Chapter 16 Este
ESTE
“Are you going to murder me?”
I can’t see Nico’s expression, since it’s pitch black outside save for the beam of his flashlight shining through the forest, but I can imagine his raised brow perfectly. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Okay. It’s just, you see how telling me to get dressed to walk through a dark forest at three a.m. is giving murder vibes, right? And some people would find the hulking reclusive mountain man lumberjack thing you have going on scary.”
“Some people?” I can hear his smile.
“Not me, obviously. Clearly, I’m into it.”
“You should bring that up with your therapist. There’s probably something to unpack there.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s the weird part. Not the way I get off on calling you Daddy and thinking about you doing whatever you want to me.”
Nico snorts and tugs me in closer to him, running his thumb over the back of my gloved hand.
After he calmed down from his nightmare, and I forced him to drink a cup of chamomile tea, neither of us was in the mood to go back to sleep.
I could tell he didn’t want to talk about the nightmare—and he didn’t need to.
It was crystal clear what he was reliving when he screamed Georgie’s name in his sleep.
So, when he suggested we take a walk, I didn’t have to think twice before agreeing.
I would’ve done just about anything to help after seeing him so distressed.
He promised it wasn’t far, but a mile in the snow in the dead of night feels longer than it would on a sunny day.
But he’s holding my hand, so I’m not complaining.
Well. I am a little. It’s fucking freezing.
He insisted I bundle up, and though I’ll never admit it, considering how much I protested, I’m glad.
I clutch Amelia Bearhart against my chest, burrowing my jaw against her to keep my face warm.
She probably didn’t need to come for a walk with us, but I watched Nico packing a sleeping bag, so, on the off chance that we’re sleeping wherever we go, I couldn’t leave her.
“Do you have a gun?”
“Este. I’m not going to murder you.”
“I believe you, but what if someone else tries to murder us? No one would hear us scream.”
“There’s no one else up here, and the road is blocked. If we can’t get down, no one can get up.” Admittedly, I didn’t think of that.
“I passed another cabin driving up here.”
Nico sighs, but it sounds more amused than impatient, and a moment later, he’s backing me against a tree, his arms caging me in.
He has a big backpack on, making him feel even more hulking over me.
“That’s Rora’s cabin. Shay’s girlfriend’s sister.
She’s down in town, but even if she wasn’t, she’s five months pregnant, and highly unlikely to murder anyone. ”
I’ve somewhat forgotten what we’re talking about, because Nico somehow smells better outside.
Like the forest accentuates the woody, natural scent of him.
“I blow on your tea before I give it to you because you burned your tongue the other day. You stubbed your toe on the stairs, and I sanded down the corners of every step to make them rounder. I put rubber mats out on the porch because it gets slippery when it’s wet, and I don’t want you to fall.
Do you really think I’d do anything that would put you in danger, angel? ”
He bends over me, his mouth hovering so close I could reach out and taste him. How is it possible we haven’t kissed yet?
“Este.”
“Hmm?” I can’t seem to stop staring at his lips.
“Do you think I’d do anything to put you in danger?”
Leaving me extremely horny aside… “I suppose not. Wait—did you just say you’ve been blowing on my tea?”
Nico threads our gloved hands together and tugs me away from the tree. “Don’t worry about it.”
The snow is slushy beneath our boots, and there’s no moon peeking through the trees to guide us, but Nico has lived here for almost as long as I’ve been alive, so I trust that he knows his way around.
Though I’m begrudging his “it’s not far” promise a little, it’s not too long before his flashlight beam catches a tall structure up ahead.
“What is that?”
“It’s an old lookout tower. When I moved up here, it hadn’t been maintained for years. After I finished the cabin, I needed a project to focus on, so I asked the rangers if I could fix it up. It’s not much, but I think you’ll like the view.”
We pause at the foot of some stairs that look less stable than either of us, and he squeezes my hand.
“You head up first. I’ll follow.”
“So you can break my fall if these death-trap stairs collapse?” I ask, skeptically as I step up, and the wood groans.
Nico surprises me by slapping my ass. It’s… playful. Kind of weird. Pretty hot. “Exactly.”
I tense up more with every step, especially once I hear Nico on the stairs behind me. But I remind myself that he wouldn’t let me do this if he thought I’d end up hurt.
There’s a sliding lock on the outside of the door, I assume to keep animals out, and Nico reaches over me to open it before nudging me inside.
The room smells like his workshop, fresh wood and stain, but it’s too dark for me to see anything now that Nico’s flashlight is off.
There’s a huge window, and I bet this place glows silver when there’s a full moon.
I hear Nico set his bag down, unzip it, and a few moments later, a soft glow fills the room as he turns on a camping lantern. I should know better than to be surprised by his work, but I can’t stop the gasp that falls from my lips.
“I can’t believe you did all this. It’s amazing.”
I look around as he pulls things out of his backpack: the sleeping bag, a rolled-up blanket, more lanterns, a thermos of tea, his axe… It’s like Mary Poppins’s bag, with how much he has shoved in there.
The shell of this place is nothing more than a wooden box, but he’s made it cozy. There are two mismatched chairs, a bench seat with a small table, built-in cabinets and shelves, and a set of bunk beds.
There are no soft furnishings, which makes sense considering anyone who comes across this place probably has a sleeping bag at a minimum. There are a few books and some maps stacked on the bookshelves, and a bunch of cans and other non-perishable foods.
