Chapter 12
Alec
Clem
photo attached
The photo’s grainy, overexposed, and somehow still beautiful. She’s barefoot in a garage, with a pair of pink dumbbells in hand.
Clem
Wait does that ancient brick even receive photos?
Alec
yes.
how r feet?
Clem
Woah, gotta pay first!
JK
I told you, I’ve had worse, camp buddy.
Alec
dont push too hard.
cant redo training sched again
Clem
I won’t. Your turn.
Alec
***
Clem
Send a picture back. Complete trust and communication, remember?
I stare at the message like it’s a ticking time bomb.
I’m not a selfie guy. Finn and Nadra take all our photos. Last time Finn asked me to take one, I almost dropped his phone into a ravine.
I could ignore it. But I did ask her to check in with me after her workout, and it would be unfair if I didn’t do the same.
I flip the camera to my face and immediately shut my phone. Fuck, this is embarrassing. I only know one person who could help.
Alec
how do u take a good selfie
Finn
OH MY GOD
This for the wife?
Alec
nvm
delete this
Finn
You entered the competition?
If you get married before me, I’m letting you know now I’m setting the bar very high for bachelor parties
Alec
I told you it’s Bill Lennox’s granddaughter
she needs the prize money
Finn
Should I be jealous you never tried to send any selfies to me?
photo attached
Guilt knots in my gut at the picture of him in the hospital bed.
Alec
she reminds me of you
Finn
so she’s devastatingly handsome and impossible not to love?
Alec
no. stubborn, loud, ignores instructions
Finn
Ah, if you don’t snag her up, I may need to take her on a date
Alec
If you wanted to you could.
Finn
Shut up. You’re obviously hella obsessed if you're taking photos for the girl.
A good pic is simple, just be yourself. Smile.
But if you’re sexting her, hold something in front of your junk. Girls don’t wanna see that unless specifically asked
Alec
shut up
blocking you
I toss the phone face down on the bed. Immediately, I pick it back up.
What the fuck am I acting like a teenage boy for? I’m a grown man. This is normal behavior. I don’t need to sit here and debate the moral weight of sending a photo to a beautiful woman.
Attraction is easy. I’ve never had an issue finding ways to dull an edge or burn off the adrenaline after a summit day. Clem is not some climber in base camp, not a one-night fix to keep the cold out of my sleeping bag.
And even if she were, I’m not that guy. I don’t have the energy for a meaningless hookup right now, let alone with someone like her. She’s too untouched by the world, too quick-witted, and she reminds me too much of my sisters, the way she pokes at me, testing for cracks.
I stare at her last message until the screen times out.
Complete trust and communication.
Fine.
I flip the camera toward my face. The lighting is bad, my shoulders look weird, and my expression screams hostage situation. I adjust. Shift my weight. Try again. The result is worse. My jaw looks like it’s trying to flee my face.
This is ridiculous.
I run a hand through my hair, give it one more go in the mirror. I lean against the doorframe. Click. No. Absolutely not.
I exhale, glance over my shoulder, and catch the cluttered side table in the corner. Half-burned candle, stack of mail, and a lamp that’s older than me.
If Clementine’s going to boss me around about complete communication, I can at least make our deal useful.
I tilt the phone, frame the table, and snap the photo.
Alec
needs your decorating expertise.
I hit Send before I can think about it too much.
It’s not a mirror selfie.
It’s not my face.
It’s safe.
And yet…my pulse still ticks a little faster as I wait for her to see it.
Clem
…That’s a lamp.
Alec
u r my decorator
ur problem now
Clem
I wanted a selfie.
Alec
u got pic
Clem
Of a lamp…
Alec
ugly. needs fixing.
Clem
Exactly my type then!
I picture her moving things around in here, her skin brushing against mine as she makes space for something better. Something she picked.
It’s just about the lamp.
Still, the thought sticks. Her laugh in the kitchen. The way she bites the inside of her cheek when she’s holding back. I let the image drift with me as I set my phone beside the fireplace, roll onto my back, and close my eyes.
For a moment, it’s her voice I hear in the quiet.
I push Finn up the ramp, his chair rattling against the wood I measured three times and cut wrong anyway. He teases me for overbuilding, telling me I’ve made it sturdy enough to hold a truck.
His laugh is oxygen.
For the first time in months, my chest loosens.
I did it. He’s here.
The main room glows with firelight. Curtains ripple though the windows are shut. On the coffee table, two tumblers wait, beads of condensation sliding down the glass. Finn stands from his chair, as if he were never injured, and we clink them together.
He’s home.
He’s whole.
Then the walls move. They inhale, slow and deep, the logs expanding against one another with a groan. Dust drifts down like snow.
Finn frowns up at the ceiling. “That supposed to happen?”
“It’s fine.”
Another creak, longer this time. The windows bulge outward, flexing like brittle lungs too weak to hold air.
“Alec…you said you fixed this place.”
“I did,” I start, but a crack slices through the beam above us, splitting wood like bone.
The ceiling sags. A chunk of plaster shears off, exploding against the floor. Finn falls. “You said it was safe. You said you had my back.”
“I swear—” I lunge for him, but the lodge lurches sideways, tilting like a slope. The floor heaves under me. Every step pulls me farther away.
Finn claws at the wood, dragging himself forward, but the boards crumble to black beneath his hands.
“Alec!” His voice isn’t laced with pain but betrayal. He’s slipping backward, vanishing inch by inch.
I sprint. The walls fold like paper. The floor yawns open, inhaling the rug, the floors—him. His screams ricochet off the collapsing beams.
He’s right there, with his arms reaching and his fingers spread, but the roof plunges between us. A beam splits the room in half. I dive, shouting his name.
Finn’s eyes lock on mine. “Don’t let me fall again. Please, Alec. Don’t let me fall.”
The words gut me. I throw my body against the rubble, heave, claw, and fight like I did on the mountain, every tendon snapping, lungs bursting. But the lodge keeps breaking, keeps falling, keeps burying him deeper.
And then the weight hits. A crushing silence, absolute and heavy.
And through it, I hear him sob.
Finn has never sobbed.
I can’t reach him.
I wake so hard I think I’ve actually fallen.
It takes me a moment to remember where I am.
Misthaven.
Finn’s lodge.
Still standing. Still safe. For now.