17. Elora
17
ELORA
36.1716° N, 115.1391° W
I ’ve never been afraid of dying because I know we all eventually take our last breath, whether we’re ready or not. It’s the one inevitable thing that no one can avoid. But standing in the air conditioned room of the hangar Roman brought me to and watching Billy—who might be three years older than me—place a picnic basket into one of the compartments in the helicopter I will be boarding, I realize I’ve never been afraid of dying because I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve been faced with the possibility of actually losing my life.
“You ready?” Roman asks, walking up to join me at the window and wrapping his hand around my hip.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I tell him, watching Billy close the compartment and start heading our way.
“You can.”
“Do you know how many news stories there are every year about helicopters or other small aircraft crashing unexpectedly for one reason or another?”
“Do you know how many times small aircraft and helicopters take off and land without incident?” he asks, and I look up at him. “I would cut off my own arm before I ever put your life in danger, Elora. I promise you’ll be safe.”
“Roman.”
“Just trust me.”
Trust him. I’ve easily done that since the first night we met, and I’ve never regretted giving him my trust so freely.
“Are you two ready?” Billy asks, poking his head through the door, and I look at him as fear like I have never felt before tightens around my insides, making it difficult to breathe.
“It’s up to you,” Roman says quietly, squeezing my hip.
I swallow. The choice is mine. I can say yes right now, or I can say no and maybe regret not going. I look at the pilot once more. He introduced himself to us when we arrived, then explained he flew for the Army and had hundreds of hours of flight time. I should feel safer with that knowledge, but I don’t.
I’m torn, but not wanting my own fear to get the best of me and miss out on a moment of living, I let out a breath.
“Ready,” I say quietly. Roman’s hand tightens around my hip in silent approval before he lets his hand fall away so he can thread our fingers together.
The walk to the helicopter is torturously slow, and each step feels like I’m walking through quicksand. Once I’m in my seat and buckled in, I check my straps a dozen times, even after Roman checked them himself multiple times before getting into his own seat.
With a pair of headphones on, I watch Billy get into the seat in front of us, and my heart thunders as the blades of the chopper come to life. The sound is so loud that it even blocks out the blood rushing through my ears. When the aircraft starts to lift off the ground, Roman’s hand finds mine, and I lock my fingers around his and squeeze so tight I worry that I’m going to hurt him.
Try as I might, I don’t hear a word Billy says as he talks through the headpiece he’s wearing while we fly over Vegas, pointing out some of the biggest landmarks. I only build up the courage once to look out the window, but once is enough for me to realize how high we are in the air and how far we have to fall if something goes horribly wrong.
It feels like hours have passed before the helicopter starts to fly closer to the ground, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight as my stomach bottoms out and hear the blades begin to slow.
“Hey.” Fingers touch my cheek, and I open my eyes to find Roman in front of me. “We’re here.”
Here. My eyes go over his shoulder out his window to the landscape beyond, and my lips part in awe. Past the dirt and tumbleweed covered ground are jagged mountains in red and brown stone that look like they belong on Mars. It’s breathtakingly beautiful with the blue sky above.
“Do you need any help getting out?” Billy asks.
“We’ve got it,” Roman tells him without looking in his direction.
“All right, when you return from your tour, lunch will be ready,” he replies before exiting the helicopter.
“You okay?” Roman asks quietly, unhooking my belts.
“Now that we’re on the ground, yes.”
“I’m proud of you for not screaming.”
“How’s your hand?”
“Not broken.” He grins, leaning in to touch his mouth to mine before he gets out and helps me down from my seat.
As my feet hit the solid ground, I look around in amazement. It feels like we’ve stepped into some type of simulation. Nothing looks real, not with the lack of human life all around us and the background of nature in muted tones.
Taking my hand, Roman walks me toward a waiting SUV and a guy standing by the open back door.
“Mr. King,” the man greets, and I look up at Roman, expecting him to tell the guy to call him Roman since the formal greeting feels out of place. But when I see the look on Roman’s face, and he dips his chin instead of saying hello, I know he won’t suggest that. I also know that if I didn’t know him like I do, I would probably call him Mr. King as well.
