Chapter 5 #2
“OK,” I call. “Gonna try the slow, sexy limp now.”
“Please don’t die,” she yells back, voice too thin to be a joke.
“Not my plan!”
I start up the slope one step at a time, using the rope to take most of my weight. The snow gives way in sliding chunks under my boots, but the line keeps me from going full avalanche again. Every few steps my ankle complains with a hot shock of pain, but I grit my teeth and keep going.
It takes forever. Or maybe two minutes. Time is weird when you’re concentrating on not falling on your face in front of a woman who just performed an archery miracle to keep you safe.
By the time I haul myself over the lip of the slope, my lungs are burning and my whole leg is trembling.
Ally is there, snow dusting her hair, bow still in hand, eyes wild. She drops it the moment she sees me and closes the distance in three strides.
“You twat faced butthole! Are you insane?!” she demands, grabbing my coat sleeves. “What the hell happened?” Her voice breaks for real this time. She claps her mouth shut like she’s surprised by it.
“I’m OK,” I say, catching my breath. “Just a little -”
She punches my shoulder. Thankfully not the pained one, and thankfully not hard.
“Idiot,” she says. “You unbelievable, tit headed idiot.”
I smirk, basking in her concern and her inventive cursing. “I love you too,” I say, and then my brain catches up to my mouth way too late.
Silence drops between us like an anvil.
Her fingers tighten on my sleeves. Her eyes, already bright from the cold, go hotter, sharper. “Don’t,” she whispers, pulling me infinitesimally closer despite her plea.
I shouldn’t.
I know I shouldn’t.
I’m limping, half-frozen, riding a surge of adrenaline and stupid relief, and she’s close enough that I can count the snowflakes melting on her lashes. Close enough that I can see the tremor in her mouth.
She saved me. She’s shaking. I’m shaking.
And some deep, buried, selfish part of me surges up and takes the wheel.
Before I can stop myself, I lean in and kiss her.
It’s not planned. It’s not slow. It’s not the careful, ask-first kiss she deserves.
It’s a desperate, clumsy press of my mouth to hers, all gratitude and fear and ten years of swallowed, burning want bursting in one reckless, terrible decision. The longed for feeling of her lips on mine, making my head spin, and joy start exploding like dynamite through my system.
For half a second, she goes absolutely still.
And then her mouth softens… Impossibly, beautifully moves half an inch with mine…
That’s all it takes for reality to slam back in.
Ally shoves me away with both hands, hard enough that I stumble on my bad ankle and almost go down. Pain shoots up my leg. I catch myself on the rope rail, heart pounding for a whole new reason.
“What the hell, Nate?” Her voice is hoarse and furious and laced with something that sounds like hurt. “What was that?”
“I -” My mouth is dry. Shame floods my veins, hot and fast. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have -”
“You think?!” she snaps. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright with anger, with… something else. “You can’t just - you don’t get to -”
She breaks off, breathing hard.
Snow falls between us in soft, accusing flurries.
“I was scared,” I say, pathetic even to my own ears. “I thought I was going to break my neck and then you… you just…” I gesture vaguely toward the slope, toward the arrow, the rope, the impossible shot. Wildly insufficient explanation. “I wasn’t… thinking.”
There’s too much to say and not a single word that doesn’t sound like an excuse.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, because it’s the only true thing I have. I am sorry. “I shouldn’t have touched you. That was… that was out of line.” And it’s just hitting me how far out of line it really was.
She studies me, jaw clenched. The wind lifts a strand of hair across her cheek; she swipes it away with an impatient hand.
“Don’t do that again,” she says quietly. “Don’t make this more complicated than it already is.”
Something in my chest twists. “OK.”
“And don’t—” Her voice cracks, and she swallows hard. “Don’t use the fall as an excuse to cross a line we both know you’re not supposed to cross.”
The words land heavy. The line. The one I’ve been toeing since I was eighteen and she walked into my father’s house like a sunrise and made everything tilt.
“I won’t,” I say, throat tight. “I promise.” God, what have I done. She didn’t invite that kiss. Not really. I just took it without thinking. And that’s not the kind of man I want to be. What happened to me?!
She nods once, sharply. “Good,” she says. “Now get inside before you actually do fall off a mountain. I didn’t just perform archery Spider-Man shit so you could die of stubbornness.”
There’s a tremor under her snark. I cling to it, because it means she’s still speaking to me. The alternative is a lot worse.
I limp past her into the cabin, the warmth hitting my face in a rush. Behind me, I hear her untie the rope from the post, her movements quick and efficient, reclaiming control of herself, of the situation.
My lips still tingle from the contact they never should have had. My ankle throbs. My pride aches more. My heart… forget it.
I know this much: whatever mess was already simmering between us just boiled over. Bad.
And this time, the burn is entirely my fault.