Chapter Nine
“We should go outside and see what happened.” Noelle hops out of my lap and paces near the front door, shaking out her hands.
We almost died. Maybe? And she kissed me again. What was that?
“We’re so lucky, oh my goodness. Maybe we can see where the avalanche struck.” Her head whips to me, a picture of panic with flushed cheeks, pink mouth, and messy hair. She’s so pretty it’s hard to concentrate. “What if someone needs our help?”
I exhale and scrub a hand down my face, leaning forward on my knees. Mine, she’d said. About me! And she meant it. I think. At that moment, she didn’t look crazed. But now she’s up and tracing frantic circles in the front rug, and I don’t know what to make of any of it.
Surely, it was all just adrenaline. Panic. Hormones. She doesn’t date outsiders, Old Ethel said. And Noelle is so beautiful, she’d have her pick of guys. Who do I think I am? I blow out a heavy breath, wishing the wild, sexy moment we had would fizzle out of my system, but the undercurrent of heat won’t leave me. My body is humming and fired up.
“I need a second,” I growl out and crack my neck, letting my hands stroke up my horns and down, chasing away the tingle her soft touch left behind. It made me crazy when she grabbed me like that. I’m still catching my breath, pushing down the heady sensations, when I realize how quiet she is. Noelle isn’t a quiet person. I peek up, and she bites her lip.
“I’m sorry,” she peeps.
“Don’t be sorry.” I shake my head, feeling more in control of whatever took hold of me when I knew we were in danger, when she melted in my arms, and when she said I was hers. She needs me here, in the present, just as much as I need her. “Whatever you feel, please don’t be sorry. I’m not.”
“Okay,” she says, so quiet I almost don’t hear it.
I stand and readjust myself. The erection may be another minute or two. She glances down at it, then to the window, her fiery red hair like a curtain sweeping back. I want to touch her again so badly, but we’re in the middle of a natural disaster. I need to get my mind off my turbulent emotions and take stock of our situation.
Our safety. Noelle’s safety. I promised her that. I was prepared for the roof to fall on top of me and just cage her with my body and horns. If she had a chance to survive, that was going to be my end, and I was okay with it.
“Alright, let’s look around outside.”
I change into some warmer clothes, and she shrugs on her coat. As we head out the front door, I stay as close to her as is respectful, wanting to bundle her in my arms again but knowing it’s not logical or useful to our mission.
Within seconds, my lungs fill with the frigid air. It’s like every last inch of my insides is sharpening and waking up. We walk to the edge of the deck. Though Old Ethel’s property is unaffected, and the road is clear near us, the damage is evident.
The avalanche missed us by a good way but is still close enough to see. A giant white slash of snow cuts across Last Hour Road where it snakes down the mountain below us. The snowdrift has to be at least ten feet tall. Only the top of a tall road sign peeks out, and the mound slopes even higher.
It’s horrifying but beautiful. I drag a handful of snow from the railing, watching it melt in my fiery fingertips. Snow seems so harmless, a soft nothing dripping to the ground. But the quiet all around us is unnerving, like the avalanche snuffed out all life that used to exist below that fresh, perfect snow. I glance to the dark trees off to the side and shiver, already wanting to be back inside.
“That’s a relief.” Noelle sighs, tucking her hair behind her ears, gone wild in the whipping wind. “There aren’t any cabins in its path as far as I know.”
“Nature is crazy.” I clear my throat, the cold making it hard to breathe suddenly. An unwelcome memory of my accident as a kid grips me, how I tumbled down this very mountain out hiking in a dangerous section of slippery rocks.
“I’m stuck,” she says.
I look at her feet, confused. She’s stuck in the snow? Her head snaps back to the blocked road below. The reality of the situation hits me. Noelle is stuck with me. Maybe for days. Sweet Mother Darkness, this is a holiday miracle. I can feel my grin stretch wide.
“I’m stuck!” she sobs.
Oh no.
