Page 46 of Falling For Alaska

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Makes you think twice before taking for granted people you care about.” He wiggles an eyebrow at me, like he’s dropping a hint. Alaska’s face flashes before my eyes. Our date is coming up, and I don’t know how much longer I will stand her looks and kisses before I have to tell her the truth. That I’m leaving. And my twisted heart doesn’t know what the hell to do about it. All I know is that walking away from her feels like losing a limb. Is that what Callahan felt when he lost his sister to the woods? Because right now, I can’t shake the feeling that if I take her on this date…I might never leave Lakeside at all.

Chapter Sixteen

ALASKA

I rummage through my wardrobe, trying to find something that doesn’t give away how much thought I’ve put into it. Hiking while still wanting to look presentable for the only man who’s managed to light a fire in me in years isn’t exactly simple. I settle on black leggings, camel-colored hiking shoes that lace snugly around my ankles, a thick green sweater, and my black backpack stocked with water, snacks, and a book. Because you never know when you might want to read.

Jack and I had set this day the last time I saw him, which was a bit more than a week ago. I’ve been thinking about him ever since, the way he kissed me, how he listened, and how alarmed he was at my burn. Everything he did made me feel safe. He probably didn’t see that I caught him clenching his jaw after his work call, but I did. I just didn’t want to intrude.

Jack’s hiding something.

I’m hiding something from Jack.

It’s fair game.

Last night, I dreamed of a little house with kids, cookies in the oven, and a husband coming home to me with a smile and a flirty gaze full of promises. And it might be possible that the husband was none other than Jack.

I twirl in front of my mirror in the entryway and then catch sight of the white scars on my hands. Don’t be silly. Remember what you promised yourself. Remember why this dream will always be just that, a dream. A strong knock jerks me out of my thoughts. I open the door to a geared-up Jack, dark green pants and vest, black laced rangers, and a look that turns my insides into lava.

“Hey,” I say, barely catching my breath.

“Hey,” he repeats, drinking me in from head to toe, one hand on the doorway. I zero in on the veins dancing beneath the skin of his hands. They’re my favorite thing. Maybe because I hate mine so much. His are wide and rough. Yet, when he touches me, he couldn’t be gentler. He motions with his chin to come closer, and I do immediately, as if he’s roped me in. Rising on my tiptoes, I leave a feather-light kiss on his cheek, his manly scent popping in my nostrils and intoxicating my mind.

“You g-got everything you need?” he asks, clearing his throat and stepping back as I pass through the doorway. I nod twice, and then he closes the door behind me. Offering his hand, I take it, lacing my fingers with his as he walks me to his car, a large black SUV. We circle it until he opens the passenger door and helps me in.

“I’ll put your b-backpack there. We’ve got a bit of driving to do,” he says, taking my bag and placing it in the trunk. I fasten my seatbelt and take in his clean and organized car, its perfectly dust-free plastic interior and three packs of gum neatly lined between our seats. Mom was right, Jack’s definitely the kind of guy who would organize pencils by height.

“You’re…p-pretty,” he says, sliding behind the wheel, and the sound of his words sends heat rushing to my cheeks.

“Thanks,” I murmur, a silent thrill blooming under my skin. I lift my gaze toward Pine Crest, the mountain rising ahead of us. It’s a thirty-minute drive from here. Locals hike it all summer, and in winter the trails disappear beneath snow. My fingers tingle, my scars catching my attention, glowing like pale stitches under my gaze. Winter isn’t here yet.

Breathe.

It’s still early in the season, there may not be snow yet. Since the accident, any time I see it, or worse, touch it, ice brings me straight back to the incident. The therapist I used to see said it was a trigger I could overcome with time. But I’ve never succeeded in calming myself down. Instead, I just avoid it. If there’s ice up there, and I somehow come in contact with it, God knows what I’ll do.

“I’ve tested it two d-days ago, just to m-make sure it was doable,” he says, glancing at me from the driver’s seat. “The view up there is w-worth the effort.” His hand slides from the wheel to mine and squeezes it, warmth seeping into my cold fingers, keeping my ghosts at bay. Despite choosing the trail together, I’ve never been on this one.

“You okay?” he asks gently.

“Yes…sorry. I’m nervous.”

“D-don’t be. It’s just a hike. We’ll have, um, a great time.” The corner of his lips rise, studying my face, and I just give in. I trust Jack. No matter what’s up there, I’ll deal with it.

I can do this.

Jack

Perhaps a hike wasn’t a good idea after all.

Alaska has barely spoken a word since we got out of the car. Weird thing is, every time I took her hand in mine, which was cold as ice by the way, she smiled at me. The same one she’s given me multiple times before. Isn’t she into hiking? Is there more to it I’m not grasping? If I’d known, I would’ve taken an easier path. There’s a bit of climbing and I’m starting to wonder if that’s what’s bothering her.

“Alaska, we c-can stop and go b-b-back to the car, it’s fine by me,” I assure her as she reaches for a rock to help her climb. “Let’s just g-go back, alright? I c-can’t stand—” I pause, “watching you scared like, like that.”

“I’m not scared of climbing. I love climbing,” she declares abruptly, out of breath, once she reaches higher up the path after mounting the block. I follow, always behind her in case she slips. “Water break?” she asks with a smile, adjusting her high ponytail. That thing has been mesmerizing since the beginning, but I try not to stare too much. Makes her little ears look all cute and, nah, I’ll stop there. I’m so fucked already, don’t I know it.

“Here,” I hand her the water bottle, “d-do you need a cup or—” I begin, but she gulps it down, quenching her thirst.