Chapter 38

I like her. Right now, the real world is miles away. We have this bubble, and I’m making the most of the time I have to repair what I ripped apart. I’ve got no clue how this is supposed to work, but I’ll figure it out. Regardless of how her marriage was, it doesn’t change the fact she’s still married. We’ll deal with it eventually, and I’ll support her in whatever capacity she needs.

While standing in nothing but boxers and socks, I fill a pot with water and light the camp stove. We have to refuel after that. I grimace at the cubie sitting on the floor. With each day we’re here, the water line falls lower. It’s a stark reminder that our days in the lookout are numbered. The storm continues to rage, but for the first time, it’s not worse than the day before. As soon as we get a window of clear weather, we’ll have to move quickly.

I’ve been spending the afternoon poring over maps while we had proper light, and I think I finally found a decent route for us to follow. It’ll take longer, since we have to traverse over Goat’s Ridge, but it’s not nearly as steep and we can follow the riverbed to meet the main trail closer to the base.

Our biggest challenge will be the snow and wind at the top, but once we reach a lower elevation, we’ll be in better shape. This is the safest way back. I’ll still need to check the snow for avalanche conditions. If all goes well… then we should be good. The problem is, if we end up in trouble, anyone looking for us will be searching the trail, not Goat’s Ridge or along the riverbed.

With water boiling on the stove, I stare through the slats of the shutters. I can just barely make out the shadow of a nearby mountain peak. That’s a good sign. Until today, the constant snowfall has kept the visibility no farther than twenty feet or so.

Scottie snuggles under the covers, turning pages in her book while I prepare a meal for us.

“Are you feeling like chicken wild rice again or should we switch up and go with chicken noodle? Keep in mind, we are out of chicken...”

Her bright eyes find mine, and they still have that sparkle in them. Seeing her smile as if she’s completely forgotten about our predicament, is enough to make me forget too.

“Hmm. Could we use the leftover foie gras as a substitute?”

“We could, but the fig confit I made just went bad yesterday,” I reply, matching the bit.

“Aw, rats.” She snaps her fingers.

“Nope, we’re out of rats too.”

“Typical.” She flips a page and sighs. “These new rodent migratory patterns are getting ridiculous. I guess we’ll just have to use the caviar.”

“Good idea. Did you want the Beluga caviar?”

“Obviously. You know it’s the only one I can eat.”

“Because the other types make all your teeth fall out, right?” I ask, trying to make her break character.

She purses her lips, attempting to hide a smile. “Yes, and my dentist is already furious with me.”

“Well, I think he took issue because you insisted the dentures be made out of cadaver teeth. ”

She sits up in a huff. “What’s wrong with that?” she asks, dropping her book on the bed in faux frustration. “They look more realistic this way,” she adds, baring her teeth like an animal.

“I know, but was it necessary to use a horse cadaver?”

She covers her mouth. “Are you saying you don’t like my dentures?”

“Not at all. Sure, blowjobs are a little terrifying, but as long as I use an open palm…” I cough to cover a laugh. “But you’ve gotta quit making an enemy of the equestrian community.”

Her shoulders shake with silent laughter as she covers her face with her hands. She composes herself and picks her book up, shielding herself with it. “I’m really not supposed to talk about it without my lawyer present.”

I add the chicken noodle mix into the boiling water and stir. She picks up her novel again. “How’s your book?”

“I lost my page when I dropped it on the bed,” she says, chuckling and flipping through pages.

“I appreciate your commitment to the joke.”

“Anything for the fans,” she muses.

Only Scottie could keep me this relaxed while trapped in a lookout during a snowstorm. Her calm presence soothes my anxiety.

“It’s good though. Could use a little more romance, but whatever.”

“Yeah? Do you read a lot?” I ask.

“I do. I need to get a library card when we get back to Sky Ridge. What about you?”

Setting down the spoon, I cover the pot and brace my palms on the counter behind me, crossing my ankles. “Yeah, I usually have a book with me when I go on assignments. Or I’ll listen to audiobooks. Do you have a favorite?”

She sits up on the bed with her legs crisscross. “That’s a silly question. How could one ever choose a favorite book? ”

“Fair. Well, do you have a favorite genre?”

“Romance,” she blurts immediately.

I grin. “What do you like about it?”

“Love stories are… an escape. In Arkansas, they were my only escape.” She sets her book down again, fidgeting with her hands. “My marriage was obviously complicated. I didn’t even know books like that existed until a coworker, Sheila, was talking about one she’d read. Women in our community weren’t allowed to read books like that.”