“I have to go.” She darts off and into the woods at the side of the property.
“Wait! What?” I chase after her. The trees don’t let as much snow gather on the ground, and we’re near the top of the mountain, so I’m not worried about another avalanche. But if she strays too far—
“There’s a path downhill just over here,” she shouts over her shoulder. I can barely make out her rambling as I try to catch up. “I’m sure I could get back home that way. There’s too much to do, Rom. You don’t understand. I can’t be stuck up here. Avalanches take so long to clear. A couple years ago, the people in cabins up here were stuck for weeks.”
She scampers through the forest, sniffling and crying between statements.
Anxiety starts to creep into my thoughts. “Slow down, Noelle.”
“The Truthfire Festival is in a week! It’s my last chance to save the library!”
I’m still several feet behind her, struggling to catch up as the sharp, chilled air stings down to my lungs. The snow crunching underfoot gives way to hard ground then moss-covered rocks.
Everything is different here. No, familiar.
She stops at a fern-covered wall. Rivulets of hot water flow down the stone face. Noelle tests her footing on a lower boulder, like she’s going to climb down.
My body flashes cold. A lead stone sinks in my gut.
She cannot be serious about going down the mountain this way. I remember this area, flashes of it at least. It’s a treacherous route.
Pockets of hot springs and waterfalls dot this side of the mountain. The air is thick with warm humidity. Boiling water burbles up and streams down the cliffs, feeding waterways leading to the biggest waterfall of all. It’s picturesque but dangerous for climbing, no matter the time of year. Featured on postcards for the town, it flows straight out of the mountain accompanied by a cloud of piping hot steam, giving the lake its name.
“Tell me you’re not hiking down to Teapot Lake from here.”
“Do you like being lied to?” She gets a defiant look on her face that would be cute if I wasn’t so terrified.
“Absolutely not.” I realize that sounds like an answer to her question instead of what I meant. “You are not going down there.”
“I’ll be careful.” Her eyes go round and placating, but she looks down the steep cliff, and I can see the hesitation. Her fingers feel around the rocks and slip in the vegetation, finding no firm hold. “I know my way.”
She did bring me that map. I don’t remember a lot of specifics of the mountain, but I know this section is a popular place local daredevil kids like to visit. They can slide on their butts down a few sections of hot springs, which also makes it extremely dangerous.
“This path is a tangle of wet rocks, geysers, and lava pits, Noelle.” I’ve been here and paid the price. My vision narrows to where she’s trying to pick her way down a cliff face. This isn’t even the most dangerous section, and she’s already slipping.
“I’ll be fine!” she says, not even looking at me, focused on trying to navigate boulders topped with sharp edges. She’s close but too far away for me to grab.
“No you won’t!” I roar. My chest is heaving. “It’s a path only dumb kids take.”
She whips around, clearly offended, until she sees me.
Anger and frustration boils out of me, but the fear is hotter. Even though it’s not the same exact spot, the terrain brings unwelcome memories crashing down. The day I tumbled down this mountain. Pain. Burning gashes. Broken bones and blood. I was with my brothers doing a risky hike up the lava channels on a dare. Never the most athletic, I scrambled to catch up.
One stupid slip left me scarred for life.
I struggle to breathe as the memories take on a new life. Noelle falling. Noelle screaming. Her red hair tangled in dirt. Her perfect face covered in scars like mine.
“You’re okay.”
Her voice cuts through the fog in my mind. I don’t see her, but I feel her hand in mine. I crush her to me and struggle through shuddered breaths.
“You’re okay,” she repeats. Her hands rub up and down my back. Her cheek lays against my heart. “You’re safe. Everything’s okay. Try to breathe.”
“Don’t go down there.” My whisper is hoarse and cracked.
She exhales, her breath hot and sweet against my chest. “You’re right. It was a bad idea.”
“This mountain is dangerous.” I squeeze her tight and come back to the present, shake my head, and focus on what’s in front of me. She’s alright. My hand smooths down her soft hair. My knuckles drag down her cheek.
