We wait quietly for our car, the hum of the engine purring. I hug myself tight, body still shaking, still remembering the iron brand of watching my luggage slam through the window, clothes fluttering to the ground.
It could have broken me, but I’m still standing. Still here.
“I’m sorry,” I say, biting my bottom lip, searching for the right words. “I ruined your night, and now today?—”
He cuts in gently but firmly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Things were a lot less complicated before I showed up.”
“Less interesting, too,” he adds.
A car pulls up, door sliding open. A little thrill flutters through my chest. I don’t know if it’s from the sear of his hot flesh as he helps me inside. Or the anticipation of floating above the twilight ski resort.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I say breathlessly, blood draining from my face.
His eyebrows shoot up. “You okay?”
The door slides shut, and we lurch forward slightly.
“Have to be now, right?”
He looks puzzled, taking the seat across from me. Giving me space. But it’s not what I want right now.
I twist my hands in my lap, squeezing my eyes shut for one long moment. “I didn’t tell you before. But I’m kind of afraid of heights.”
His face falls, like he’s measuring a miscalculation. “How bad is it?”
“Just enough that … umm.” I shift in my seat, refusing to look out the window as the car moves stiltedly forward, down the long concrete platform as more passengers load behind us.
“Do you need to get off, Allie?” he asks, eyeing the emergency lever above the door, leaning forward.
I shake my head too fast, pulse racing. “Talk to me,” I whisper when the ground drops away.
He does. Low. Steady.
And I realize—I’ve spent years using my voice for other people, but this is the first time someone else’s voice makes me feel safe.
Still, I need more.How do I ask this?Trevor would mock me for such a request.
I open my eyes, appraise the cowboy for one long moment. He’snotTrevor.
“Maybe you could sit next to me? And… umm… hold my hand?”
He doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t make it a thing. Just takes the seat, covering my trembling fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asks, confusion threading his voice. “We could’ve done something else.”
“No, I want to do this,” I explain, voice firming. “Just not alone. Is that okay?”
He nods.
The lifts rises, and I gasp, squeezing his warm hand tighter. His fingers grip mine, resolute and steady. Something I can count on.
“You okay?”
Momentary weightlessness fills the space as we climb sharply upward. My breath hitches in my throat, and my chest tightens. Then, the car’s path smooths a slow, intentional climb.
“Allie?”
I open one eye, peering at him in the dark space, moonlight and stardust illuminating his features.