“That blows my mind.”

“At first, I would just ask Sheila about what she was currently reading. The things she said were so exciting and taboo. Then my curiosity got the better of me and I was able to get a library card in a neighboring town.” My chest aches for her. She may not have had a loveless marriage, but the way she looked at me when she thanked me for making her feel wanted says a lot. In addition, I’m guessing the passion wasn’t off-the-charts either.

“When I wasn’t working, I would go to the library and read all the forbidden books. It was exciting and fun, and even though it was fiction, it felt more real than anything I had with Jonathan. I craved it, the way two characters wanted to tear each other's clothes off. They wanted to be together. It was passionate and wild. The woman’s pleasure mattered. It was for more than reproduction… I know that’s not always realistic, but I just needed to experience a piece of it.” She glances down at her book and runs her fingers over the pages. “Did you know you were the first man to make me come? I experienced more passion in the back of that ambulance in Oregon than in all fourteen years of marriage. Pathetic, right?”

Holy shit. Based on the way she talks about romance, I assumed she wasn’t getting a lot of orgasms in her marriage, but to be the first ?

“I felt like I missed out on so much. I’m not sure how to explain what our relationship was like, but it wasn’t the love stories I read about. The ones that made my heart hammer and my face flush. The ones that gave me butterflies.” Her voice cracks. She’s smiling, but her eyes are filled with tears and the longing for something real. I give her the space to continue.

“Then one day, we were called to an accident on the highway. The woman in one of the vehicles died on impact, she was the same age as me, and I realized I didn’t want to die without knowing what real love felt like.” She sniffs and pushes down the emotion, swiping her fingers under her eyes.

Do I know real love? At one time, I thought I did.

“Molly and I grew up together. We were high school sweethearts. She was my everything, we were engaged and waiting to save up enough to give her the wedding she always dreamed of. When I found out about the affair—which was with Dave—I didn’t fight for her, I just left.” Scottie and I only knew each other for a few weeks when I discovered she was married. Walking away from Scottie was harder.

Being trapped with her in a fire lookout, even on our worst day, was better than my best day with Molly.

I haven’t known the woman across from me for long. When I think of how we began, the passion and excitement we shared… I have a better understanding of what those experiences must have meant to her. That was her first taste of something real, and knowing I stole it back without so much as an explanation has me hanging my head in shame.

“ Molly ? Molly was your ex?”

“Yeah.”

“And Dave?—”

I nod.

“Fuck Dave!” she shouts. “And he insinuated we slept together? God, no wonder you were freaked out. ”

“Scottie, I never should have listened to him. I’m sorry for how things ended between us.” I’m sorry they ended, period.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you?—”

“I should have communicated with you better, at least confronted you. Instead, I cut and ran.”

“You reacted the way anyone would, seeing Dave leave my place must have drudged up a lot of painful memories. I should have told you about Jonathan. Looking back, I understand how messed up it was to keep that a secret… I should have waited for the divorce, I know that. It’s easy to say that I’m waiting to get established, but it only kicks the can further down the road. I’ve been avoiding it. Marriage is final in accordance with the church. It’s a covenant. But I can’t hide from them forever like a coward.” She sweeps her fingers under her eyes and clears her throat. “Anyway, how’s the caviar coming along?”

I shove off the counter, lifting the lid on the pot, and stirring the soup. “I think we’re ready to eat.” I still feel like shit, but I’m not about to make this about me.

She must sense my emotions, because she hops off the bed and crosses the room, wrapping her arms around me from behind while I dish out the soup for us.

Scottie rests her cheek against my back and whispers, “Are you going to feed it to me with an open palm?”

I bark out a laugh, appreciating the levity. I hand her a mug and one of the protein bars sitting out on the counter. We settle on the bed across from each other with our hot meal.

“Found a route for us to take back,” I say. “The storm is slowing down, we might be hiking in two days.”

She nods, swallowing a bite.

“Are you nervous?” I ask.

Her brow furrows, and she shakes her head. “No. I trust you… Besides, your life depends on me just as much as mine does on yours.”

I blow on a spoonful of soup. “Why’s that? ”

She pauses, bringing her spoon to her mouth. “Seriously? Your face would be plastered all over the news networks, they would think you off’d me.”

“You’re fun.”

“I know,” she replies. “So, what do you want to do for the rest of the day? I don’t think I can play another round of Battleship with you. No offense.”