She’s not hurt. She’s whole and safe. I try to go for a joke to lighten the mood. “I’ll follow you down this razor-sharp, slip ‘n slide volcano if that’s where you’re going, but I think my scars prove I’ve got zero instincts for the venture.”
She pulls back and smiles, but I can tell it’s a courtesy. She’s still worried about me.
“I know you’re a tough, capable woman, but you wouldn’t put me in danger like that would you?”
Her gaze is soft as she studies me. I feel strung tight and a thousand things at once — weak as a lamb, heart racing with leftover anxiety, but also ready to do anything necessary to protect her.
“Stay with me,” I say, then reword as a question. “You’ll stay until the road is clear?” I don’t know if my body will let go of her until she agrees.
She lays her chin against my chest and nods. My breath whooshes out in relief. Okay, that’s settled.
We hold each other for a few moments, just coming down from the stress. Then I remember why she ran away in the first place.
“This fundraiser for the library,” I say. “I caught some of what you said, but I take it that’s your main concern?”
Her eyes tighten, worry coloring her expression. “Yeah. The building needs so many repairs. I have to get quotes to increase the fundraising goal and figure out what to do for the library’s table at the festival. There will be so many tourists with deep pockets. I just know it’s my last chance. I can’t be stuck here for a week. I can’t. New Year’s Eve is in eight days.”
“A week is a long time.” I say, measuring the days out in my mind. She has time. “The library is closed for a couple days because of the holiday, right?”
“Right,” she says.
“So for right now, at least a few days, you’re not allowed to worry.” I release the hug but grab her hand in an iron grip, leading us away from the rocky area.
“Easier said than done,” she says, waving her free hand in the air. I just know she’s gearing up for another rant. “But I’ve got about a hun—”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “Will you let me help you?”
“Uhhh.” She wrings her hands together.
“I’ll take notes and draft up a project plan including everything the library needs for repairs and everything you need for the fundraiser.” My mind clicks into work mode. General manager reporting for duty. If I’m good at one thing, it’s doing the least amount of work for the highest reward. She doesn’t need eight days. This is easy work if we plan and work as a team. Whether it’s staff schedules or speed reading, I’m an expert at using my time efficiently. “We’ll estimate costs, timelines, and discuss delegation.”
“Oh. Wow. That sounds nice,” she says.
I get the sense Noelle doesn’t ask for help much. She may command a team of volunteers at the library, but I’d bet my bottom dollar she does the lion’s share of the work day in and day out.
“It is nice. You’ll see.” I smile back at her and pull up my phone, then groan when I see I have no connection. “Ugh, the service here is so spotty.”
“Oh! It’s way better at the top of that ridge.”
I grimace at the snowy hillside from here to there. It seems we’re either braving avalanches or dangerous cliffs.
“It’s safe,” she says, squeezing my hand. “There’s a path through a burnt-out section of woods all the way up to the top, maybe half a mile or so. You never went up to Frostwing Lookout as a kid?”
I was fourteen when we left town, only halfway through my freshman year. Frostwing Lookout was the scenic spot the older high school kids went to to make out. I shake my head and can’t help but wonder who she’s been up here with. What friends replaced me? What boyfriends broke her heart?
Putting my melancholy thoughts aside, I refocus. She leads the way up the mountain as I pepper her with logistical questions about her fundraiser and repairs needed. The path is flat and clear, so I can take notes and make a simple project plan in my spreadsheet app as we go. When we reach the top, the list is complete, but the details still need work. We settle on a long, flat rock as she looks it over.
The air is cold but crisp and the wind whips around so fast I keep an arm around her, still a little on edge from the avalanche and the thought of her in danger.
Up here, though, everything feels better. Falcons careen in the evening sky. It’s nearly sunset and the fading light shines a golden warmth over everything. The white topped mountains and valleys are something I haven’t really seen in years. Snow makes everything new.
