“I did wonder why they kept bringing up the scar on herhand. Damn.” She shakes her head as she picks her Kindle back up.
“I’m going to chop firewood. You want to help?”
Este wrinkles her nose. “Nope. I did that purely to try and make you snap, and I have much more interesting ways of doing that now.”
“That you do.” I lean down to kiss her forehead as I pass, but she reaches for my face, pressing her lips against mine and breathing out a happy sigh as I stand back up. “I was thinking. Tonight, what do you say I make us a nice dinner, and we watch a movie or something?”
“Like a date night?” she asks, tilting her head. She runs the little wooden bear around her neck along the chain. She’s only taken it off to shower since I gave it to her, and she plays with it all the time.
A date night.Christ. I’m far too old for fucking butterflies. “Yeah. Like a date night.”
“That sounds perfect,” she answers, her smile a mirror of the one I feel stretching across my face.
This might be the most perfect day I’ve had in… maybe ever.I’m happy, I think, for the first time in over two decades as I gather logs and drop them by the tree stump I use to chop firewood. Truly happy. I’m not naive enough to think I’m going to feel better forever. I know Este alone can’t fix my fucked-up head and heart, nor is it her responsibility to do so, but she’s sure as hell making a difference. I hope I’m making a difference for her, too.
I roll my shoulders before raising the axe and bringing it down on a log. I’ve worked my body more than usual this week, and my muscles are tired. Maybe I can convince Esteto soak in the tub with me later, after the movie. Some Epsom salts, bubble bath, and her in my arms sounds like a good date night to me.
Thankfully, the axe is so sharp that it’s doing all the work for me as I split the logs. We don’t need many to top up the pile of firewood; a few should do it.
The distant rumbling of a plane overhead breaks up the silence of the forest, and I watch Este look up, squinting as she takes in the speck flying thousands of feet above us. She stares at the sky until it’s long past overhead, before sighing and looking back at her Kindle.
I can tell how much she misses being up there. Her decision not to fly commercially anymore does feel like the best one for her, but I hope she finds a way to still do what she loves when she’s ready.
I stack the firewood and set another log on the tree stump. I raise the axe and bring it down, but my arm spasms like it has every now and then since the accident. My fingers are not in my control when they open, dropping the handle. I try to grab it, but my hand feels frozen, and everything happens so fast.
Too fast.
The blade hits the log at the wrong angle, knocking it from the stump. But the axe doesn’t tumble to the ground with it. It bounces, spinning up through the air, and I can’t move out of the way fast enough, not completely.
I lurch to the side, and the blade buries itself in my arm, right below my shoulder.
It feels like I’ve been punched, the impact forcing me to my knees. I crash to the ground, barely registering the axelodged in my arm. The world around me is muted, foggy, tilting…
Este’s scream breaks through it all. It hurts, hearing her scream like that. A white-hot, blinding pain that rips through my body. It knocks me backward until I’m lying flat on my back. I can’t move my arm. I can’tfeelmy arm, only pain.
Seconds pass, or maybe hours, and Este is there, leaning over me. She’s blurry, but she’s perfect. God, she’s so fucking perfect.
I try to focus on what she’s saying, but there’s a ringing in my ears, and she’s crying. She’s crying, and I can’t do anything.
She disappears from my line of sight, and I feel her fingers at my belt buckle. She tries to tug my belt, and I try to help, to lift my hips, but I don’t feel in control of my body. Somehow, she frees it and leans over me again, speaking.
Focus, Nico. Fucking focus.
Este lays her hand on my face, and I swear it dulls the pain.
“Nico,” she sobs.
My mouth feels like sandpaper, but I open it and attempt to form her name.
“Shh, shh, save your energy,” she says, stroking my face. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks, and the sound hurts more than anything else ever could.
Or so I think. Because a moment later, Este moves my arm. My vision goes completely black, and the sound that tears from my throat is inhuman.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Este chants. I can’t seeor feel what she’s doing, only agonizing pain, but I can guess, considering the clink of my belt buckle. And considering the wave of pain that spreads through me when she yanks something. I’ve never felt anything like this before.
Este is muttering to herself. She stands over me, and I blink, my stomach churning at the sight of her covered in blood. My blood.
“I’ll be back. Please stay awake,” she begs, before running in the direction of the cabin.
