Chapter Twenty-four
Martina
There was a shift in Dallas yesterday. With each memory of DJ that he shared, he seemed a little lighter. With every bite of cake, he looked more at peace. It was a huge risk I took. It could have easily backfired and become a disaster. He could have totally refused and spent the night chopping wood. But sometimes you have to take big risks for the people you… love?
I draw in a sharp breath. I’ve only known him for six days. I barely know anything about him. Is it possible to fall in love that quickly? I’ve read it in books. Seen it in movies. But that insta-love is usually something that goes both ways. Whatever this is, it’s definitely one-sided. But it’s also incredibly intense. I’m experiencing feelings I’ve never had before. Sure, Charles and I were in love. But it was a slow love, the kind that develops through years of friendship. It wasn’t the punch-you-in-the-chest, hit-by-a-ton-of-bricks kind of love, it was more like waking up one day and realizing it was more than just friendship. Like, yeah, of course we’re in love, haven’t we always been?
Or maybe it was everyone and their dog telling us we belonged together.
This, though, is different. It’s like one day I was this part-time single mom making a half-decent living branding people’s websites, not even thinking about my next orgasm, and the next thing I know, I’m falling for the reclusive mountain man who literally rescued me from the grips of death.
That’s got to be it. Dallas rescued me. I’m the patient who falls for her doctor. The princess who falls for the white knight. The horny single mom who falls for the first guy to bed her in years.
“Hey, there. Everything okay?”
Dallas’s voice startles me back from wherever I’d gone. He’s wondering why I stopped reading.
Yes, it’s the middle of the day. But it’s cold, and there isn’t much to do, so we’re sitting in bed, blankets tucked around us, Bex at my feet, and I’m reading the book aloud. And somehow, over the course of the hour, his head ended up in my lap.
I look down. “Sorry.”
“Where’d you go?”
“I… honestly, I was thinking about Charles.”
Okay, honestly , I was thinking about you and how different my heart feels when I’m around you compared to how it felt being with him. Honestly , I’m sitting here trying to talk myself out of falling for a guy who’s totally and emotionally unavailable. Honestly , I’m secretly hoping that the weather keeps me here just a little bit longer, because I’m not ready to leave this fantasy.
“Tell me about him.”
His request surprises me. He’s never asked me any personal questions. Maybe after yesterday and the sharing he did about DJ, he feels comfortable asking.
“We met in middle school gym class shortly after my dad died and Asher and I moved to a new school district. His parents had just relocated from Indiana. I was the awkward girl in glasses with no athletic ability whatsoever.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are we talking nerdy coke-bottle glasses or sexy librarian glasses?”
When I laugh, his head bounces up and down on my lap. “I was twelve, believe me, there was nothing sexy about me.”
“Mmm,” he mumbles.
Somehow, that makes me smile.
“Charles was the brainy math geek who had zero idea he was hotter than the entire starting lineup of the baseball team. Being the new kids, it was natural for us to gravitate together. Especially since we were on the same bus route, albeit he was dropped at the upper-middle-class neighborhood a mile away from my apartment complex.”
With the book at my side, and nothing to do with my hands, I find one gravitating to his hair. My fingers drift through his locks, lightly massaging his scalp.
“Was he your first boyfriend?” he asks.
“First and only.”
His brow wrinkles. “Only?”
I nod. His eyes bore into mine, searching them for the answer to his unspoken question.
Yes, Dallas , I answer with my mind. You’re the only other man I’ve slept with.
I expect him to be a little more surprised than he is. I am twenty-four after all. And single. His lack of surprise has me wondering if he too had a ‘first and only.’
My heart is pounding against my chest wall at the intensity of his gaze. And the sexy smile ruffling his lips clues me in to the fact that he may be patting himself on the back right now.
“We didn’t get together for years,” I tell him. “In fact, we called people absurd when they said we were perfect for each other. To us, we felt like brother and sister. It wasn’t until one drunken night sophomore year when we kissed on a dare. I guess we both liked it enough to take it as a sign. From then on, it was us against the world. We became inseparable. We got married the day after graduation. Even went to college together. But I dropped out when I got pregnant.”
“But you still went on to be a graphic designer.”
“Yeah. You don’t technically need a degree for that, just a lot of experience and great references.”
“So you built your own business.”
“I did.”
“Is it lucrative?”
I chuckle. “You saw my car, you tell me.”
“But it pays the bills?”
“It pays them well enough.”
He tilts his head, even as my fingers rummage through his hair, and studies me. Maybe a guy from his background has no idea how people can survive making the kind of money I do.
