Chapter 17
Aspen
As soon as we walked through the front doors of the lodge and into the main lobby, the noise level that greeted us was almost a shock.
Someone handed us funny paper hats. There was a table set up with piles of noisemakers.
Flat screen TVs were on in every corner showing the countdown to midnight.
A live band played fast tempo-ed music. There was an open bar in the great room at one end as well as the real hotel bar which was packed with people.
Dale and I stood in line for drinks.
I felt his sadness through our newly forged bond. I couldn't deny some of that was me, as well. I didn't want to think about facing a minute apart from him, let alone hours or days before we'd meet up again.
When I got up to the bar I ordered hard liquor. A whiskey sour. “Make it a double,” I added.
I felt Dale’s gaze on me, but I didn't flinch.
Dale ordered his favorite holiday drink. Spiked cider.
I planned to get nice and loaded. It might spoil our evening afterward, but for now I wanted to erase the future and live in the moment.
We drank and we danced. We freely kissed and ran our hands through each other's hair. I wanted to hold him tight, feel him against me. Surrounding me. I would have bent over for him right here on the dance floor if it wouldn’t have gotten me arrested.
When we took a break, I grabbed another drink. And another.
The countdown was getting closer to midnight.
I was hanging on Dale, now, drunk and happy and sad. Three things that I didn’t like to mix up too much.
“Night and weekends,” I shouted over the din.
Dale held me up. “What?”
“To see you.”
“Okay.”
The people started to chant. “Ten, nine, eight….”
I smashed my forehead into Dale’s shoulder and whispered, “Stop.” I was too drunk to think my command wouldn’t work. The universe should obey my wishes if I just believed enough. Like Santa Claus might exist.
But time didn’t stop. The people kept chanting.
I forced a laugh and the alcohol inside me rolled with it until I sputtered.
“Five, four, three, two, one…. Happy New Year!”
The band played Auld Lang Sang. Dale put his hand under my chin, tilting it up, and kissed me like it wasn’t tomorrow, like yesterday was still clinging to our hearts.
Tears stung down my cheeks.
He pulled back, thumbs wiping them away. “I think I need to put you to bed.”
I don’t remember how he got my drunk ass back to the cabin. If he carried me, I’d be mad I missed it. I liked the idea of him carrying me. I wanted to experience that.
Things came to me in flashes. Dark and light.
Softness.
“There you go. You’re all right. Just sleep it off,” said a loving voice.
“I ruined our night….”
“No, beautiful. You didn’t. I love you. More now than ever.”
He said the L word. And I was too out of it to wallow in the moment. I wanted to say it back, but the words got all jumbled and stuck in my garbled mind.
I loved Dale to the point of pain right now. So much more than I could ever wrap my mind around.
I fell asleep mad. My dreams yelled at me for not succeeding in stopping time, for something I couldn’t control.
The next morning, after I hydrated and showered and took aspirin and felt better, Dale and I talked.
We could do this. A relationship amidst our busy lives. We were going to make this work.
When I got into my car and shut the door, a pain sliced through my chest. Already, Dale was too far away.
We caravaned back to the city, our phones turned on the dash screen the whole way. Talking to him as we drove made me feel better, but when we separated off the highway to each head home, I felt the muscles of my throat tighten.
Dale reached his condo first. He had to hang up so he could unload his car and get inside.
The silence in my own car made my breath catch. “You can handle this.” I spoke the words aloud.
I pulled into my own condo driveway and hit the garage door opener. The lights came on. It felt like I’d been away for a long time.
I wheeled my suitcase inside. Everything was too quiet. And cold. Immediately, I turned on the heat.
I had to be at work by eight a.m. I was exhausted. And hungry.
I’d cleaned out my fridge for my vacation and there was nothing much in there but butter, soda, mustard and pickles.
I had frozen dinners in the freezer and threw a chicken pot pie in the microwave. It steamed in the air as I took it and a Coke to my couch, cuddled under a blanket, and ate in front of the TV.
Normally, I was content doing this. I loved my condo, and I loved calling all the shots in my life. Being alone was not uncomfortable for me.
Not now.
