Chapter 20
Riverwalk is everything and nothing like Nora remembers.
The roads are the same, as are the shops, the cars. The grocery store is still packed with Friday-evening shoppers, the neon lights of the River Run sign still flash over a parking lot full of trucks, only now the streets are also lined with snowbanks taller than her car, each window frosted and glowing in the early-winter darkness. Lights twinkle around most of the buildings, and each street lamp hosts a holiday-themed decoration.
Ten minutes after Nora has pulled into the River Run parking lot, she still hasn’t left her car.
What if Dani’s mind has changed? What if, in the months that Nora has been gone, Dani moved on from their brief relationship? What if—worst of all—she’s found someone else?
There’s only one way to find out. After a few more minutes of solitary panic, Nora manages to open the car door and slide her way across the frozen pavement—no matter the outcome, she’ll never forgive herself if she doesn’t at least try.
The moment she steps through the door into the warm bar, she’s assaulted by sense memories. It smells exactly the same—beer, old smoke, and pizza from next door. The noise hasn’t changed either, the country song on the jukebox almost drowned out by the yells and cheers of the regulars watching a hockey game on the TV over the bar. Even Jenny is the same, barely looking away from the screen when Nora walks in.
“If you want a drink, get it yourself. I’m busy.”
Nora laughs softly. Her eyes track toward the back of the bar, where Dani’s usual table is, but someone sees her first.
“Nora?”
The deep voice that calls out isn’t the one Nora is hoping for, but it’s familiar. Sitting not far from the pool table is Owen, with Ryan and Mila crowding the table around him, and he’s staring at her with his mouth agape. In fact, they all are.
Nora shifts nervously from foot to foot as Owen stands up. She hadn’t been around to see their full reactions to her secret getting out, and she hadn’t said goodbye to anyone besides Dani. For all she knows, they could ask to have her thrown out of the bar.
Owen strides forward, his face breaking out into a genuine grin as he scoops her into a tight hug. “It is you! What are you doing here? We thought you left us for good!”
Nora wants to answer, but the truth catches in her throat as Owen lifts her an inch or two off the ground. Luckily Mila appears next, hugging Nora somehow even harder, and in the excitement of seeing her friends, the burden is taken from her for a minute.
The distraction doesn’t last long. Mila is the one to ask the question again as everyone settles back into their seats. “Seriously, what are you doing here? Not that we aren’t happy to see you! But we didn’t think you’d be back. Like…ever.”
Nora sits gingerly on the edge of the chair Owen pulls out for her. “I can’t say I expected a happy reception.”
“What, because of the whole secret-identity thing?” Mila says, scoffing. “Pfft. As if we care.”
It’s a performative kind of nonchalance, but Nora frowns. It’s a complete turnaround from the faces she saw when Kayla had spilled the secret, and Nora has a suspicion as to why. “Dani talked to you all, didn’t she?”
“Yeah. She helped us see your side of it,” Owen says, ruffling Ryan’s fluffy hair. “Especially this one.”
“I’m truly sorry, Ryan,” Nora says quietly. “I know you more than anyone must have been—”
“I got over it,” Ryan says, holding up a hand. “I wish you had just told us yourself, but I understand why you didn’t. You were afraid we’d hold your dad’s actions against you.”
“And that’s exactly what we ended up doing,” Mila says.
Ryan clears his throat. “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t take it so well at first.”
For a few seconds, Nora is speechless. On the TV behind the bar, one of the hockey teams scores—the regulars all groan in displeasure.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I know I deserved your anger,” Nora says, still half convinced that this is an elaborate prank and she’s going to be thrown bodily out of the building. She scratches at the table with her thumbnail. “I came prepared for you to pelt me with tomatoes.”
“Dani basically stood up in Town Hall to lecture everyone about not judging you too harshly,” Owen says, laughing a little. “Sarah was stubborn for a while, but Naomi told us all about how different CromTech is now. That helped a lot.”