“I bet this place is popular with hikers.”
“It is. In the spring and fall, mostly. People underestimate the road and get stuck up here when it rains.”
It’s not nearly as cozy as Nico’s cabin, but there are much worse places to be stuck.
I let him pull me toward the window, and follow his gaze to the town below us, illuminated in the unmistakable red and green of Christmas lights, despite the fact that it’s April. Only in Wintermore.
“Wow.” I sit Amelia Bearhart down on the windowsill, place my hands flat on the wood, and lean forward, my nose to the glass. What a view.
I’ve always liked looking down from above—I remember the first time I flew in a cockpit and watched as buildings and people turned to smudges on the ground.
For a moment, when I was up there, everything trivial felt so inconvenient.
The pop quiz score I got in history. My best friend Jules going to the movies with the new girl but not inviting me.
The Steve Madden shoes I saw at the mall that Pops wouldn’t let me get because the heels were too high.
Typical pre-teen shit, and none of it mattered when I was up there.
The second we landed, I remember looking from my dad beside me, to Pops behind us, with the biggest smile on my face, and swearing I was going to be a pilot like them.
I was nine, and I didn’t once regret my decision until I realized Paul was gone and the lives of almost three hundred people were in my hands alone.
But this—looking down at everything… I’ve missed this.
Nico’s hand lands on mine. I look up at him, but he’s staring at Wintermore.
“Can you see Shay’s place from here?”
He nods. “Not at night, though. Shay and Noelle live above their bakery on Main Street.” He traces his finger over the window, following the shape of the long road that cuts straight through town.
“And Georgie…” I wonder if he realizes he stumbles over her name less the more he talks about her.
“We have a bench for her by the reservoir. On really clear days, I can see the bench from here. Sometimes I see Shay sitting there.”
The sadness in his voice is unmissable, and I can’t stop myself from leaning my head on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around his middle. I feel rather than hear his sharp intake of breath.
“We should come back here during the day at some point. I’d like to see it.”
Nico shifts so he can meet my gaze. “You’ll love it. But you can’t see this in the daylight.” He gently grips my chin and tilts my face so I’m looking up at the sky.
I feel the air rush out of me. A million little stars are shining over us, scattered across the sky like confetti. They’re extra bright, since there’s no moon tonight, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen so many.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, and Nico winds his arm around my shoulder. We’re kind of clinging to each other, which more or less sums up how things have been going since I almost passed out on him.
“Do you miss being up there?”
“Yes,” I answer without even thinking. Of course I miss flying.
“Flying isn’t the problem. And I know, statistically, the chance of me ever being in another plane crash is practically nonexistent.
But I can’t handle the responsibility for so many people anymore.
And I can’t bear the thought of putting that responsibility on another pilot.
Like, what if something happened and I got hurt?
I don’t ever want to be the reason someone feels like I do. I don’t know if that makes sense, but—”
“It does.” Nico’s voice is like gravel. He clears his throat, and though I want to look at him, eye contact with the stars is less pressure for conversations like these.
“I haven’t been a passenger since the accident.
Well, since the ambulance ride, I guess, but I don’t remember that.
I tried at the beginning, but I couldn’t do it.
I figured it would get better over time, but it didn’t.
Years ago, before I had the boys, my car broke down on the highway.
I was only a twenty-minute drive from Jackson, but it took me five hours to walk, and I was stuck there for almost a week until the parts came in for my car.
If I’m ever going to be in another crash, it’s going to be my fault.
I wouldn’t wish this guilt on my worst enemy. ”
I hate that he gets it, hate how haunted he sounds. But it’s a relief to be understood. To find someone who understands the deep-rooted terror, regardless of how irrational it may be.
Movement catches my eye, and I gasp. “Look.”
It takes Nico a second to find the shooting star darting across the sky in the sea of sparkles, but I know he’s spotted it when his arms tighten around me. “Make a wish, angel.”
I squeeze my eyes closed. The sensible thing would be to wish for a little mental stability or the ability to do the job I’ve spent my whole life training for. But I’m twenty-six. I have plenty of time to get my life in order. And right now… I wish he would just kiss me.
When I open my eyes, they meet Nico’s. “What did you wish for?” I ask, and his lips quirk in amusement.
“I can’t tell you if I want it to come true.”
“Come on. Just a hint,” I tease.
His pupils flare, and maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear he gets closer to me.
Close enough that I can almost taste the spearmint toothpaste we’ve been sharing for the past few days because I only packed a travel size, since I planned to share with Sloane when she got here.
Close enough that one little gust of wind would be enough to blow me into him.
He stops when our lips are practically touching, just not quite. It’s fucking torture. “You know, I don’t put much stock in wishes on stars—and, for the record, I’m pretty sure that was a plane.”
Probably. It was moving pretty slowly. “We can pretend it was a shooting star, though. We’re good at pretending.”
“Or…” I feel his ragged breath against my lips, and the urge to grasp his flannel and kiss him is painful. “We don’t have to count on stars or planes to make our wishes come true. We could just… make it happen. What did you wish for, angel?”
Oh, he definitely knows. Which is fair, considering I haven’t been able to stop staring at his mouth. I swallow under the intensity of his gaze. Fuck. This is happening. This is really happening.
“Wait.” What the fuck am I doing?