Once we are seated in the cool dark interior of the vehicle, he reaches past me for my seat belt to hook me in, then grabs my hand.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Are you taking me to a spacecraft that will launch us into orbit?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t remind you that I hate surprises.” That gets me a smile, and my body instantly relaxes seeing it.
As we drive, I look out the window at the landscape, the colors and vibrancy distorted through the tinted glass of the windows. I want to ask to roll down the window, but I know it’s too hot outside for that request. When we arrive in an open area with a jagged rock formation in the distance, we park, and the driver gets out, opening the door for us to exit.
“Would you like me to come with you?” the driver asks when Roman gets out, then turns to take my hand and help me down.
“I think we can manage,” Roman mutters, linking his fingers through mine.
“Thank you, though,” I add because it’s obvious Roman has a difficult time using or accepting words of gratitude.
“Any time. See you when you get back.” He gives me a small smile before getting back into the vehicle.
With the sun blazing above us, we walk up a steep incline toward a jagged hole in the edge of the rock face. The sneakers Roman insisted I wear now make sense. When we reach the hole in the rock that looks like a crack going down the middle, I follow him inside without question. Surrounded by red stone with only a stream of light seeping through above us, the air is much cooler than it is outside.
“This is… This is amazing,” I whisper in awe as the stone opens up in the middle of a cavern, where twisted walls of red sandstone reach up toward the blue sky above us. “Have you been here before?” I twirl in a circle, trying to take everything in, even knowing it’s impossible to capture every detail.
“No, but I read about Secret Canyon as a kid, about how the wind and rain were able to carve this place out of the stone. I’ve always wanted to see it in person but never had the time,” he says quietly, and I stop to glance at him and find a look of wonder on his face that I wish I could capture with my phone.
“Thank you for bringing me.” I walk toward him and wrap my arms around his waist, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull me in tight. “It’s beautiful.” I lift my eyes to his and am amazed to find they look even brighter in here.
“I told you you’d like this surprise.”
I roll my eyes, then look around again as he laughs softly. I let him go so we can continue walking, my fingers brushing the stone that is both smooth and rough. When we reach another open area, this one smaller than the last but just as extraordinary, I stop to look around. There is nowhere else to go except back to where we came from, and I instantly regret not thinking to bring a piece of my mom with us today.
“My mom would have loved this,” I say quietly, my voice seeming to echo off the walls surrounding us. I turn to look at Roman over my shoulder and find a familiar small bottle in his hand. My gaze flies up to his.
“From the pictures I remember, I thought you’d want to share this place with her, so I brought this just in case,” he says quietly, and tears fill my eyes.
“Roman.”
“Please don’t cry again.”
“Stop being so sweet.” I walk toward him and lean up on my tiptoes to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Thank you.” I don’t wait for his reply because I know it’s not coming. Taking the small bottle from him, I look around.
“How about there?” he asks, and I turn to see him pointing into a dark corner where there is a single ray of sunlight beaming down from above.
“Perfect,” I whisper, walking toward the light, and drop to my knees to start digging a hole in the red dirt. And just like when we were at the cabin, he drops down next to me to help.
When the hole is a few inches deep, I open the lid and dump the contents inside, then cover the hole and look up at the sunbeam. I don’t cry. Letting go is getting a little easier as each day passes, and I know that has to do with Roman. Having him with me has made me appreciate this journey and this life a little more. I still miss my mom and wish she was here, but the pain I carried around for so long no longer feels like it’s suffocating me.
Standing, I dust off my hands, and he does the same before pulling me into his arms. I squeeze my eyes closed and hug him back, burying my face in his chest. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. As fucked up as it is, I am,” he says, smoothing his hand up my back and tangling his fingers in my hair. “Having you has made everything a little more bearable.”
“Ditto,” I whisper and feel him laugh. “Do you think Val would have liked it here?”
His chest expands on a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“Good.” I tip my head back, and he dips his chin to meet my gaze. “I wish I could have met him.”
“Me too, though he would have flirted with you just to annoy me,” he says, and something passes through his eyes that I’m not quick enough to read before it’s gone. “Are you ready to go?”