Nora gnaws at her lower lip. That sounds like something Dani would do. “It’s Dani I came to see, actually.”
Owen shares a knowing look with Ryan.
“Coulda guessed that,” Ryan murmurs.
“Is she here tonight?” Nora asks hopefully, looking around the space as if Dani might appear from behind the jukebox.
Owen shakes his head. “We haven’t seen much of her lately. Even Sarah only sees her at work and at home. She disappears most nights and doesn’t come back until late.”
There’s no specific implication in Owen’s voice, but Nora’s mind jumps to the most obvious conclusion. The idea of it makes her feel like the floor has disappeared under her feet.
“Is she…seeing someone?” Nora asks quietly, her stomach turning even as she says it.
She’s spared too much stress by Mila’s reaction—a loud snort that erupts as soon as the words leave Nora’s mouth.
Mila turns red when all eyes turn to her.
“What?” Mila says, pouring herself another drink from the communal pitcher. “It’s a hilarious question. Dani’s still too hung up on you to even look at anyone else.”
The relief that floods Nora is like a drug. It assuages a fear she’s had since the day she left—that her perception of their relationship this summer had been more one-sided than she remembers.
“Then where could she possibly—”
Before she’s even finished her thought, Nora knows exactly where Dani is. She’s at the same place Nora’s idle daydreams have taken her in every spare moment since September, but Nora has no idea how she’s going to get there. Her Porsche doesn’t even have winter tires.
“Is there any way to get to the old tree house out on 3rd Line with this much snow?” Nora asks suddenly.
She gets three blank faces.
“The tree house?” Ryan says, frowning over the rim of his beer glass. “Why would you need to get out there? I haven’t been since we were kids.”
Owen seems to be coming to an understanding more quickly than the rest. He’s already standing up, grabbing a bulky helmet from under the table, and tossing it to Nora. “I’ve got my sled. I can get us there.”
“Hey!” Ryan protests as Nora holds the helmet with unsure hands. “That’s my helmet! How am I supposed to get home?”
“I’m coming back for you, sweetie. Calm down.” Owen stoops to give his boyfriend a solid kiss on the cheek, and Ryan smiles complacently as Owen ushers a confused Nora outside.
“I don’t see what a sled is going to do for us,” Nora says. Owen puts his helmet on and raises the visor—he’s led them to a huge, shiny machine at the rear of the parking lot, and Nora shortly understands the mix-up. “Ah. Unless it has a big motor on it?”
Owen laughs, swinging a leg over the snowmobile’s seat and gunning the engine. “Sure does. Hop on!”
Nora spends the next fifteen minutes clinging to his back for dear life as he rips through town at a frankly alarming pace. The ride through the forest is possibly even more terrifying than the streets, but at the end of it they’re emerging onto a field that’s familiar even covered in snow.
The tree house that holds Nora’s fondest memories is framed by bluish moonlight, making the new-fallen snow glitter like diamond dust. Once Owen has cut the engine, the silence is what strikes Nora even more than the vista—she’s used to this field being a symphony of birdsong and crickets. In the winter stillness, the silence seems to echo.
Dani’s truck is under the tree as usual, this time with the addition of a plow blade attached to the front—it’s parked in the exact spot where they sat on Dani’s tailgate the first time. Where they had their first kiss on a picnic blanket, and just under where Nora carved her name indelibly into the wood and sealed Dani’s grip on her heart.
There’s a dark figure sitting on the tree house platform and staring up at the moon, legs swinging slowly in the cold air. Nora can make out the bulky shape of her winter wear—she’s not wearing a coat, but a thick sweater under a pair of sturdy brown canvas overalls.
Despite the noise of the sled approaching, Dani’s silhouette doesn’t look away from the sky.
“You can go, Owen,” Nora says, pulling Ryan’s helmet off and handing it over. She fusses with her hair a little, but she’s sure it’s still a mess. “I’ve got it.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Owen revs the engine and zooms away, and Nora takes her first step off the packed track the sled left and toward Dani.
