“Do you want to take another pill?” she asked.
Pete pinched the bridge of his nose. “Throw those things away,” he said, shaking his head. “They make me feel like shit.” He shifted toward the end of the bed, grimacing again. “I think I’ll get up. Take a shower.” He looked at her. “How are you doing?”
Cassidy smiled, but it felt forced. “I’m okay.”
Pete nodded.
“I’ll get you some coffee,” she said, turning to go.
When Pete emerged in jeans and a zip-up hoody, his eyes looked tired but the color had returned to his cheeks. Another wave of relief washed over her, but it didn’t last.
He added cream to his coffee from her fridge and took a sip. He joined her at the table. “Thanks,” he said.
Cassidy’s cup was long empty. A gust of warm air blasted from the heating vent near her feet, and she curled her toes over it.
Pete’s mind was working, she could tell by his expression. Over the past year while somehow finding ways to be together despite their unpredictable schedules and workaholic tendencies, she had become closer to him than anyone she had ever dated. She felt she knew him and he knew her. They had rousting, deep conversations, and even though their viewpoints differed, they never felt contentious. She could count on one hand the number of times the two of them had fought. The first had been about money: Pete had been surprisingly nonreactive to the news of her inheritance, just hurt that she had kept it from him for so long. The others had been about Pete’s chronic lateness and his tendency to take unnecessary risks in the name of “adventure.”
The past spring, they had been heading to Mt. Hood for a one-day blitz, planning to sleep in her truck so they could get a crack-of-dawn start the following day. Cassidy had woken from a doze to see the gas gauge on empty and no service station in sight. Her alarm had been brushed aside with Pete’s “Don’t worry, there’s gotta be a gas station out here somewhere.”
Cassidy had stared at him, remembering the many service stations they had passed earlier in the evening. “And if there’s not?”
Pete had replied with a shrug, “Then we’ll have an adventure.”
Cassidy had been appalled. “Getting stranded in the middle of nowhere is not an adventure. It’s a disaster,” she fumed.
“You know, there’s a fine line between those two.”
Sure enough, a tiny service station had appeared on the horizon, and her truck had shut down just as they coasted down the exit. While pushing the car the rest of the way, Pete had glanced at her, his eyes shiny with mischief. “See? Isn’t this more interesting?”
Through all of this, Cassidy felt as though she knew him, and understood him and how his mind worked. She knew Pete would like to know more about her, but talking about her past wasn’t easy, so he still didn’t know the details of her father’s death and the life she had endured at Pamela’s without him. Nor had she told him much about Luke until one night after she and Pete had made love, and Pete had accidentally hurt her. The memory of how Luke had treated her had come rushing back, and she had broken down. Pete had felt horrible. They had held each other in the dark, and she had told him about how her relationship with Luke had unraveled, how she had clung to him despite the warning signs, only to find out from a ski patrol coworker that he had been sleeping with their supervisor for months.
That night in the dark with Pete it had all come tumbling out: her humiliation and shame, the pain and shock, the doubt that she was lovable. Pete had held her, kissed away her tears, and promised that he would never hurt her again.
But now, here she was hurting though she didn’t know why. Pete was the one who had almost died. He was the one who should be upset. Cassidy felt trapped by her emotions and was afraid to tell Pete in case he thought her silly or crazy. But the thought of Pete dying because of her mistake wouldn’t leave her alone.
“I gotta call Dave,” Pete said, his eyes looking distant.
“At the Times?” she asked. “What, you want to write about what happened?”
He looked surprised. “Of course.” Then he saw her look of alarm, and the gears turned again in his mind. “C’mon,” he chided, “you’ll get to play the hero!”
“I don’t want to be the hero,” she replied, her stomach churning. “Interview Mark. I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance.” She suddenly wondered if Mark had pictures. She saw the avalanche coming toward her again and imagined it as front-page news.
Pete was gazing at her, as if trying to decide something. “You really don’t want in?”
Cassidy felt the tears brimming. “I really don’t.”
“Okay,” Pete said, his shoulders tense.
“I almost . . . ” Her breath caught. “I can’t . . . ” She wiped a tear with her fingertips.
Pete rushed to sit next to her. “Hey,” he said, pulling her into an embrace. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He held her close, and she could smell his clean skin and the broken-in cotton scent of his shirt. “Of course you don’t have to be in it. I’m sorry.”
Fourteen
Tofino, Vancouver Island, British Columbia
March 10, 2016, 7:00 p.m.
Cassidy started a fire in the wood-burning stove while Pete carried water from the outside pump. The getaway had been Pete’s idea. Since the avalanche, Cassidy felt as if she had lost the thread of her work. Sometimes she stared at her screen for an hour, the cursor blinking. A few times, she had taken the entire day off. Her advisor had granted an extension, though he demanded a strict deadline for her remaining dissertation chapters. Pete assured her that a few days off would do her some good. Though she sensed that he had brought her here for more than just to jump-start