“Did Charles pay child support?”
“Every month. Never late. Even though we split custody, since he made considerably more than I did, he paid for most of Charlie’s needs. Even more than our divorce arbiter suggested.”
“Why do you think it ended between you two?”
I’m trying hard not to show my amusement at his interest in my private life. He really has changed over the past day.
I shrug. “We didn’t adult well together.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“As we grew older, we just didn’t work as a couple. He was super intelligent, much smarter than me. He took college courses when he was a sophomore in high school. When he went to FSU, he had so many credits, he graduated in two years. By the time I was pregnant with Charlie, he’d gotten a job at a bank and was already moving up the corporate ladder. We drifted apart and separated even before Charlie was born. The fact that neither of us was that upset about it means it was the right thing to do. We’re much better as friends.”
My chest seizes up and my heart stills. “Or, we were.” I lean back against the pillow. “Sometimes I forget he’s dead.” My ill-chosen words echo in my head. “Oh, gosh, I didn’t mean—”
“Stop it.” He puts a finger to my lips. “I said you didn’t have to bite your tongue around me.”
“I just… never know what to say.”
“Say whatever you want. And, Marti—don’t ever refer to yourself as not smart.” He picks up the book. “How about you just read?”
I take it from him, find my place, and continue, never letting my left hand stray from his hair.
~ ~ ~
Dallas wakes me.
I look around to see it’s still light out. “How long was I asleep?”
“A few hours.” His head shakes as if he’s trying to comprehend something. “I was out too. It’s crazy.”
“What is?”
“The past few nights. Today. I’ve never slept so well.”
Satisfaction dances within me, and I find it hard not to smile.
He hops up. “I’m going to see if I can fix the cell tower.”
My eyes widen. “You are?”
“The snow stopped.” He goes to the window and gazes out. “The sky looks better. Maybe we’re out of the woods… so to speak.”
I pull my knees to my chest. “If you’re going, I’m going with you.”
“It’s still cold as shit out there.”
“I’ve walked to the car and back. The tower isn’t farther than that, is it?”
“It’s about a mile and a half. But why come when you could stay here in front of a warm fire?”
“Why?” I wave my hand around. “Because I’m not staying here while you risk your life. What if you fall and break your neck? What if you get lost?”
He scoffs. “One, I won’t get lost. Believe me. Two, I’ve climbed up there a half-dozen times. Haven’t we gone over this?”
“How high is it?”
“Not as high as you’d think. Some cell towers can be two-hundred feet tall. Mine’s only fifty.”
I huff out a breath. “ Only fifty? Are you crazy?”
“Depends who you ask,” he says with a wink.
I don’t even have time to process the fact that Dallas Montana just winked at me, because all I can do is envision him falling and leaving me a heartbroken mess. Because even though Charles was my son’s father and my best friend, losing Dallas would hit differently. It would pierce my heart in such a way that I’m not sure I’d recover. And once again, I’m asking myself how I could feel like this in just a few short days.
“Are you coming?” he asks, lacing up his boots as I stare at him from the bed.
I trade my yoga pants for jeans. I don’t bother going into the bathroom to change. It’s not like he hasn’t seen every inch of me. When I turn back around, he’s watching me pensively. Is he thinking how casual I’m becoming with him? How comfortable? And further, if he is thinking those things, is he okay with it?
“We’d, uh, better go.” He thumbs to the door. “Come on, Bex.”
On his way, he stops at the closet and pulls out a tool belt. He straps it around his waist then hoists a rope and harness over his shoulder. Thank God for that. At least he’s not totally insane.
I look up at the sky along the way. It’s still overcast, but much lighter than before. These clouds don’t look like they’ll bring any more snow. I glance over at Dallas, not sure how I feel about that.
The entire walk, I think of Charlie. I’m used to being away from him, having shared custody since his birth, so this really isn’t much different, with the major distinction of him not being with his father. But I have to believe he’s doing okay. It’s the only way to get through this.
I still don’t know how to tell Charlie about his father’s death. It’s what keeps me up at night. Well, that and the unknown consequences of the guy sleeping next to me.
“There it is.” He points ahead to a clearing.
It’s the only clearing in the woods, and I marvel at the crisp, white, pristine snow that blankets the ground. I stop and take it all in knowing this may be the only time I get to see something as awe-inspiring. For as far as my eye can see, nothing disturbs the terrain. There aren’t even any animal tracks—for which I’m grateful.
My hand covers my heart. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Dallas says from behind.
But when I turn, he’s not even looking out across the impressive white landscape. He’s looking at me .
