2. Aspen
ASPEN
Blake’s vehicle is like an extension of him—a large, older Range Rover—solid and comfortable.
I slip into the passenger seat, and he plugs the key into the ignition and brings the car to life. He turns some dials on the dashboard, and air, which heats quickly, blasts me in the face. I lift my hands against the heater and rub my fingers together.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod. “Much, thanks.”
“I think I saw a coffee shop a couple of blocks from here. We could probably have walked it in any other weather.”
“I know the place,” I say. “It’s pretty decent.”
I’ve lived in this town my whole life and it’s sad how few people I have to support me.
I know I’m not easy to be around. I never wanted to get close to anyone at school, always keeping potential friends at arm’s length.
If someone hurt or upset me, it was easier to cut them off than try to work through it.
I thought I was protecting myself, but ultimately, it’s meant I’m without friends.
I see other girls with their banter and affectionate relationships, and my chest feels hollow.
I want that, too, but it’s as though they’re speaking a whole other language.
When I try to join in, I’m awkward and stilted, and I feel like I’m either saying too much or not enough.
I can sense them wondering what the hell I’m doing and wishing I’d go away so they can laugh about me behind my back.
“Good. We’ll go there, then,” Blake says.
Blake drives the couple of blocks, the windshield wipers beating back and forth frantically, trying to keep pace with the steady flow of water. I’m glad we didn’t try to walk. I’m damp anyway, and though the heaters are doing a good job of warming me up, I don’t want to get wet again.
Within a matter of minutes, he pulls up outside the place he’d mentioned.
We both jump out of the Range Rover and run to the coffee shop, our jackets pulled over our heads. We burst inside with a jangling of bells above the door. Everything is damp and steamy.
“You hungry?” he asks as we find a table at the rear.
I slide into the seat opposite him. “A little.”
Before I can even pick up the menu, he lifts his hand to motion to the waitress and, without asking me what I want, orders us both sandwiches with a side of fries, and coffee.
Maybe I should be annoyed that he’s presumptuous enough to order on my behalf before I even got the chance to look at the menu, but it makes me wonder if he remembers how much I struggled—how much I still struggle.
I’m also grateful I haven’t had to make another decision.
There have been so many lately, my head has been buzzing with them all.
It feels good to have something taken out of my hands, no matter how small.
“How’s school going?” he asks, clearly trying to make small talk. “You haven’t graduated yet, right?”
I stare down at the table. “I dropped out.”
“What? Why?”
“Someone needed to take care of Dad.” I fiddle with a napkin. “It doesn’t matter. I was never very good at it, anyway. Not smart enough.”
“That’s not true. You’re plenty smart.”
I think of the folded piece of paper in my pocket containing what could only laughingly be called my notes. The thought embarrasses me, and then I get defensive.
“What would you know? You don’t know anything about me. I’m not the same girl I was when I was twelve.”
His tone softens. “It hasn’t been that long, Aspen. I know it might feel that way to you, but six years has flown by for me.”
“Well, it’s been forever for me.”
Our food and drinks arrive, carried by a waitress in her late fifties or early sixties.
Her gaze lingers a little too long on Blake, her cheeks pinking as he offers her a smile of thanks.
Blake always had this way with people, an ability to make them feel like they want to be in his presence, even when they don’t know him.
I suddenly find myself ravenous. I pick up the sandwich and alternate bites of food with sips of my drink. The coffee warms me from inside.
Blake eats as well, slower than I do. He watches me, his gaze drifting down to my mouth and lingering a fraction too long, as though something has caught his attention. Suddenly self-conscious, I wipe the corners of my lips, wondering if I have food there.
I have to ask him the question that’s been burning inside me.
“What happened between the two of you?” I blurt. “Why did you and Dad stop talking and hanging out? You used to be as close as brothers.”
He blinks and doesn’t meet my eye. “Sometimes people just grow apart.”
“You’re lying. Something happened to make you stop talking. What with my sister still missing, and Mom doing what she did… he could have really used your support.”
“We had a difference of opinion. One we couldn’t get past.”
I’m intrigued. “About what?”
He twists his lips. “Your dad didn’t like how I was parenting my son.”
I sit back, shocked. “You have a son?”
How do I not know this?
He reaches for his coffee, and I note the tattoos running down the back of his hands. His black shirt sleeve lifts slightly, and I can’t help my gaze following the ink up his strong wrist.
“Yeah. He can be a little… wild. Your father and I fell out about him. Your dad thought I let him get away with too much, and I didn’t think it was any of his business.”
“That’s the reason you stopped talking? It doesn’t seem like a big deal.”
“Parents can get protective over their kids.”
“I guess,” I say, though I know nothing about being a parent.
He takes my hand across the table. He has good hands—big and strong, with clean, blunt nails.
His skin is coarse, calloused, as though he does a lot of manual work.
I realize I don’t know much about him at all.
I don’t even know what he does for a living.