My mouth tips up in a smile. “Too boring?” I ask.

“It’s not enjoyable if there’s no challenge.”

I push my tongue into my cheek with an amused grin. “Such a smart mouth,” I mutter, tangling my legs with hers.

“Maybe you should do something about it.”

I cock my head to the side and smirk, enjoying this sassier version of her. “I’ve got no problem training your mouth.” I drop my spoon in my mug and lean forward to lift her chin and press my lips to hers. I pull back, our gazes meet, and I study her face. My hand drops, and I return to my meal, but not without first noticing the pink that fills her cheeks.

“What, um…” She wavers.

I eat while she collects her thoughts.

“What happens when we get home?”

“Well,” I say on a sigh. “We gotta contact your boss. I had Matt try to call you when I couldn’t get through, but I never explained why. I’m not sure if he’s going to try to reach out again and worry about you. You mentioned you’ve got work in a couple days, right?”

She nods.

“I have a feeling you’re going to be quite popular when we make it back. We’ll need to get that cut on your forehead checked out too.”

“Do you think I’ll get fired?”

“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “They’re gonna be worried about you more than anything. You’ll probably be getting casseroles brought to your door for the next two months. ”

She stirs her soup. “What about you?”

“Xander, King, and I have a pretty active group chat. I texted with them after I returned from my hike. I’m sure they’re wondering why I haven’t been very chatty, but fire season is over, so it’s not like my job is waiting for me or anything. I doubt the boys have sent out a search party yet, but two days from now… who knows.”

“And us?”

I bring the mug to my mouth and drink the rest, then place it on the windowsill beside me. Scottie’s had a few bites, but she’s mostly swirling her spoon around. Her brows are creased with worry. She may not be concerned about our trek back to the trailhead, but it seems she’s got a few reservations once we return to Sky Ridge.

“What do you mean?”

“So, this continues back home too?”

I chuckle. “Yes.”

“What about Jonathan?”

“I think you’re the only one that can answer that question.”

“I can’t afford a lawyer yet,” she says. “I wish he would have just come with me in the first place.”

Grabbing behind her knees, I pull her closer. “Do you think he would fight you on the divorce?” She doesn’t need a lawyer if he’s in agreement.

She pauses for a second to consider the question. “Not if he knew how good it was on the other side. He’s just scared to take the first step. The church will pay for his attorneys, and they’ll turn hostile if he wants them to. It’s not just a divorce, if he doesn’t remarry, they’ll likely force him into conversion therapy. If he leaves, it’s exile from everything he knows.”

“Do you have assets together?”

“I’ve already forfeit everything. Our house was on the church property.”

I narrow my eyes. “Like a compound?”

“Like a town .”

That seems a tad excessive. “A church can’t own a town.”

“But they can run one. All of the businesses are owned by the church. The local government is made up of members. It’s not a huge municipality, but it’s big enough. And it’s growing.”

“Is that legal?”

“Separation of church and state only exists if there’s someone willing to enforce it. The church can legally own businesses as long as they generate income for the church . The town feeds the church, and the leaders profit, returning just enough money to the congregation to ensure no one has enough to leave and start a life somewhere else.”

“How could they be growing? Who would sign up for that?”

“You’re looking at it from a logical perspective. We’re talking about religion. Faith can make people do terrible things in the name of God. Throw in a charismatic leader who can pander to the public and mold their beliefs, and it's not long before they are showing up every Sunday and opening their checkbooks. Everybody wants to go to heaven.

“They’re great at recruiting with the promise of taking care of their flock, not to mention the religious guilt and constant threat of making sure our community stays pure and idyllic by severing ties with anyone who tries to make an exit.”

“How many people have tried to leave?”

“That I know personally? Just me. I’ve got no clue what Jonathan’s been going through. I feel awful, but I had to make myself disappear.”

“So you just snuck out in the middle of the night?”

Scottie shakes her head. “Jonathan knew what my plans were. He said ‘If you leave, I’ll never be able to talk to you again,’ and I told him that was a choice that he was making, but that I’d be ready to help him whenever he was ready to go.”

I give her a long stare. “This sounds like a cult.”

She shrugs. “Fundamentalist church? I’m not ready to call it a cult yet. It makes me feel like I’ve abandoned him and everybody else there. I chose myself over others. It’s selfish.” Her voice breaks.

“You made the right choice.” I knead her thigh with my palm. “You’re not selfish.”