Page 57 of A False Start
Nadia
I can feelthe cool air descending over the mountain, the elevation chasing all the late summer warmth away as the sun falls over the Cascades.
I’m addicted to the view up here. The sweeping green valley, the little square properties below, all different colors, making the stretch of land appear like a pixelated image. Each square with a different shade of green. The way the roads wind through the perfect squares, the lights that are twinkling under the magenta sky.
It’s a visual I want to remember. I close my eyes and sigh deeply, as though I can imprint it into my mind by sheer will.
A single inhalation has the scent of pine and fresh mountain air swirling around me, and before I can even hear his approach, I canfeelhim.
Since that first night, it’s been this way. Some sort of invisible link between us. Like our connection is bigger than who we are, where we’re from, or how old we are. All of that is just background noise when he looks at me—touches me.
Anything that might be wrong melts away with the rightness of us.
A twig snaps beneath his gentle footfalls, and I shiver. A thrill races down the column of my spine just as the smell of cinnamon sluices through my senses.
The man has ruined an entire spice for me. I’ll never smell it or taste it without thinking of him.
I’m not sure I’ll ever stop thinking about him.
I pull the soft wool blanket tighter around my shoulders as though it might protect me from how flayed open and vulnerable I feel around him.
I’ve been far more exposed with other men in my life, but I’ve never felt more powerless than I do around Griffin. The way he looks at me and sees more than I want him to...
Ihateit.
“Hi.” A simple one syllable word and a chill blooms out across my chest.
I tug the blanket tighter. I’ll strangle myself with the damn thing if I have to.
“Hi.” My voice is barely a whisper as I focus even harder on the valley and sunset that stretches before me, trying so hard not to show my hand as he comes to stand beside me.
I’ve already said too much tonight, been all emotional and bitter when the man merely tried to make a joke with me about how he doesn’t talk much. My molars clamp down as I think about what I said to him before disappearing to this spot to chase a little privacy. A little room to breathe.
Could I have been a more precise embodiment of a whiny baby sister if I tried?
“Pretty good aim you’ve got, Wildflower.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, a suitably safe spot for them.
I sigh. “Yup. Once Stefan left for good, I realized I needed to be prepared to defend myself if things took a turn for the worse.”
A pained choking sound jumps from the thick column of his throat, and he goes entirely still.
“So that’s what I did. He turned his fists on meonce. And I knew in that moment that I wasn’t going to become his punching bag for long. I knew I’d find a way out. I learned how to shoot a gun. I didn’t just get good, I gotgreat. So that when he came to my room, I could pull it out from under my pillow and turn the situation around. And I did. I never pulled the trigger, but I aimed it at him and seriously considered it. I was just young and stupid enough to think it didn’t affect me. That I could spend long hours at a shooting range and feel safe again. That I could move across the world and feel safe again. That he could go down in a fiery crash, and I’d feel safe again. But I only stopped sleeping with a gun under my pillow a year ago.”
I shiver, even though I’m not cold, and his head snaps in my direction. This time, I can’t stop myself from taking him in. Messy, manly perfection, with his hair looking disheveled after putting our tents together, and a few locks flopped over his forehead. My stomach flips at the sight, a perfect contrast to the heavy aching in my chest.
“Hey, hey,” he says tenderly, stepping closer to me and instantly wrapping a comforting arm around my shoulders. His opposite hand comes up to cup my face as his calloused thumb brushes across my cheek, smearing wetness in its wake.
I’m crying.
“Do you have any idea how strong you are?” His cinnamon breath warms the air between us as he cranes his head down to capture my gaze. “How much you’ve overcome? How determined and inspiring you are?”
I press my lips together against the ache in my throat and tilt my head, more tears falling as I do. “I don’t feel strong.” My voice cracks.
A deep rumble takes root in his chest. It vibrates straight through my body as he pulls me into a crushing hug, wrapping his muscled arms around me and pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. My eyes hook on the spot where his black tattoo peeks up over the neckline of his white shirt in the most enticing way.
“I haven’t lived through half the shit you have. And I took off up here to hide from my life. The first sign of adversity, and I fucking crumbled. Partied so hard that I almost lost everything. And then locked myself away up in the mountains where I could wallow in my shame.”
“We all do the best we can with what we’ve got. Trauma is a tricky bitch,” I say as I clutch his white shirt in my fists and nuzzle into the warmth of his firm chest, allowing myself to soak up the safety in his arms—even if it won’t last for long.
