Ten Below Zero(56)

I closed my eyes, let the heat of his arms around me and the sun beating down on us wash me with comfort.

“Come,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me up the small hill to the arch after everyone else had started walking away. He handed the thing he’d grabbed from the car to someone walking by. “Would you mind taking a photo of us at the arch?” he asked politely. Why he never spoke to me so kindly, I didn’t know.

Everett pulled me up to the arch and sat right beneath it, pulling me next to him, our legs dangling over the little cave that was carved out directly underneath us.

“Look, Parker.” He pointed at the view we’d been looking at before. “Look at this view as this man takes this photo of us.” He turned to me, putting an arm around me and pulling me closer. I felt his lips at my ear. “Everyone who sees this photo will see us under the arch. But when you see this photo, you’ll see the canyon and the water and all the beauty in front of us.” I was vaguely aware of the man setting the camera down on a rock after taking our photo. “Remember that, Parker. When you look at this photo, remember looking at purgatory with me. While everyone else was looking at the arch, we were looking at that.”

My heart was in my throat, blocking words from coming. I turned to look at him. His blue eyes were brighter than usual. They searched my face for a second before his lips moved to meet mine. He held my face tightly in his hands, keeping me still. The entire world dropped away when he kissed me. I wanted nothing more than to exist forever in this purgatory with Everett, with his hands on my skin and his lips pressed against mine and the warmth of his skin on my fingertips. He’d made me feel. With only words and the touch of his skin, he’d made me feel.

When Everett pulled away, he was staring at me, unblinking. He swallowed hard and let out a breath. “Let’s catch up to the group,” he said before jumping down from the arch. He put his hands up, indicating for me to jump into his arms. So I did.



Further down the road all the cars pulled off and people exited their vehicles, grabbing food and water and removing their shoes or putting on water shoes.

“What are we doing?” I asked Everett as he tossed some things from the cooler into a backpack.

“We’re crossing the river to eat lunch.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he said, throwing the backpack on his shoulder. “The longest set of dinosaur tracks in North America lie on the other side of that river.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” His lips twitched.

“Hey! No dead talk. Against the rules.”

“It’s an expression, Parker. Chill out. Oh wait, you’re already ten below zero.” He winked at me before closing the door. I knew he was teasing me, and I wasn’t angry. Instead, my own lips twitched.

Everett looked at me with a bit of shock. “Don’t tell me you’re on the verge of smiling.”

I shook my head, willing my lips to relax. “No. You’re still rude.”

“Like I said, I never claimed to be anything else.” He winked at me and then reached a hand out for me. “The water is relatively low, but I want you to hold on to me while we cross it.” His mood had taken such a drastic turn from earlier that I couldn’t help but feel a little whiplash.

“Why were you so cold this morning, Everett?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about it, against the rules.” He pulled me close as we took the first steps into the water.

“Okay, forget the rules for a minute. Or, abide by your own – no lying. Tell me.”

He sighed. “Do you want to know how I first knew the cancer had returned?”

“Sure,” I said, eager for any information.

“I drove a student home from school. They didn’t wear their seatbelt as I pulled out of the parking lot. And it was on the tip of my tongue to say something biting, to yell. Remember how angry I became when you removed your seatbelt?”

I nodded, grabbing on to his forearm when my bare foot slipped on one of the rocks. He wrapped an arm tighter around my waist. “The cancer, it makes me angry. It messes with my head. I get nightmares, headaches, and it changes how I feel about things. Or, rather, it exacerbates it. It’s why I don’t mind being an alcoholic.”

I watched the others reach the other side of the river and wait for us. “But you haven’t had alcohol on this trip.” I almost regretted asking him to stop drinking as part of our rules. It was a weird feeling. You’d think helping an alcoholic refrain would be an obvious thing to do. But instead, it seemed like I’d only increased Everett’s torment.

“I would be lying if I told you I didn’t miss it. Especially when I woke up with that nightmare. But I don’t mind being sober, not with you. You’re not a work colleague or a concerned friend.”

We reached the shore and Everett loosened his arm from around my waist, grabbing my hand instead. “I am concerned,” I disagreed.

“But I don’t have to put up a front with you. We both see each other for who we are. And you haven’t run.”

“Yet.”

He smiled. “Right. But you’re barefoot and clumsy, so if you try to run from me now, you’re likely to fall on your face in the river.”

I shook my head. “There you go, proving you can’t say nice things to me like the rules stipulate.”