“Why I did this,you’re unbelievable. I make all of your dreams come true and then you discover you have different dreams.”
Anger simmered through me. “Why are you saying this now? There’s a blizzard outside the window, we couldn’t get off of this stupid mountain if we tried.”
“There’s got to be another way. This bay is packed with islands, maybe there’s another bridge or—”
“Are you going to walk off this mountain? I almost fell into a crevice yesterday!”
“I heard snowmobiles when I walked to the car.” His eyes were trained on a point across the mountain peaks in the distance. “The hike only took me a few hours with snowdrifts. I found a pile of skis, that’s what I was searching for in the basement.”
“Y-you’re going to leave?” Terror thudded through my heart.
“Do you know how to ski?” Tav’s eyes trained on mine.
I shook my head.
“I do. My family spent every Christmas in Telluride when I was a kid.”
“S-so you’ve just decided then?” Tears welled in my eyes.
Tav shrugged. “What other option is there?”
“We can’t just wait it out?”
“There’s not enough food, you saw the pantry. If we both stay, we’ll be rationing rice by next week. It’s safer for you. I just have to get to a phone and dad can send a helicopter. I should be able to get off this mountain in less than two days, even if I have to ski clear around the base. Maybe there are patrol boats out in the bay, I can flag one down with a flare.”
The thought of being all alone up here struck fear in my bones.
“I can’t stay up here.”
“Why not?” He shot up from the chair. “You have everything you need, every modern convenience at your fingertips.”
“Except communication.”
“You hardly communicate all week, all it is is business and contracts. I thought that’s why you wanted the break on the top of afuckingmountain.”
I cringed. Tav rarely swore.
And what was worse? He was right.
“Tav—”
He held up his hand, his jaw grinding as he turned back to the frost-patterned window. “We’ll die here if we stay together.”
Twelve
Tav never met my family.
The thoughts chugged on repeat as I watched him strap his bad ankle into a ski boot.
“They fit!” He hauled himself off the porch step and then shoved and clicked his first boot onto the ski. Next came the second foot—his bad foot. It clicked into place. He grinned as he clutched the ski poles in hand and then took off down the driveway.
He had perfect form, at least as far as I could tell.
I’d never been skiing, he would know that if he’d met my mother. Our worlds were so different, his childhood idyllic and mine chaotic.
What else had Tav never mentioned about his life?
He stopped in front of me now, a thousand-watt smile on his face. “Did you see that?”