“If you are.”
“You haven’t eaten today.”
“I had coffee.” I force a smile, wondering what that look was about.
“That’s not food.” He lets me go, only to take my hand. I glance back at that beam of light one last time before I follow him out of the cavern and through the winding corridor to the exit.
When we get outside, he keeps a tight grip on my hand as we make our way back down toward the SUV, and even though he hasn’t said a word, I can tell something is off. The heaviness around us wasn’t there until I mentioned Val and he spoke about him flirting with me. A million questions float through my mind as we drive back to where the helicopter let us off, but every time I look at him, I swallow them down one by one.
When we arrive at the helicopter pad, he helps me out, and Billy greets us at the door holding two glasses of sparkling liquid I assume is champagne. “Did you enjoy your time?”
“It was amazing,” I tell him, accepting a glass.
“I’m happy to hear that.” He looks at Roman, and I bite my lip when he doesn’t speak. “Lunch is ready if you two are.”
“Thank you.” I draw in a breath and follow him to a white-linen-covered table set for two with fancy-looking sandwiches and what looks like homemade chips and cookies on a plate in the middle. The table is placed close to what I realize is the edge of a cliff that overlooks a winding river I didn’t notice before.
When I’m seated and Roman is across from me, I wait until Billy wanders away to nudge his foot with mine. “Talk to me.”
His eyes meet mine as he unfolds his napkin, placing it on his lap. “Eat, Elora. You didn’t have breakfast.”
“I’m not eating until you talk to me.”
“There is nothing to talk about.”
“God, you’re so stubborn.” I let out a sigh of frustration and pick up my napkin, snapping it open. “At times, I’m able to convince myself that I know you so well, but then I’m reminded—like right now—that I don’t know you at all.”
“You know me better than anyone.”
“Then that is really sad, Roman, because I know nothing about your life in New York, and you never talk about your family or friends.”
“Do I need to for you to know me?”
“You said you want me to go to New York with you. What would I be walking into?”
“You’d be walking into a fucking mess.”
“What does that mean?” I whisper, and his jaw gets tight. “You know everything about my life, Roman, and I hate that things, once again, feel lopsided with you.”
“Can we just enjoy this meal and the view?” he asks softly, and my ribs squeeze tight around my heart.
“Fine.” I drop my eyes from him, feeling beyond disappointed that he’s closing me out.
“Elora—”
“It’s okay. I’m not going to push you to tell me anything you don’t want to.” I pick up my sandwich with blackened chicken, mozzarella, tomatoes, and a pesto mayo sauce that I’m sure any other time would be delicious. But I taste nothing as I look out at the view, and the man across from me sits in silence. When I’m finished, I get up with a cookie and my glass and wander toward the edge of the cliff, leaving Roman behind, needing just a few minutes to myself to think.
As I look out over the canyon below, I think about Tyler—the only relationship I have to pull experience from. That experience is limited. Since I knew him my whole life, there were never any unknowns. He never had to tell me about his past, his family, or his friends. I knew everything there was to know before we even started dating.
Which makes me question if I should expect Roman to lay his entire past at my feet. I don’t know how much grace to give him or how much time needs to pass before I should expect him to open up. Heck, he didn’t even tell me that tomorrow is his birthday. I wouldn’t have known that if we didn’t have to pass over our driver’s licenses when we signed the consent forms to get on the helicopter and the girl making copies hadn’t told him a “happy early birthday.”
I come out of my head when he walks up behind me, and my muscles bunch when he wraps his arms around me.
“The night Val overdosed, the woman I dated off and on for years told him that she was pregnant.” My insides freeze, and I start to look at him, but his hold on me tightens. “The kid isn’t mine; she and I hadn’t been together for months, but Val didn’t know that. All he knew was that I’d find out he’d been sleeping with Molly behind my back.”
“Roman,” I whisper, my stomach churning.
“When Val wound up on life support, my sisters confronted the friends he’d been with the night he overdosed, looking for answers, because they knew, like we all did, that Val liked to party, but he was always careful. That’s when his friends told them about Molly being pregnant. When my family confronted Molly, she told them the same thing—that she was pregnant, and the kid was Val’s.
