Chapter 16
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.
“Thanks,” she says, letting out a soft whimper of satisfaction as she hands me the bottle.
Our hands brush. A second stretches between us as we both realize we’re going to drink from the same bottle and neither of us minds.
I take a few sips and put it back in my backpack.
My hand reaches for her cheek, cupping it, watching her melt into my touch like a cat in the sun.
I’d like very much to steal a kiss from her.
“Then what is it?” I ask softly. “I wan-wanted to-to please you. I’m not sure-”
“I love it. The hike, the date, everything.”
“But something’s bothering you. You’ve been loo-looking far away, like someone’s waiting for you at th-the end of the trail.” Her pupils widen, like a deer caught in headlights. “I’m a cop,” I say simply. A cop observes, studies, anticipates. That’s my job.
“I…I’m afraid of something, but it’s silly.” She shakes her head, running both palms down her face. Calming mechanism. I saw that in PTSD training. It’s not the first time I’ve seen her do that.
“I won’t judge. I p-p-promise,” I assure her, my voice calm. She hesitates.
“Is there… Is there ice up there?” Her voice falters, her teeth catching her lower lip. My thumb brushes over it, stilling the motion.
“Don’t think there is.” I frown. “Nah. Last time I came there was n-no ice to be found.” Is it some kind of trigger?
“I…I don’t like ice.”
“Okay.”
“At all.”
“Right. We’ll be c-ca-careful to avoid it then.”
“No, Jack.” Her hand rests on my chest, and my heart pumps hard under the fabric.
“I can’t touch ice. It’s… I can’t.” I’m guessing the incident that happened to her was connected to that, and it became a trigger.
That’s my guess. But is it the truth? Plenty of questions bubble in me, but I wait.
I know my girl needs time to confide. She’s not an open book.
At least not to everyone. That, I get, because I’m the same.
She sighs, and I almost see liquid courage fill her dilated pupils as she speaks softly.
“What happened to me, what I did…” She shows me the stitches on her fingers.
“I tried crushing ice with my fists.” I keep my mouth shut.
Listening. She tried breaking ice with her fists.
No wonder she had that many stitches. My chest tightens thinking about Alaska desperately trying to break the ice.
I wish I could’ve held her in my arms then.
Or crushed the ice myself so she didn’t have to.
“I…” Tears well in her eyes. “Ice reminds me of it now,” she murmurs, her gaze locked on mine like she’s revealing her worst-kept secret.
“If I touch it, I…I don’t know what I’ll do.
I don’t know what will happen.” A thick tear falls on her cheek and rests on her delicate jawline.
I wipe it with my thumb and move closer to her, wrapping my arms around her until she’s fully held.
Her head rests in the crook of my neck as I drop a kiss on her hair.
Alaska’s scent is like apple pie, fall, and Christmas movies all mixed together.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, not pushing for more and giving her the space she needs.
My heart pounds so hard under my vest, I know she feels it, considering how close we are, but I don’t care.
I want her to know that she’s the reason it’s beating like this.
I clench my jaw, looking at the trail ahead.
Which way should I take? The city and the promotion?
Or stay in Lakeside and face whatever demons are burning Alaska from the inside out?
She fidgets in my arms…and then relaxes completely.
I hold her tight, like she’d disappear if I let go.
She cries in my arms for an hour.
Alaska