I had the brief thought that I’d be hard-pressed to sleep without her after this and the realization scared me. I’d admitted I loved her, if only to myself. But God, she’d broken me once. Destroyed me. And in so many ways, she was still locked behind those walls that had once kept me out, unwilling to step outside. Especially when it came to Theo.
I stood, calling Audra’s name softly. I was certain she’d left the shelter a few minutes before me to go to the bathroom.
The air this morning was bitter cold—it had to be close to freezing and I shivered, rubbing my hands together. I called Audra’s name one more time and then went to the break in the trees to call for her again in case she’d gone farther than normal. Normal. Jesus. How fucked up was it that anything about this situation was be
coming normal?
Stepping through the trees, I noticed Audra standing near the edge of the cliff, looking out over the ridges and peaks below. I made my way to her, walking up next to her to stand at her side. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she said softly, her lips tipping slightly but her eyes remaining on the landscape. I turned back, following her gaze, letting the beauty of the white wonderland in front of us wash through me. The sky was a pale, hazy blue, fluffy white clouds floating by. And below, the earth was covered in a blanket of clean, shimmery white. Everything sparkled and glowed, catching lazy shafts of sunlight and reflecting them back in twinkling radiance. It was breathtaking and for a moment I stared in awe, understanding why Audra hadn’t wanted to take her eyes off it for even a second.
“Do you believe in Heaven?” she murmured, her voice dreamy, soft.
I turned to her, studying her profile. That small, sloped nose, red from the cold, her stubborn elfin chin, and the sweep of her black lashes. Lashes that made those almond-shaped eyes of hers look even bigger, softer. “Yes.”
She turned to me then, tilting her head. “You do?”
I put my hands into my jacket pockets, breathing out, my breath rising quickly into the sky. “You sound surprised.”
Her delicate brows furrowed. “We just never talked about that.”
“We never talked about a lot of things, Audra,” I said quietly.
For a second she froze, an ice crystal among ice crystals, but then her shoulders relaxed and she shot me a smile, though it didn’t quite meet those expressive eyes of hers. “No, I suppose not.” She began to turn back toward our camp and frustration mounted inside me, so strong I almost stumbled.
Enough!
“Goddammit, Audra, don’t wall me out.”
She stopped in her tracks and looked at me, stunned, with a bare trace of anger in her expression. “Wall you out? I’m hardly walling you out. I just wanted to admire the view for a minute. Aren’t you the one who talked about small blessings a couple of days ago?”
I ignored her attempt to redirect, suddenly unwilling to skate around the subject. Not for one more ungodly second. “Do you believe in Heaven, Audra?”
She laughed, a small, brief sound of pain that was snatched by the wind almost as soon as she’d made it. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. I’ll get back to you when I do.”
“I think we should talk about it now.” I tried to say it gently, but she started to step away and frustration—resentment—raced through me. I reached for her arm, stopping her.
“Oh, Dane, not now. Not here. Our lives are on the line. Don’t we have enough to contend with? Do you really think this is the place or the time?”
“Maybe it’s exactly the place and the time.” I paused, as we stared at each other on this barren, white stretch of mountainside. “He was my son too, Audra. I should be able to talk about him. Especially with you. Of all the people on earth, I should be able to say his name and not have you turn away.”
She sucked in a small breath, stepping back. I released her arm and she took another step back, creating more space between us, an ever-widening divide.
“It will help, Audra,” I said gently. “We can help each other let go of some of that pain.”
“It’s too late.”
“It’s not, goddammit. Not if we decide it’s not. I haven’t been close to anyone like I was close to you. I want that again. I want—”
“Bullshit. You haven’t been close to anyone? What about Winnie? What about your fiancée? Are you telling me you weren’t close to the woman you were going to marry?”
“She wasn’t my fiancée. I never asked her to marry me. Do you want to know why?”
She shook her head rapidly, turning from me. “No! I don’t care. I’m starving and . . . freezing and . . . I don’t feel like talking about this. Not here. Not now.”
I followed behind her as she turned toward our camp. Her shorter legs took twice the time to do the work of trudging through deep snow, so I easily kept up with her. “I flew to Laurelton with the intention to ask my grandmother for her ring. But I was having doubts, reservations, and inside, I knew my heart wasn’t in it. I was only considering the possibility of marrying Winnie because it seemed like she expected it.”
She tried to pick up her pace, her face rigid with panic. I didn’t care. She was going to hear this.