“Fast forward a few weeks to the doctors telling us there was no way Val would recover and me insisting he be taken off life support.” My eyes slide closed. “They all thought I was angry about what he had done, not that I knew with every fiber of my being that he would have fought to be set free if he’d been able to speak for himself.”
His chin comes to rest on the top of my head, and my eyes open as he says softly, “I wish he’d talked to me, that he trusted me. But more than anything, I wish I would have realized he’d been in love with her all along.”
“How could you know that?”
“Looking back, there were signs, but I was too self-centered to see them. And I know he never said anything because he didn’t want to cause a rift between us. He assumed, like everyone else, that I would marry her one day.”
“Was she in love with him?”
“I don’t know,” he replies quietly, and my heart hurts even more than it already did. It’s weird to hope she was in love with his brother, but I hope that she was. I hope he had that from her.
“Have you spoken to her?”
“No. She’s called a few times, but I have nothing to say to her.”
“It’s not her fault either, and I’m sure she’s wrapped in guilt over what happened,” I tell him quietly.
“It’s difficult not to lay some of that blame on her. She could have talked to me. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers, and she knew our relationship wasn’t going anywhere. If she told me that she wanted to date Val?—”
“Just because you’re saying it doesn’t mean it would have been as easy as that,” I cut him off gently. “You’re looking at the situation after losing your brother, not him being alive and her telling you that she’s interested in him.”
“Yeah,” he concedes quietly, and I cover his hands with mine.
“Is she still…?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t asked anyone who would know.”
“When was the last time you talked to your family?”
“I spoke to my grandmother a few days ago. She said things have calmed down and is trying to convince me to come home. My sisters have sent a few texts. I haven’t opened any of them.”
“They’re probably worried about you. What happened had to have been a lot for everyone, and now they’ve had time to think about the situation without it being blurred by the loss of your brother. Maybe just check the messages and text them back to let them know you’re okay.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay,” I whisper, not pushing any more because I know it won’t help, not in this situation.
His hand slides up my arm before crossing over my chest, then his fingers wrap around my jaw, and he turns my face until our eyes lock.
“Thank you.” The sincerity in his eyes and the emotion behind those two words cause my nose to sting.
“You’re welcome,” I whisper, and he presses his forehead to the side of mine before lifting his lips to the spot it had been resting.
“Are you ready to get back to Vegas?”
“Do you mean am I ready to get back in the helicopter?”
“Yeah.” I hear the smile in his voice, and I relax into him.
“Do you think we could walk from here?”
“We could try. It might take us a while.”
“How long?”
“A couple of days.”
“Darn.” I sigh, and he laughs. “I guess we should go in the helicopter then.”
“It would probably be smart.” He loosens his hold on me, then wraps his arm around my waist and turns us in the direction of Billy, who hops out of the cockpit when he sees us coming in his direction. I look over at where the table was and notice it’s gone; there’s no evidence we were ever here.
“Thank you for lunch, Billy. It was amazing,” I tell him when he gets close.
“You’re welcome. Glad you enjoyed it. Are you two ready to head back?”
“Yeah,” Roman says, leading me to the back door and opening it before Billy can.
“All right.” He stops behind Roman and waits for us both to get inside before he closes the door behind us.
“Let me do that.” Roman squats in front of me when I start to buckle myself in.
“Thank you,” I tell him when he’s done, and he lifts his eyes to mine and touches my cheek before getting into his seat and buckling in. When the blades start up, I latch onto his hand and start to squeeze my eyes closed, but stop when his fingers tighten around mine, grabbing my attention.
“Keep your eyes open, Elora, or you’ll miss the best part,” he says quietly, and I bite my lip as we lift off the ground. My stomach drops, and my heart pounds, but I keep my eyes open as we fly over the Grand Canyon and the dam that feeds water into Vegas.
When we get back to the city, I take in the sites with Roman’s hand wrapped tight around mine. The view is spectacular from up here, but it’s not what makes me memorize the moment. It’s being with him with my eyes wide open, living life to the fullest.