My heart stops and then restarts. Our eyes hold each other’s gaze. Our feet are frozen in place. I’ve never wanted to be kissed more than I do in this instant. In this very place. Surrounded by this incredible scenery.
Bex barks and prances toward a distant tree, seemingly to chase a squirrel or bird. I try not to be too mad at him, he is, after all, just a dog. But the moment between Dallas and me has passed, and he slogs through the untouched snow, blazing a path for me to follow as we make our way to the tower.
The closer we get, the more anxiety I feel. The tower gets taller and taller with every step I take toward it.
When we reach the base, he puts on the harness and steps on the ladder.
“Wait!” I say, gripping his arm.
He turns. “What is it?”
“Just… don’t… don’t…”
Die , I say only in my head.
“I won’t,” he says confidently, his grin skewed.
While the smile is reassuring, especially because he doesn’t often do it, I still hold my breath as he climbs, only releasing it to draw in another and hold it some more. His foot slips off a rung about twenty feet up and I scream, blood rushing in my ears.
He regains his footing and yells down, “Being a little over-dramatic, aren’t we?”
“Over-dramatic?” My hands land defiantly on my hips as I shout, “You’re the one who said not to worry, Mr. I’ve-done-this-before! So how about you don’t give me a heart attack watching you fall to your death?”
Laughter spews from his lungs as he continues his climb.
“Would you fucking concentrate?” I bellow.
He shoots me an irritated look over his shoulder. I scold myself for talking. Every time I do, he looks down, putting himself in danger. I vow to remain silent and let him do what he needs to do. Every five feet or so, he hooks a carabiner onto the side of the ladder. Though it offers me a modicum of reassurance, I question the ability of the small clips to hold his weight should he fall. Dallas is tall and sturdy. Two hundred pounds of solid muscle.
When he makes it to the top and secures himself, relief takes hold. We’re halfway there.
He brushes snow off one of the panels. Some ice must remain because he pulls a tool off his belt and starts chipping away. He moves to the next panel, and then the third, doing the same thing.
“Okay, try it now!” he shouts, looking down at me from above.
“Try what now?” I ask.
“Your phone.”
I hold my hands out. “I don’t have it with me.”
Of course I didn’t bring my phone. I haven’t carried it with me in days. Why would I? I guess if I’d thought more about what we were doing, I’d have brought it. But all my thoughts were centered on his safety.
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Listen, buddy!” I yell. “You didn’t exactly tell me to bring it. If it was so critical, why the hell didn’t you bring yours? You’re the one who’s done this before.”
His head shakes in annoyance. He’s got no place to argue. This is his show.
“We’ll just have to—”
His foot slips. My heart jackhammers and my lungs hold my breath hostage as I watch in slow motion as he falls backward, arms flailing, searching for something to grip.
“Dallas!” I scream, fear blistering my stomach.
I close my eyes, because I can’t watch the man I quite possibly love plummet to his death. A million things go through my head all at once. Will the snow cushion his fall? What if he breaks a leg, or worse, his back? Do I remember how to do CPR? What if I lose him before I even get a chance to have him?
“Hello-o?”
His loud and clearly sarcastic voice instantly relieves me and alerts me to two things: he’s not dead, and he’s not down.
My eyes fly open and scan the tower, my hand covering my mouth when I see him hanging upside down, his foot trapped between the ladder and the main tower structure, the rest of him dangling dangerously. “Oh my god!”
He tries in vain to pull himself up and free his foot. After a few unsuccessful minutes, his body goes limp and he looks down. “A little help?”
“Me? How can I help?”
“My foot is stuck. Really stuck. I can’t turn and position myself to pull up and release it.”
Dread, fear, and crippling anxiety crawl up my spine, because I absolutely know what he’s going to say next.
“Marti, sweetheart, I’m sorry, but you have to climb up here and help free me.”
Terror rips through me like a brick dropping through my core. My brain doesn’t even register what he just called me. My only thoughts are of me, or worse, him and me, falling to our deaths because of my intense fear of heights.
“Do you think your wrist can handle it?” he asks.
It’s not my wrist I’m worried about. “There’s something you should know,” I yell.
“Please, by all means, let’s have a long, drawn-out, personal conversation while all the blood is rushing to my head.”
“Will you shut up, Dallas Montana?”
“Fine. What should I know?”
I swallow. “I’m insanely scared of heights.”
“Breathe, Marti. Because I’m afraid you coming up here is the only way I’m getting out of this.”
I have no harness. No rope. No safety net should I fall. Bex seems to understand this, because when I take the first step onto the bottom rung, he prances over and barks.