Her foot immediately sinks into several feet of soft, powdery snow.
Nora winces. Her boots are unsuited to real winter—the snow seeps into them immediately. But Dani is right there. The aching, familiar shape of her makes Nora take another step. And then another.
When Nora is finally close enough to be heard, with her impractical boots completely full of melted snow, she stands her ground despite the metaphorical and literal coldness of her feet.
“Dani?”
At first, Nora isn’t sure if Dani has even heard her. There’s no reaction, just the slow swinging of Dani’s boots and the smoke of her breath in the cold air. Like this is something she’s used to, being called down and ignoring the caller.
Then Dani visibly freezes.
Slowly her head turns, squinting into the coming darkness. In the moonlight, Nora can see her face. Her cheeks are pink and ruddy under the bill of her usual blue hat, covered now by a florescent orange toque. She’s frowning as if she doesn’t believe what she hears, but when she realizes who’s standing there, her eyes go comically wide.
With jerky, surprised movements, Dani pulls herself to her feet with the help of an icy branch, and Nora has but a brief moment of relief that she’s finally been recognized before Dani disappears with a loud, jolting crack .
Under the compounding weight of snow and ice and Dani, just as Nora predicted it would, the tree house platform has finally broken.
“Dani!”
Nora struggles through the knee-deep snow toward the pile of ice and wood on the ground where Dani’s boots are sticking out. Dani is moving, thankfully, and she’s looking at Nora through powder and planks as if she’s seen a ghost.
“Nora—what— how —” Dani sputters, taking Nora’s offered hand and hauling herself to her feet. Wooden beams and long-rusted nails scatter across the snow. “What are you doing here?”
Nora, dizzy with the closeness she’s been craving for months, can’t conjure any of the speeches she rehearsed on the drive. She agonized over the words, trying to figure out a way to ask Dani if she’s still welcome here without making her feel pressured. But in the face of Dani’s confusion, Nora says the first words that come to mind.
“I never should have left.”
For a few long moments, they both stand motionless, drinking each other in. Dani looks almost as drunk on the moment as Nora is—her eyes dart around Nora’s face like she’s reconciling it with her memories. The rim of her hat is coated in ice. There are delicate snowflakes caught in her long eyelashes.
Nora reaches a hand up to cup Dani’s cold cheek. Dani leans into it, her eyes still never leaving Nora’s face, and suddenly saying what’s on her mind in the most honest terms seems like the most important thing Nora has ever done.
“I missed you so much,” Nora whispers.
Dani exhales all her breath in a shaky, broken whoosh , and the next thing Nora knows, she’s being hugged so hard that it squeezes the air from her lungs. Dani whispers quietly into her hair.
“You came back.”
“Yeah,” Nora chokes out, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Yeah. I did.”
The wind kicks up around them, sending swirls of light snow scattering across the field, but Nora doesn’t let go. Dani still smells the same, feels the same under her bulky sweater. Being held by her again is a balm, even when Nora’s tears are freezing on her cheeks.
“Dani?” Nora whispers when a particularly icy blast of wind cuts through the thin fabric of her peacoat.
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t really dress for the weather.”
Dani jolts, springing out of the embrace like it’s an emergency situation. “Oh, shoot! Sorry!” She fumbles in her pocket for a moment, producing her key ring and trudging a path through the snow for Nora to follow toward the truck.
As much as the distance is necessary to get warm, Nora misses the solid pressure of Dani’s arms immediately. After months of deficiency she’s soaking up Dani’s presence, and the further away Dani gets, the more it feels like Nora is a plant sitting in the dark.
Nora climbs in gratefully when Dani hauls the passenger door open, and a few seconds later Dani is in the driver’s seat and sweet, blissful heated air is coming out of the vents. She holds her hands there, letting them defrost slowly, all the while terribly aware of the fact that Dani is staring at her from across the bench seat. In the interior light, Dani’s hair is a little darker than Nora remembers.
