Last Summer(62)

After spending the afternoon at the medical clinic and a better part of the evening downstairs with Scott and his crew as they exchanged tales of their own near-death experiences, Ella finally has Nathan alone in their room. He’s whole, he’s alive, and she can’t stop touching him. His body isn’t having issues reacting to her ministrations either.

“Sorry.” She adjusts his flannel sleep pants so that the elastic waistband doesn’t press into the large contusion on his left hip.

Aside from a couple of bruised ribs, some contusions, and a dislocated shoulder, compliments of an old motorbike injury, Nathan survived the avalanche unscathed. On the grand scale of avalanches, it was minor. Just a shelf of snow that broke off, triggered on Nathan’s descent. As soon as the snowpack had slowed and Nathan stopped sliding, he radioed to Scott that he was okay, even dug himself out before Scott could ski to him. Nathan was already standing and talking about the burn in his shoulder before the Canadian couple and Trey skied down the mountainside after him.

A lot of things come into play to trigger an avalanche, but Scott thinks this one happened because the fresh powder fell onto a section of harder packed snow.

Small avalanche or not, it’s not something Ella wants to witness again. Her hands shake as she helps Nathan into his shirt since his arm’s in a sling. No wonder Stephanie worried for Nathan. She can’t imagine feeling this way every time he left the house.

Ella tugs his shirt to his waist and Nathan sinks onto the bed. “I ache.”

So does she. Dead center in her chest.

She bites into her lower lip and distracts herself by adjusting the bedcovers over Nathan. Between the business deal with Scott, his pending divorce, and his injuries, Nathan has enough to contend with. The last thing he needs is a blubbering mess hovering over him.

But she can’t help it. The scene on the mountain keeps replaying in her head. Nathan tumbling, on the wrong side of control, disappearing, buried alive under a layer of snow. Who cares if those layers were only inches of loosely packed powder and all he had to do was lift his head and shake off the snow? It was still scary to witness. A tear glides down her cheek, and another slides and clings to her chin. Nathan watches her curiously. Embarrassed, she turns away and wipes her face.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

She turns back to him, dragging her sleeve-covered fist across her cheekbone.

“Come here.” Nathan stretches his arm across the pillow, inviting her into bed.

She slides under the covers and snuggles up against him, mindful of his bruises. He smells of the hospital, antiseptic and bleach, and she’s unexpectedly taken back to the morning she forgot Simon, those same smells fresh in her nose. She buries her face into his shirt and cries.

“Why do you do these things?”

He lifts a hand to her hair, massages the back of her head. “I want to feel alive.”

Heli-skiing, wingsuit flying, even speedgliding, a crazy-insane parachuting and skiing mash-up. He’s done so much and even though he told her during their sessions that he wishes he could do more—Everest, BASE jumping, and Antarctica trekking, to name a few—he swore to himself that he was done. But now that he is divorcing Stephanie and has had a taste of the extreme again after a long hiatus, Ella wonders if he’ll be able to abstain.

“Is it worth getting yourself killed in the process?”

The words are out before she can think otherwise. Nathan tenses underneath her. She already knows why. It’s something Stephanie would have said to him.

“You aren’t thirty years old anymore,” she risks saying. “Actually, you’re closer to forty than thirty,” she says, trying for levity.

“I know.” Nathan’s expression softens, and he chuckles. Then he groans. “Ouch.” Laughing and sore ribs. Not a good mix. “Thanks for pointing out my age, Skye.”

“Anytime, old man.” She props her chin on his chest and smiles. At thirty-seven, he’s still in mighty fine shape.

“There’s something else I know,” he says, his voice sounding sluggish, his eyelids drooping as the painkillers kick in.

“What’s that?” she murmurs.

“You make me feel alive.”





CHAPTER 25

Nathan wakes Ella with his mouth. He lavishes kisses on her bare breasts. He skims his teeth along her ribs, nips her hip, then kisses her scar.

Self-conscious yet curious about his interest, Ella leans up on her elbows.

“What is your fascination with my scar?” she asks drowsily.

Nathan lifts his head and their eyes meet. He rolls to his back and lies beside her.

“Nathan?”

He drapes his uninjured arm over his eyes.

Ella pushes down her sleep shirt and sits up. “Talk to me.”

He peeks at her from under his arm. “You want to do this now? I’m bruised, battered, and drugged.”

“Don’t be a baby.” She playfully nudges him. Physically, he’s the toughest guy she knows. “Did you take a pill this morning?”

“I was going to, but I got distracted.” He reaches for her breasts.

She smacks away his hand. “Focus. You. Me. Last summer.” She’s done waiting.

“You’re on your walkabout on the PCT, and after months of being pestered by various media outlets for your story, you decide to give Luxe Avenue the exclusive,” she summarizes. “You call Rebecca, she sends me. You double back and meet me at the Squaw Valley parking lot. We backpack for five days, and then what? What did we do?”