Chapter Fourteen
Jamison
She was very brave, and I wish I could have known her. I lost someone I love, so I know “sorry” isn’t enough. My mother was sent on a rescue mission to the Copper Valley during the winter four years ago. You remember how bad it got that year? She didn’t take the warning to not take off from Cordova. She should have stayed up there rather than rushing home. Her plane went down, and she wasn’t responding. I rushed out, but by the time I got there, it was too late. She saved a man and got him to a safe place, but then she got stupid and rushed out of town before she should have.
The waitress comes to drop off the pizza by the time I finish writing. Claire’s arm has wrapped around mine, and she presses into my side deep enough that there isn’t any space to separate us. It’s the only reason I was okay writing my heart out on that piece of paper.
Claire reluctantly lets go of my arm and grabs a slice of pizza for me, then a slice for herself. She takes a bite, wipes the grease away from her fingers, and grabs the pen again.
Thank you for sharing her story with me. Isn’t that the place where your father’s from? Maybe it’s full of bad memories and she just wanted to get home to you? But I don’t remember Alaska that year because Maddie had us in the lower forty-eight.
I start reading. The pizza pauses midway to my mouth. Isn’t that where your father’s from catches me off guard, but so does the way she says her sister had them in the lower forty-eight. Not that she wanted to be there.
I grab the pen.
I don’t know my father or where he’s from. Did you not want to leave Alaska?
Claire’s face morphs in confusion. I never told her about my father, so I don’t even know why she’d make the assumption. I don’t know enough about him to share. Her hand forms a fist and makes circles on her chest to apologize.
I’m okay,I tell her.
Claire nods. She finishes her bite and picks the pen up. I’d probably never leave Alaska if I had the choice.If anything, her statement confuses me more.
You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to go,I write back, sliding the paper a bit so it’s easier to read.
She shakes her head, then takes a sip of her drink. It’s like I’m missing something but haven’t the slightest idea what.
We are twins. I always went where she went.
It’s not a relationship I understand, so I don’t argue. I don’t even have a sibling, so I can’t try to understand Claire’s relationship with Maddie.
But I can’t hold back from asking. Did she always go where you went?
The look Claire gives tells me no. I wonder if she’s had someone give it all up for her. If she’s ever thought she was worth it.
She’s worth it.
Claire slides the paper away, apparently done with the conversation. I would prefer to find better things to discuss than our loss during our date, anyway. I’m just happy I got her on a date somewhere this time. I think the fact she had less time to prepare—which meant less time to worry—helped. Or even better would be if she’s getting comfortable around me.
We finish up with small talk that we can do with signing. The more I’m with her, the harder I work to understand the language. There are so many variances, but Claire’s so patient with me. Anything I don’t know or understand, she spells the word out for me. The woman is gorgeous, and I can’t keep my eyes off her, but it’s not always her hands I’m watching. I have to have her repeat what she’s saying sometimes, but she’s still patient with me.
I pay the bill, leave a nice tip on the table, and walk Claire outside. It’s our last night together, and I’m ready to get back to her place and show her exactly how I think we could spend the rest of our time this weekend. The gentleman side of me checks that she doesn’t have any other plans herself since I am the one intruding into her weekend.
When she admits she doesn’t, I drive her to her house. Once we step inside, she works to remove her shoes. My eyes stay locked on her and the way that denim stretches across her curves. My mind has lost all focus when she slips her jacket off and the tight material of her shirt hugs her.
As she turns to face me, I slide into her space and steal her mouth in a deep kiss. It’s the only thing I can consider doing at the moment. She’s captivated me. As much as it’s her body and the way her eyes will take me in, it’s everything else about her too. The way she accepts me. The way she trusts me with those deeper parts of herself. The way she’s patient, unselfish with herself. So caring and sweet.
Everything Claire overtakes me. The way her fingers dive into my hair. The heady way she moans to let me know we’re on the same page.
I slide my hands down to hold her and lift. Her legs wrap around me. There’s something desperate that comes over us as she nips my lower lip. Her legs are locked around my waist, so I use my other hand to feel my way down the hall and toward her bedroom while her attention shifts to my neck.
When I turn us into the bedroom, I knock us against the door. Her laughter tells me she doesn’t even care, and her smile is pressing on my neck. With my arm locked around her, I finally find the bed and follow her down. Once she’s settled, I slide my hands up her hips, and when I reach her waist, I drag my hands under her shirt so I can take it with me.
The shirt gets stuck over her head, but she takes over so I can taste the newly exposed skin. I use my mouth to learn every curve and dip of her body. When I lift back up, she’s paused and has her arms locked in the cotton above her head. She’s watching me, her eyes a darker blue, the dangerous shade you see on a night flight thousands of feet in the air. It makes my heart pound harder in my chest. The blood rushes faster through my system. She’s dangerous in a way that promises me I’ll drown if I dare to take a plunge.
It’s not going to stop me. With her hands bound in such a way, she trusts me. She’s communicating in a way only we can. I unbutton her jeans with a deft flick of my hand. Her hips rise so I can remove the denim that encases her legs. My fingertips glide down her thighs as I work her jeans off. Claire’s head tips back, her body arching as her hands tighten into fists around her t-shirt.
I kiss my way back up her body. At some point she frees her hands; once I reach her mouth, she’s working on my shirt. Her hands make quick work of the material, and moments later, she’s pushing me back and breaking the kiss.
My worry is that I’m pushing us too quickly, until I find where her hand remains. I rest back and allow her to rise more. Her hand stays on the jagged scars that mark my body. I’m the one who wears scars not only emotionally, but physically. The ones that only solidify the reminder of my failure. Reminding me that I couldn’t save her.
Claire stares, her hand on the largest one that marks the front of my chest. When my focus was to rush into my mother’s crashed plane to free her, the jagged metal tearing at my body from the rubble hadn’t slowed my progress. Not when her body lay within it.
I reluctantly remove my hands from Claire’s body to explain. My only failure.
She rises on her knees and cups my face. The pain in her eyes is too much, so I dip my head down. I want to hide, but Claire won’t let me. She tears open the old wounds, the ones I want to bury and forget.
When I glance up again, there is no longer pain in her eyes, but a stronger hunger.