Mortimer the rubber duck is still sitting on truck’s dash, looking down at Nora with obvious disapproval.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Dani says quietly. The middle seat between them seems like a barrier now, and neither of them makes a move yet to close the distance. “I’ve thought about it so many times. Dreamed.” Dani’s voice breaks on the last few words. “Now I keep wondering when I’m going to wake up.”
The vulnerability in Dani’s voice cracks through Nora’s self-doubt. Dani sounds so timid, so deeply unlike herself, and it’s Nora’s fault. Suddenly the distance between them seems like too much again—she needs to touch Dani, to feel the solid realness of her.
Dani shifts the seat back as soon as Nora starts moving, leaving a familiar space for Nora to climb into her lap. She straddles Dani’s thighs, pressing herself into the space between Dani’s body and the steering wheel and ignoring the cold dampness permeating from her knees down. She lets Dani pull her into a hug until they’re chest to chest.
“I need you closer,” Dani whispers. She says it like a secret, like voicing it will make Nora disappear again in a puff of smoke.
Dani’s hands end up under Nora’s shirt and Nora unbuttons it to give her better access, but with the barrier of sweater and overalls, Nora can’t get under Dani’s clothes. There’s a mutual desperation to it that grows even as Dani presses her cold face against Nora’s revealed skin. It still isn’t close enough. She wants to be intertwined. She wants all barriers to be shed until all that’s left is them.
“I’m right here,” Nora says, cupping Dani’s still-reddened cheek. “I’m here.”
She says it to Dani’s face, and she says it into Dani’s mouth as she’s pulled into the searing kiss she’s been thinking about since the day she left. It’s much like their first—hard, messy, frantic—but tinged with a deep emotion that Nora wouldn’t previously let herself admit to. She murmurs the words again into Dani’s hair as their four hands fumble with the button of Nora’s jeans, whines them into a broad shoulder as Dani’s cold, perfect fingers press into the blazing heat beneath: I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.
A seam rips somewhere between Nora’s legs, but she could care less about the state of her zipper. Maybe they should be talking first, discussing why Nora has turned up out of the blue, but this feels right —this is how they’ve communicated from the start, how Nora first opened up, how she came to understand so much about who Dani is. This is the root of their connection, and it feels as natural as a conversation. It is a conversation. Dani is telling her everything she needs to know.
With a gentle rock of Nora’s hips, Dani is inside her again, and nothing else matters. Not the cold, not the untinted windows, not the months of distance or the difficult angle. Nothing matters besides the sweet curl of Dani’s fingers, the heat of her mouth, the reverence in her voice as she whispers Nora’s name.
She needs the closeness, needs Dani around her and within her, and Dani reflects that need right back; she manages to leverage her thumb against Nora’s clit, and even without the room to move her hand, it’s enough. Nora rocks against her in a constant rhythm, whimpering into Dani’s mouth with her hands clenched in the damp material of Dani’s sweater. Pressing in for more. Closer. Closer.
Release hits like a sigh—a settling, after months of being adrift. Nora clings to Dani’s shoulders, sharing her breath, and in the absolute stillness that follows, Nora’s surety about her decision cements itself.
For as long as Dani will have her, this is home.
“You’re here,” Dani says quietly, so quietly that Nora almost doesn’t hear it over the sound of the heating system and her own thundering heartbeat. “Are you—”
Dani’s voice gives out before she can finish. Her eyes well up with tears so quickly that she buries her face in Nora’s shoulder to hide them. The sight of them is unfamiliar. Nora had been a total mess the day she left, but Dani hadn’t cried. Nora has never seen Dani cry. Now Dani’s shoulders are shaking, tense and tight like she’s still trying to hold it in.
Nora pulls off Dani’s hat and strokes her hair, spreading a firm and comforting hand over the back of Dani’s neck as hot tears hit her skin.
