Page 26 of Mountain Summons

11

Lena

Lena flexed her ankle carefully, wincing at the tight pull of the healing tendons. Not quite pain, but not comfortable either. Progress, according to her physical therapist.More like frustration.

At least the crutches were gone. That was something.

She exhaled. Three weeks. Three weeks of slow, careful steps. Of crutches, of ice packs, of listening to her body when half the time she had no idea what it was trying to tell her.

It wasn’t all bad. The swelling was down. The pain had mostly faded, to the point where it was hard to remember how much it’d hurt at first. She’d regained a lot of her range of motion and balance. She was nowhere near a hundred percent, but her physical therapist thought soon she’d be able to take off the brace in her day-to-day, and only wear it during so-called “high-risk” activities. But, until then, she was stuck withit, strapped tightly around her ankle as both protection and limitation.

At least she wasn’t stuck inside the house anymore.

She’d watched a lot of movies over the last weeks. Some of them with her father, who was making an effort to be more present—not necessarily at convenient times, but more present nevertheless. True to his word, he’d watchedCompartment No. 6with her, and even made them both popcorn. In exchange, she’d watched some action films, too, of the kind he preferred, full of explosions and predictable dialogue.

A flicker of movement caught her attention, and she shifted to avoid a small dog on an absurdly long leash. The sudden motion sent a sharp twinge through her ankle. Lena sighed, sucked in a breath, and slowed. She wanted to be back to normal. She wanted to move without thinking about moving.

She wanted?—

She rubbed at her temple.

She wanted lots of things.

Most of all, she wanted Tristan to stop haunting her thoughts.

Three weeks, and she still hadn’t been able to shake him from her mind.

She’d ignored his multiple calls and, though she hadn’t been able to stop herself from reading his texts, she’d kept her responses short, polite and impersonal. She didn’t want to ghost him—he didn’t deserve that—but she also didn’t want to encourage his attentions. Not when she’d already decided not to see him again. This thing between them, whatever it was, was already causing her pain. Letting him get closer would only make it worse.

And yet, the temptation remained. Every time her phone pinged, she wondered if it was him. Even worse, a part of herhopedit was him. She had to keep reminding herself that Tristanwas like her father—a man who breathed and lived his job. A man who wouldn’t put anything else ahead of his job. He was most emphaticallynotthe kind of man she needed in her life.

Except … her body disagreed.

A part of her, the reckless part, whispered that she could justusehim. That they might use each other.Just once. Just to take the edge off.God knows she needed some release, particularly now. She could get herself off, of course. Shehadbeen doing that. Except now, every time she closed her eyes, it was Tristan’s face she saw. Tristan’s mouth on hers, kissing her like he needed her as much as she needed him. Tristan’s hands on her body.Hisfingers pinching her nipples, slipping inside her, stroking her, making her quiver. And when she came, it was with his name on her lips.

That wasn’t healthy. She blew out a slow breath, shaking the thought from her head.

She turned on Rue la Mollard, staring at the shop window of one of the local pharmacies, which was decked out in spiders, cobwebs and …plastic rats?The effect was somewhere between cute and obscene. The whole town seemed to have gone crazy for Halloween. This was new. This didn’t use to happen when she was a child.

Something fell on the bridge of her nose. A snow flake. The first snowflake of the year. She looked up at the sky, trying to catch another one. Her mother had always made a big deal of this day when she was growing up—hot chocolate, candles, blankets on the couch. She missed her mother. She wanted so badly to call her and tell her … everything.

She was so distracted she walked past the café without realizing, and had to circle back.Shuffle back. Her ankle was starting to hurt. Maybe she’d overdone it today.

She wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to meet André. He was a reporter, and she didn’t like the thought of being in the spotlight.She also didn’t have that much to say about the topic beyond what was already public knowledge. She hadn’t even seen the full skeleton, only the parts that had been sticking out of the rock. But she and André had gone to school together and, when he’d called, it had seemed easier to meet with him than to make up some excuse.

He was already sitting at a small table by the window. He looked the same as he always had, except for his red hair, which was a little thinner, and the receding hairline creeping in where there hadn’t been one five years ago.

“Lena,” he said, standing up quickly, reaching for her hand. His palm was damp, clammy, and Lena undid the contact as quickly as she could, only just refraining from wiping her hand on the leg of her jeans. He was only a few inches taller than her, which of course made her think of another, much taller man.No.She wasn’t going to think of Tristan now.

She forced a smile, sitting down on the empty chair across from him. “André. How have you been?”

“Good, good. Tell me, what can I get you?

“Green tea, please.” That’s what she needed. Something warm. Something to detox her from all things Tristan.

André walked up to the counter and returned a minute later with a steaming mug.

“Thanks,” she said, curling her fingers around it.

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