“They’re here,” she whispers, and I catch the tremor in her voice.
I pull her against me one last time. “Hey. We’re okay. Remember?”
She nods against my chest but her fingers are digging into my sweater like she’s drowning.
The helicopter lands on the pad we spent hours clearing this morning. All that miserable silence while we shoveled, both of us too proud and terrified to bridge the gap we’d created. What a waste of time that was.
Never again.
I grab our bags and she follows me outside into the rotor wash. The cold hits like a slap but I barely feel it. My body is still running hot from claiming her.
Mountain Rescue crew emerges first. Two guys in technical gear who look vaguely disappointed we’re not half-dead.
Then Marcel steps down and his face does something I’ve never seen before. His jaw actually drops.
I must look different.
IknowI look different.
The man who arrived here two weeks ago was a burned-out shell running on rage and scotch. The man standing here now is...
Fuck if I know what I am.
But I’m notthatanymore.
“Mr. Falk.” Marcel recovers his composure but his eyes keep flicking between me and Sorrel. “Thank god you’re safe. We’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“I know. It’s good to see you.” I clasp his shoulder and he flinches before catching himself. Like he’s waiting for me to fire him or tell him he fucked something up.
Which, fair enough.
In fifteen years I’ve never greeted him with anything warmer than a curt nod.
I’ve certainly never touched him unless it was to physically steer him toward whatever corporate fire needed extinguishing.
Christ, I’ve been an asshole.
Marcel’s eyes dart to Sorrel once again, then back to me, like he’s trying to piece together exactly what happened in that chalet to transform his perpetually furious boss into someone capable of warmth.
Because the Gregory Falk he knows would be screaming about the delayed pickup, demanding explanations for everycommunication failure, and already strategizing damage control.
That guy feels like someone I used to know.
Someone I’m not particularly interested in being anymore.
The crew starts loading Sorrel’s gear. Her pathetic duffel bag and the broken equipment that stranded her here in the first place. The equipment failure that might be the best thing that ever happened to me.
There’s something I still need to do.
And I need to do itnow.
Before we’re in the air.
Before Marcel and the crew and the entire fucking world gets between us.
I pull Sorrel aside, away from the helicopter’s noise. She comes willingly but there’s fear in her eyes.
“I have to tell you something before we leave,” I begin, my breath misting.