“I’ll be okay, buddy. I think. But if something happens and we fall, or if I don’t come down, promise me you’ll run and get help like you did when I fell through the ice.”
He nudges my calf. I’ll take that as a promise.
When I can’t get a good grip on the rung, I realize my gloves have to go. My hands might just freeze before I get to the top, but if I wear the gloves, I’ll slip for sure. I tuck them into my pocket, take a few deep breaths, and start climbing.
“You’re doing great,” I hear from above. “Just don’t look down.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious, for reminding me what I’m terrifyingly afraid of.”
I hear him laugh, which is ridiculous considering the situation.
“Almost here. You’re amazing, Marti.”
His voice is closer now. He isn’t yelling anymore. I keep my eyes trained on only the rung in front of me, fearful that if I look up or down, I’ll freak out and fall.
“Four more. Keep going. Three. Two. Okay, reach up with your right hand.”
“I can’t.” I tighten my death grip on the ladder.
“Marti, I need you to do this.”
I still don’t look up, but I reach up like he asked. When I do, he shoves a length of rope into my hand.
“Tie this around your waist.”
I close my eyes, gripping the ladder with all my might. “And how exactly do you suggest I do that?”
“Wrap your elbow around the ladder to secure yourself. That will free up your hand to tie the rope.”
“Oh my god, this is not happening.”
As I say the words, it’s like déjà vu, because I swear I’ve said or thought the very same thing at least a dozen times this week.
It takes three tries, and I drop the rope repeatedly. Thankfully, he never lets go of it, and I keep at it until I’ve got it secured. But I’m no expert. I have no idea if the knot I tied is good enough or tight enough to hold me should I fall. I’ve no choice but to believe it will.
“Amazing,” he says reassuringly. “Now climb up a few more rungs. I’ll be on your left.”
I do what he asks, my mouth bone dry and my stomach churning at the thought of what happens if I don’t succeed.
“Okay, great. Now look at me.”
I shake my head, acid eating my insides.
“Marti, I’m right here. Look at me.”
When I open my eyes, he’s on my left. He’s upside down. His face is bright red, but his lips dance with a crooked smile.
He reaches out and grips my arm. “I guess we’ll be even after this.”
“No we won’t be. You’ll still be one up on me. And I’d like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.”
He chuckles. “Okay. You can do this. My foot is wedged pretty tightly. The problem is I can’t lift myself up to free it. I need you to get directly under me so I can use your body as leverage. You’re going to have to hold on tight, with everything you have. Most of my weight will be on you.”
“What if I—”
“Look at me. Sweetheart, you can do this. We can do this. Together.”
He gives me clear instructions about where to anchor my hands and feet, wedging myself into a hunched position so he can push himself up using my back.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Before he puts any weight on me, he reaches out and secures my knot, making sure it’s not going to give should either of us fall.
“Hold on. I’ll try to do this as quickly and safely as I can.”
“Do it, Dallas.”
He grunts as he uses his ab muscles to lift his body as far as he can until his back is resting on my back. He’s heavy. My arms shake and burn as I hold on as tightly as I can.
“Almost there,” he says.
My foot slips and I scream. I regain my footing, tears streaming down my face. “I’m okay.”
“Jesus,” he says, his voice laced with fear.
“Go. I’m good.”
Putting even more of his weight on me, I try to keep myself from being pushed down. I gather up all my strength and hold myself steady, ignoring the intense pain of my arms practically ripping from their sockets.
Suddenly, his weight is gone. Just as I start to panic, he says, “I’m free.”
The breath I take is what it must feel like when a baby is born and they get their first lungful of air.
More tears streak my face, this time from relief.
“Hold tight,” he says. “I’m going to climb around you.”
I keep my eyes closed, feeling his body work around mine.
“Okay, I’m right behind you. We’re going down together.”
“I hope you mean on the ladder.”
He presses into me and whispers close to my ear, “It’s nice to know you haven’t lost your sarcastic wit.”
“It’s nice to know you haven’t stopped eating your Wheaties. What do you weigh, three hundred pounds?”
Laughter bellows out of him. “One-ninety. But that still makes you a hero in my book. Now, come on. Let’s get you to solid ground.”
We climb down slowly, him staying behind me, caging me against the ladder with his body. I’m terrified, but at the same time, I’ve never felt so secure.
“Ten more feet,” he says. “Almost there.”
I feel myself start to fall apart with relief.
When his body moves away and he’s no longer surrounding me, I know we’ve reached the ground. As I go to step off the last rung, my head swirls in circles, my ears ring, and finally, I fall. I fall right into blackness.