver tides gave way to waves of gold. With the sun peeking above skyline, I turned to look at the person at my side. His eyes were closed and lips slack with sleep.
    In darkness, people unpeel the layers and reveal themselves. That night a stranger named Sean became a son missing his mother, a long-lost child remembering, and a human hurting. I reluctantly pulled my hand away from his as