Chapter 90
Ethan
“It’s just a little farther,” I tell Tilda.
She sighs in response. “My feet are literally fine, Ranger Obnoxious.”
I side-eye her, pretending I don’t like the names she makes up for me.
It’s only about half a mile from the cabin to the landing site—which are the coordinates I gave Stoleman for the pickup. But I hate making Tilda walk that far. Her feet might not be bleeding anymore, but they can’t feel great either.
“When we get home, you need to spend a full two days with your feet up.”
Her annoyed exhale is adorable.
Then I realize what I said.
When we get home.
To our own homes.
My jaw works as my steps crunch over downed pine needles.
We’re married. Even if we weren’t dating before this weekend, it doesn’t matter. Because we’re married now. I should be able to live in the same house as my wife. I want to live in the same house as my wife. But… I don’t know how to accomplish that.
“I meant to ask you…” Tilda pauses as I grip her upper arm and help her over a log. “Have you ever done that landing thing before?”
“What landing thing?”
“The no engine landing thing.”
I let my fingers trail down the bare skin of her arm as I lower my hand. Then I tell her the truth. “No.”
She jerks her head in my direction. “No?”
I lift a brow as I look at her. “That surprises you?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Tilda puffs out her cheeks. “You did a good job, so I assumed you’d had practice. I mean, a good job except for that tree.”
I narrow my eyes at the dig. “That tree shouldn’t’ve been there.”
She nods seriously. “It was awfully inconsiderate.”
The backs of our hands brush against each other, leaving my skin tingling. “I have a question too.”
“Hmm?” Tilda’s fingers reach for mine.
I entwine them. “Did that lawyer have a whistle?”
Her laugh is bright and loud. “You heard that?”
I smirk down at her. “Pretty sure the whole building heard that.”
Tilda shakes her head. “Uncle Jack had apparently given it to the lawyer. And even put a line in the will saying… Oh, what was it? Something like, Don’t embarrass me by making Richard use the whistle.
But the lawyer didn’t read that part until after he used it the first time.
” She laughs again. “The whole thing was… I don’t even know.
But Uncle Jack wrote some pretty direct things to the family that were immensely satisfying to hear.
They”—she gestures with her free hand, meaning the whole lot of them—“were not happy about it.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
She smiles up at me. “We’ll get a copy, and I’ll recreate the scene for you.”
I squeeze her fingers.
She squeezes mine back.
And then we step out into the clearing.