Este’s not even a foot shorter than my 6’ 6”, and she’sall legs. Legs that are currently bare, outside, in freezing temperatures. Which is, of course, the only reason I’m thinking about them.
Before I can suggest she put something warmer on, Este turns to me. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on the couch. I’m sorry.”
“What did I tell you about apologizing?” There’s polite, and there’s apologizing for doing nothing wrong, and Este seems prone to the latter.
“To stop,” she says. She runs her tongue over her teeth, considering me for a moment. “You know, you’re very authoritative when you want something.”
Fuck. I’m an asshole. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to having peo?—”
“I like it.” Oh. “Did you sleep?” she asks, changing the subject while my brain is still desperately trying to process “I like it.”
“A couple hours, yeah.”
“No nightmares?”
“No nightmares,” I confirm. “You?”
“Not that I can remember. It’s been so long since I slept so well.” She stretches her neck, a happy, sleepy smile spreading over her face.
“The mountain air will do that,” I say, even though it’s never done that for me. Kindly, Este doesn’t call me out on my bullshit.
When the dogs have had enough and start acting like I personally made them stay out here for ten minutes playing instead of eating, the four of us head back inside.
“Do you want me to top the fire up while you feed them?” Este asks.
I open my mouth to tell her not to worry, but considering how much she apologizes for simply being around, I suspect she doesn’t like feeling like a burden. “That’d be great. Thanks. Just toss a couple of the logs from the basket in, and it should be fine for a few hours.”
The boys wind around my legs as I fill their bowls, and Earl nudges my hand with his head to say thank you when I put them down. I fill the kettle and put it on to boil before picking up my phone and cursing.
(1) Bryan-Missed call
(6) Shay-Missed call
(3) Park Rangers Office-Missed call
It’s the last set of missed calls that makes my stomach sink. The Park Rangers rarely call. They text me if someone has spotted bears near the cabin, or if they want me to keep an eye out for a specific kind of plant or lost backpack or something. But they only call when there’s a problem with the road, to make sure I don’t attempt to make it down and get stuck.
I should probably call them first, but if Shay has called six times, she’s worried. She’ll know I’m okay—even when she still lived in California, and I was here in Wyoming, we could tell when something was wrong with the other. I knew she and her ex-husband had broken up before she called to tell me, and last year I woke up in the middle of the night with a sharp pain in my chest and the inexplicable knowledgethat she was in danger. I sped down the mountain to find Wintermore’s whole volunteer fire department putting out a blaze in Noelle’s apartment building. They were both fine, but Shay and I justknow.
She picks up on the second ring, breathless. “Why the hell didn’t you answer?”
“I was outside with the dogs. I’m fine, I promise. What’s going on?”
“There was an avalanche last night.” She sounds calmer just hearing my voice.
“I know. We heard it. But it didn’t touch the cabin.”
“Right, but—wait, we? Bryan’s already there?”
I look up, my gaze zeroing in on Este kneeling in front of the fireplace, alternating ear scratches between Earl and Grey. The fire is crackling healthily behind her. She catches me watching and smiles. I try to return it, but it’s probably more of a grimace.
“Not Bryan. He, Chris, and Sloane are flying in today, but Este drove. She arrived last night.”
Shay sighs. “Shit, Nico. They’re not flying in today. The snow was even worse up in Jackson. There are no flights in or out—something about a bunch of power lines getting damaged overnight, and they can’t get anyone in to repair them because the roads are all fucked. Including the road up the mountain. It’s impassable.”
I lean on the table, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I figured. I have missed calls from the rangers.”
“And you called me first?”