Even the avalanche seems like a brushstroke from a god this high up, the road and dozens of uprooted trees simply playthings that were painted over. How easy it was to wipe away something that grew for hundreds of years. Gone in a flash. A sense of fearlessness and humility wash over me, both at the same time.
“It looks achievable all laid out like that.” She takes my phone and in the “Assign to” column for each action item starts typing her name. Over and over in every box.
“No.” I pluck the phone out of her grasp. “If I’m helping you, I’m helping. And I have people who help me, so we’re taking some of these action items. Are you telling me you don’t have volunteers who can sort books or buy a tablecloth, a pallet of bottled water, and a ream of paper?”
She narrows her eyes. “Fine. I’ll ask someone to do that.”
I bump her shoulder. “No need to get pouty. There’s still plenty you can do.”
We spend the next few minutes divvying up the work until we get to the last line, which is probably the most important. I really want to take it off her plate.
“About this one, signing a new lease.” I point it out to her. “Can I look into it first?”
“My lease? I have to sign it ASAP. The new rate starts on January 1st. I was planning to call them right now to see if I can agree over the phone somehow.”
“Give me a few days.”
“Why?”
“Most of your fundraising goal which is currently around—” I double check the sum figure “—$15,000 is going toward physical repairs of the building itself.”
She nods, grimacing. “It’s so much. I didn’t think it would be that high.”
“In my opinion, you shouldn’t be responsible for any of it.”
“The landlord is?” she asks but looks profoundly uncomfortable. The last time I mentioned this, she said she felt it was fair she paid, but it’s not.
“I’d like your permission to speak with them as well as secure three bids for each of your bigger repair needs. You shouldn’t be on the hook for any of that since you don’t own the property but presenting professional estimates to the landlord can only help the case. I don’t know how they’re getting away with neglecting basic upkeep of a historic property. They could be fined. Big time.”
“That sounds really messy.” Her leg shakes against my knee. I place my hand on it and squeeze, hating how uncomfortable she looks.
“I understand.” I exhale and try to control this burning need to take this off her. “How about this? Put me to work. Give me a deadline, a few days to look into the rent and repair estimates. I’d love to try to help you with this so you can focus on the festival.”
She chews the inside of her mouth and studies me, but I think I see a little hope in her eyes.
“I don’t like seeing you taken advantage of,” I continue. “There’s no reason you should be overcharged by contractors or even liable for repairs on a building you don’t own while the owner tries to increase your rent for a building that’s falling down around your ears.”
“Fair point,” she says.
“Can I make some calls?” I press my hands together in prayer, itching to get started. “Will you let me worry about the repairs and the rent for a few days?”
“Don’t burn any bridges. They’re all nice people.”
“Persuasive but professional. I promise.” I cross my heart and lift my pinky to hers. “Deal?”
“A deal is a deal.” Her smile tucks over on one side of her face as she loops her pinky through mine and shakes. “You have until New Year’s Eve, then I’m signing the lease no matter what.”
“I won’t let you down,” I promise.
She sighs. “We never asked for help when things broke down because my uncle was always so handy. He tried calling the landlord, but it’s such a big company that it’s hard to get a response, you know? He just fixed it.”
“Which wasn’t fair to him, and it isn’t fair to you.”
“Yeah! They should take care of the building. It’s a piece of local history.”
“I agree.”
“The town deserves better,” she says.
“And so do you.”
“You know, we always pay our rent on time. Every month.”
“They’d be lucky to keep you as tenants.”
“Exactly. We deserve respect.”
“Always.” I grin. It’s nice to see her defending herself instead of other people for once. She seems to take on every possible responsibility, even ones that aren’t hers, but I aim to change that. Life works out so well when you learn to trust and rely on others. I want to be that for her. At least, for now.
Noelle is a vision of flushed skin and indignance and bright red hair dancing in the wind. As much as I want to kiss her, I can’t.
We have work to do.