“I love you, Dani,” Nora says. Not in a whisper, not like a secret—she says it clearly, with feeling. So clearly that Dani can’t possibly doubt its authenticity. “I fell in love with you this summer.”
Dani stiffens. Nora has no idea whether it’s a sign of shock or discomfort, but she plows onward through the rest of her thoughts before she can convince herself not to.
“Nothing felt right when I went back to the city. Nothing fit anymore. I never wanted to leave you, and I guess I never really let go of this place.” Nora takes a deep breath, grounding herself. The words feel easier the more she keeps talking. “I never let go of you.”
Dani finally pulls her face free of Nora’s shoulder. Her eyes are red-rimmed and devastated as she sniffles. “What does that mean?”
“I’m stepping down at CromTech.”
It’s a decision Nora made before she even left the city, the moment she admitted what she really wants. Technically there’s still a great deal of work to do to make it all official, but in all ways besides legality, Nora is ready.
“You’re…what?” Dani looks dazed, like she’s hardly daring to hope.
Nora kisses the tip of her cold nose. “I hate it there. I’ve always hated it there, but I didn’t think there was another option.” She presses their foreheads together, letting her eyes fall closed. The truck’s interior lights glow yellow behind her lids. “I thought that being unfulfilled was just the way it had to be. I wasn’t supposed to fall for you.”
“Nora,” Dani says, sounding breathy and confused, but Nora soldiers on.
“I was happier here than I’ve ever been. And it wasn’t because I was on vacation, it’s because I love it here. I love you.”
Nora punctuates the truth with a deep kiss. Dani returns it with verve, and by the time they pull apart again, they’re both breathless.
“So you want to stay?” Dani says.
“As long as you want me to.”
Dani laughs, wiping at her face and looking more than a little shell-shocked. “Well, jeez, Nora. Ten minutes ago I was sitting in that tree house and thinking that I’d never see you again, and now…”
“It’s okay if you’re not totally sure. I know I sprung this on you, so if you don’t want—”
“I love you, too,” Dani interrupts, halting Nora’s speech in its tracks.
Nora’s heart does an elegant pirouette.
“Oh,” Nora breathes. She hadn’t really expected Dani to say it back, but now that she has, Nora is giddy with it. The words are pure helium. “That’s…that’s good.”
“Yeah. So you coming back and saying you want to be here? That you want to stay?” Dani laughs a little, disbelief in every syllable. “You know, if you had even hinted that you wanted me to, I would have gone after you.”
“I know. I was too afraid. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I’m tired of running from the hard things.”
“I really hope this isn’t a dream,” Dani whispers, bringing one of Nora’s cold hands to her mouth and kissing her knuckles.
Nora has run out of words. All she can do is wrap her arms tight around Dani’s shoulders and let all the stress of the last three months leave her body.
“One thing,” Dani says after a few moments of contented quiet.
“Anything,” Nora murmurs between the soft kisses she’s trailing up the side of Dani’s neck. “Anything you want.”
“Is this my flannel?” Dani’s dry hand plucks at the checkered fabric. “I’ve been looking for that for months.”
It’s the same one Nora has slept in almost every night since September. She’d thrown it on before leaving her apartment to make her feel brave. She hadn’t been expecting that to be what Dani noticed, but her distraction feels like a worthy challenge.
“I thought you liked seeing me in it?” Nora says, leaning back and shrugging her arms out of her coat. The shirt drifts open, and Dani’s eyes dart back down to where Nora wants them. “I’d argue it’s as much mine as yours.”
“You make a, uh—a very compelling case,” Dani says. She’s leaning forward now, drinking Nora in and considerably less distracted already. “I’m taking notes. Any other arguments to present?”
With a delirious laugh, Nora lays back across the seat, pulls Dani down with her, and gets to work fogging the windows completely.
They have a lot of lost time to make up for.