Everything was wrong. Except the pot pie was pretty good, though that alone wasn’t enough to change my mood. I could be an emotional eater. But this meager dinner didn’t soothe me.
I cleaned my dish and went to my couch to curl up again in the blanket. The heat was on but was taking its time to heat the place. I flipped my TV to a comedy and lay down, hoping to fall asleep in front of it.
My phone buzzed.
I picked it up to see a text from Dale. It was like a switch flipped in my brain to instant happy excitement.
Dale: Miss you.
Aspen: Miss you more.
Dale: Are you okay?
Aspen: No.
Dale: Are you in bed?
Aspen: No.
Dale: Get into bed. I know you have to get up early and so do I, but when you’re settled, call me.
Aspen: I thought I might sleep on the couch.
Dale: Bed is more comfortable. I want to know you’re okay.
Aspen: Same. Are you in bed?
Dale: Yes. I’ll wait for you.
I turned off the TV and got up, a grin on my face. Quickly, I brushed my teeth and got into bed in just my shorts. I hadn’t even started to unpack.
I fluffed my pillows, pulled up the comforter and blanket, and called Dale.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Are you in bed?” Dale’s voice was like music.
“Yes. Are you?”
“Yes. I had to call before I went to sleep. I needed to hear your voice,” he said.
“You didn’t get enough of my chatter on the six-hour drive home?”
“Nope.”
I laughed. “Good.”
“Baby, we can do this every night we’re not together.”
“Yes.” I was relieved. I needed this.
“And since New Year’s was on Monday, Friday will be here before you know it.”
“You’ll be spending the weekend with me, right?”
“What’s this? We discussed it. You think I’ve changed my mind?”
I gulped. “I need constant affirmation when I’m feeling insecure.”
“Are you feeling insecure?”
“A little. I want to feel your arms around me again.”
“Oh sweetie, what a nice thing to say. I want you in my arms.”
“Can we pretend?”
“Definitely,” he replied. “Find a spare pillow and scrunch it up tight against your side.”
“Okay.” I had three extras on the empty side of my bed. I fluffed one and pulled back the covers to put it alongside my body. I flopped the covers over it.
“Done,” I reported.
“Good. I’ve done the same. Pretend it’s my body. The pillow will get warm from your warmth. Curve your body into it if you have to.”
I did as he suggested. “It’s nice but it doesn’t smell like you. It doesn’t really feel like you.”
“We’re pretending here,” he reminded me.
“Right.” I closed my eyes, the phone on speaker next to my head. “I’m hugging the pillow now.”
“Good.”
“But I can’t feel your arms.” I tried not to sound whiny.
“No? I’m hugging my pillow. Those are my arms around you.”
For a moment, I became confused. Then clarity hit. The bond flared between us. The scent in my bedroom changed. The air seemed warmer. And as I hugged the pillow, the covers over my shoulders tightened. Like arms.
“It is like you’re with me,” I whispered.
“I feel your presence here, too,” Dale said. “You’re in my mind. And so close. It’s like there’s no space between us.”
“The bond.”
“Yes.”
We had that special connection. It couldn’t be denied. Would a bond have formed if I hadn’t gone into heat? I didn’t know. But it was there nonetheless, and I had no regrets.
It was silly to think about being bonded to an alpha and be apart from him. For shifters, a bond was more sacred than marriage. For humans, marriage was the legal link.
The logistics would sort themselves out.
I needed to be patient. Humans moved a little slower than shifters, especially reindeer shifters who were known to meet and announce a fated mate and move in with him or her within days.
I couldn’t push Dale. He needed to go at his pace, and I needed to trust him.
I floated in the comforting embrace of the link.
Dale’s soft voice found me. “Are you sleepy?”
“Warm and content,” I replied.
“Good. Close your eyes. I’m right here. Don’t hang up.”
“I won’t.”
“Are your eyes closed?”
“Yes.”
“Is the light off?”
“Yes.”
“For me, too. We’ll keep the phone line open.”
“Okay.”
“You can sleep now. I have you.”
Those were the words he used our first night together. They meant everything.
Soon, I was drifting to the sounds of his breaths. They’d slowed, like mine, until we both slept.