Chapter 27 Gregory
Gregory
The helicopter’s rotors cut through the evening air before I hear the machine itself. That distinctive thwop-thwop-thwop that means our bubble is about to burst.
Though we’re dressed now, Sorrel’s still glowing from what we just did. Her lips are swollen from my mouth, her hair is a mess from my hands, and there’s a mark on her throat I put there deliberately.
Fucking gorgeous.
She’s mine and everyone’s about to know it.
“They’re here,” she whispers, and I catch the tremor in her voice.
I pull her against me one last time. “Hey. We’re okay. Remember?”
She nods against my chest but her fingers are digging into my sweater like she’s drowning.
The helicopter lands on the pad we spent hours clearing this morning. All that miserable silence while we shoveled, both of us too proud and terrified to bridge the gap we’d created. What a waste of time that was.
Never again.
I grab our bags and she follows me outside into the rotor wash. The cold hits like a slap but I barely feel it. My body is still running hot from claiming her.
Mountain Rescue crew emerges first. Two guys in technical gear who look vaguely disappointed we’re not half-dead.
Then Marcel steps down and his face does something I’ve never seen before. His jaw actually drops.
I must look different.
I know I look different.
The man who arrived here two weeks ago was a burned-out shell running on rage and scotch. The man standing here now is...
Fuck if I know what I am.
But I’m not that anymore.
“Mr. Falk.” Marcel recovers his composure but his eyes keep flicking between me and Sorrel. “Thank god you’re safe. We’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“I know. It’s good to see you.” I clasp his shoulder and he flinches before catching himself. Like he’s waiting for me to fire him or tell him he fucked something up.
Which, fair enough.
In fifteen years I’ve never greeted him with anything warmer than a curt nod.
I’ve certainly never touched him unless it was to physically steer him toward whatever corporate fire needed extinguishing.
Christ, I’ve been an asshole.
Marcel’s eyes dart to Sorrel once again, then back to me, like he’s trying to piece together exactly what happened in that chalet to transform his perpetually furious boss into someone capable of warmth.
Because the Gregory Falk he knows would be screaming about the delayed pickup, demanding explanations for every communication failure, and already strategizing damage control.
That guy feels like someone I used to know.
Someone I’m not particularly interested in being anymore.
The crew starts loading Sorrel’s gear. Her pathetic duffel bag and the broken equipment that stranded her here in the first place. The equipment failure that might be the best thing that ever happened to me.
There’s something I still need to do.
And I need to do it now.
Before we’re in the air.
Before Marcel and the crew and the entire fucking world gets between us.
I pull Sorrel aside, away from the helicopter’s noise. She comes willingly but there’s fear in her eyes.
“I have to tell you something before we leave,” I begin, my breath misting.
Her face crumples and tears start forming. “I understand. What you said earlier was just pillow talk. And it’s okay. I get it. But you should know...” She bites her lower lip. “I hate goodbyes.”
Jesus Christ.
She thinks I’m ending this.
I frame her face with both hands, forcing her to look at me. “It’s not goodbye. I told you, we do everything together now. It wasn’t pillow talk. But listen. I wasn’t sure when to tell you this, but the timing has to be now. I can’t delay any longer.”
She’s crying openly and I want to murder whoever taught her she wasn’t worth fighting for.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About everything.” I take a breath. This is harder than any board presentation I’ve ever given. “I’m going to fund an environmental restoration research initiative. Major universities. Five-year grants. Real money behind real change.”
Her eyes go wide.
“I need a director,” I continue. “Someone brilliant who won’t let me cut corners. Who’ll call me out when I’m wrong. Who understands the science and the stakes.” I pause. “Someone who already told me my life’s work is destroying the planet and wasn’t afraid to make me face what that means.”
“Gregory...” Her voice breaks.
“Move to Manhattan. Or I’ll move to Boulder.
Or we’ll figure out something in between.
But Sorrel, I want you in my life. Every day.
Building something that matters together.
” My hands are shaking. When was the last time my hands shook?
“The job is yours if you want it. But more than that, I want us. I want a future we build together. Interested?”
She’s staring at me like I’ve just offered her the moon.
Maybe I have.
She launches herself at me so hard I stagger back a step. Her arms lock around my neck and she’s kissing me like we’re not standing in front of Marcel and a rescue crew. Like the helicopter’s not waiting. Like nothing else in the world matters except this.
I kiss her back with everything I have. My hands slide into her hair and I hold her against me and I don’t give a single fuck who’s watching.
When we finally break apart, we’re both gasping.
“Yes,” she says. “To all of it, yes.”
Relief crashes through me so hard my knees nearly buckle. “Yeah?”
“Is this what you’ve been trying to tell me all day?” she presses. “You kept looking at me like you wanted to say something.”
“That’s basically it,” I lie.
I also wanted to tell you I love you.
Still do.
Another time, I guess.
When I build up the courage.
“Okay. Okay. This is amazing. Thank you for the opportunity. But... I’m finishing my dissertation, first.” She’s grinning through tears. “And I’m keeping my apartment for now. And you’re learning to cook properly without supervision.”
I’m laughing. “Deal. Anything else?”
She grins mischievously. “Well if you’re offering... some new snow boots would be nice.”
My expression softens and I pull her close again. “I’ll buy you anything you want for the rest of your life if you let me.”
Her eyes search mine. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Good.”
We board the helicopter and I keep her hand locked in mine. Marcel sits across from us, clearly processing the transformation. The crew straps in and the machine lifts off.
As we rise, Sorrel turns to watch the chalet shrink below. That massive house where she arrived desperate and cold, where I was hiding from my own destruction.
Where everything changed.
I squeeze her hand and she leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder.
Marcel clears his throat. “Sir, I took the liberty of organizing your messages by priority. The board situation is complicated.” He hands me an iPad. “The lawyers need an immediate response on the Brazil settlement. And the media requests are overwhelming.”
I glance at the screen. Subject lines scroll past.
Board Meeting.
Brazil Settlement Negotiations.
Falk Rare Earth Stock Drops 23%.
A week ago this would have consumed me. Would have sent me into a rage spiral of damage control and strategic warfare.
Now?
I look at Sorrel curled against my side. Her eyes are closed and there’s the faintest smile on her lips. She’s exhausted. She’s been through hell because of me, with me, and she still chose me.
“Tomorrow,” I tell Marcel, setting the iPad down.
Marcel’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline. In fifteen years, I’ve never put anything before business. Not holidays. Not relationships. Not my own health.
“Sir, the board vote is in one week. If you don’t respond, they’ll interpret silence as--”
“Then they can interpret it however the fuck they want.” I growl. “I said tomorrow.”
Marcel nods slowly, and I catch something like approval in his expression. Or maybe shock. Hard to tell.
Sorrel shifts against me and her hand finds mine again. Our fingers intertwine naturally, like they’ve been doing it for years instead of days.
The helicopter cuts through the darkening sky toward Aspen. Toward airports and cars and the real world that’s been waiting.
Tomorrow I’ll deal with the board.
The lawsuits.
The media circus.
Tonight I’m keeping the only promise that matters. The one I made to the woman sleeping against my shoulder.
Together.
We do everything together now.
The chalet disappears behind us and I don’t look back.