I’d always been aware of how different he’d been from my dad.
Rough and ready, where my father had always been well-dressed and conservative.
I stare down at where our skin meets, and a flush of heat races through me. It dawns on me that Blake is an extremely attractive man. He’s so much older, I know I shouldn’t be thinking of him in that way, but there’s something about him that makes it impossible not to.
It's just daddy issues, I tell myself. There’s an empty hole in my heart where my father used to be, and now I’m searching for something—or someone—to fill it.
Blake makes me feel protected, and I need that right now.
I haven’t had anyone else look after me in such a long time, my entire body practically aches with the need.
“I know you’re probably going to say no,” he says, “but I hate the thought of you not having anywhere to go. Even if you use it as a base to come and go as you please, I’d really like to offer you a room at my place.”
I pull my hand from his grip. “You haven’t got space for me.”
I’m making assumptions.
He gives a small laugh. “Your dad never told you about Windridge Hall?”
I frown. “Windridge Hall? What’s that?”
“It used to be a hotel, back in the day, catering to skiers, mainly. But the access proved to be tricky and it fell into ruin. I bought the place ten years ago, with the view of restoring it to its former glory. I hadn’t anticipated it would take quite so long or cost quite so much, but it’s given us somewhere to live, and I guess it’s home now, however unusual that might be. ”
I gawp at him. “You live in a hotel?”
“Well, a part of it. A lot is still shut off, waiting its turn to be renovated. We have one wing that’s been completed, and we live in that.”
I shake my head. “I can’t come and stay with you. I’d be an imposition.”
“Not at all. There’s lots of room, so you won’t feel like you’re living on top of us. I’m aware you’re an adult now.”
Us? Who does he mean by us? Does he mean his son, or is he married? Does he have a live-in girlfriend? I can’t remember a woman being at his side when I was growing up.
“I can’t, Blake,” I reply. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but it would be weird, don’t you think? I haven’t seen you for years.”
“What does that matter? I practically watched you grow up. I care about you. I’m not going to see you out on the street.”
I turn my face away. “I just… can’t.”
His tone hardens. “I insist, Aspen. You haven’t got anywhere to live, and I have room. It would be crazy for you not to come and stay until you get back on your feet.”
I have no idea when that might be. The only things I’m good at can’t exactly be used as a steady job.
“You can have visitors,” he continues, “like if your boyfriend wants to come and stay. You’re over eighteen. Obviously, I’d be fine with that.”
He clears his throat and glances away. He doesn’t seem fine. He seems like he’s got a piece of his sandwich stuck in his windpipe.
Blake diverts the subject slightly. “The mountain pass leading up to Windridge can become impassable when the weather gets particularly bad—I want to warn you of that. It can get a bit cabin feverish out there.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. How long does he think I’m going to be staying with him?
I realize I’m considering it. Perhaps it would be good to spend a little more time with my dad’s ex-best friend.
I think of all the stories he must have of when Dad was younger.
I’m not close to anyone else who’d been a part of Dad’s life.
No one else will want to talk to me about him.
I let out a breath. “Okay, what the hell. It’s not as though I have anywhere else to go.”
His expression brightens. “So, you’ll come?”
“When do you want me?”
“No time like the present, unless you’ve got somewhere else you’d rather be?”
I shake my head.
Blake pays for our order and leaves a sizable tip, then we head back to his vehicle. Thankfully, the rain has stopped.
Before I get the chance to walk around to the passenger side, he stops and turns to face me then pulls me in for a hug. The contact shocks me, and I stiffen, but he doesn’t release his hold on me. He lowers his face to the top of my head, and his breath warms my scalp.
“I’m not going to let you go until you give in and hug me back.” His voice is a deep rumble that vibrates through me.
So I do. I let out a long sigh and my muscles relax. He smells good, and I bury my nose against his chest. He’s so broad and strong, I instantly feel safe.
He releases me. “Sorry, I just felt like you needed that.”
I offer him a half smile, suddenly self-conscious and unable to meet his eye. “Yeah, I did.”
“And I can’t remember if I said it, but I really am sorry about your dad. The good ones always seem to go first.”
“Thanks.”
We both get in the Range Rover, the atmosphere now kind of awkward between us.
“My stuff is at Tobias’s house,” I tell him, “so we’ll need to stop by there first.”
“Tobias?” he questions.
“The boyfriend.”
He looks over the top of the steering wheel at the road ahead. “Of course.”
I wonder how Tobias is going to take the news that I’m leaving. Will he even care? It’s not as though he’s offered me anywhere to stay, except on a part-time basis.
I give Blake directions to get to Tobias’s place. Within fifteen minutes, we’ve pulled up outside.
“You want me to come in with you?” Blake offers.
“Better not. It’s going to be an awkward conversation anyway, if he’s even home.”
“Sure, I understand.”
I jump out and slam the door shut behind me. I pull my shoulders up around my ears and hunch as protection against the cold.