The many near-death stories in Pete’s book started looping through her brain: the big wave surfer held down in giant surf, the mountain climber pinned by a shifting serac, the sailor washed overboard.
Cassidy took a wave in and headed for the cabin. The pale sun shone like an orb through the gauzy winter clouds, but it gave no warmth, and by the time she arrived at the doorstep she was shivering.
Steam rose from inside the outdoor shower, and she heard the water cascading into the cedar enclosure.
“Hey,” she called out.
“Hi!” he said. “Saw you take off on some bombs. How’d that feel?”
She sighed. There had not been any “bombs,” she was simply surfing the way she knew how. She sat down on the nearby bench to remove her gloves and booties, and then stepped into the shower. The hot water shocked her skin. Her feet turned bright red, and a painful pinpricking sensation spread through them as her reheated blood circulated. Pete had peeled the top of his wetsuit down to his waist, his skin pale after the long winter.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” she said, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.
Pete’s eyes flashed in confusion. “I told you I wouldn’t last long,” he said with a good-natured grin. “Plus, it’s a little sore,” he said, massaging his wrist. “I figured we’d meet back here.”
“Do you want to ice it?” she asked, distressed that he might be in pain. Cassidy peeled off her wetsuit and stood under the shower in her bikini, rinsing the salt and neoprene from her arms and legs.
Pete stripped to his trunks. “Maybe later. I’ll see how it feels.”
She stepped aside so he could rinse. “Would you have rather gone skiing?” she asked.
“No,” he said, then sighed when he saw her look. “We’ve always talked about coming up here.” He scrubbed his face one last time then gave her the water. “Would you rather I had gone skiing with Mark? Cuz Ginny is free,” he added, the light in his eyes telling her that he was making a joke, but her hackles bristled.
“I offered to help pay for this,” she snapped.
He looked shocked at her outburst. “That’s not how I meant it, Cass,” he said. “I wanted to bring you here.”
Cassidy felt her stomach twist into little knots. “I just . . . if you had wanted to go ski with Aaron, I would have understood.”
Pete shut off the water. “Cass, I wanted to go with you. Not Aaron or anyone else. You’re the one I want to spend time with.” The sharpness in his tone set her on edge.
Pete reached for the towels and they wrapped themselves in them. Pete gently took hold of her shoulders. “I thought we could use some time away. I know the last few months have been crazy.” He kissed her, and she tried to drink in his strength and confidence. To her dismay, she started to cry.
“Hey, what’s this?” Pete said, his concerned look unsettling her.
She swatted away the tears. “I feel like I’m bringing you down.”
“Cassidy, no,” he said, his grey-blue eyes sharp—like a hawk’s. “That’s not true.”
Cassidy shivered—the towel wrapped around her chest was no match for the cold, damp air. She was so confused. She should be riding high on her accomplishments, racing to her laptop every morning to tap out her final chapters, her brain buzzing with new ideas for research and papers to publish. Five years of hard work was almost complete! The future she had been dreaming of was within reach!
Suddenly, the shower house felt too cramped, and Cassidy hurried along the rocky path to the cabin. A blast of warm air hit her as she stepped inside. Pete must have stoked the fire before getting in the shower.
“Talk to me, Cassidy,” Pete said, rushing in after her.
Cassidy spun, surprised at the edge in his voice.
“Since the avalanche you’ve been distant.” He sighed a tight breath. “You’re drinking. You’re not writing your thesis.”
Cassidy’s face burned with shame.
“Is it me? Have I done something?”
Cassidy shook her head, unable to put her thoughts into words.
“It’s like . . . like you’re keeping something from me,” he said, his face so distressed she started crying again.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” he said quietly.
“No!” Cassidy said forcefully. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know what to think!” he cried. He ran his hand through his wet hair and sighed. Their eyes locked.
Cassidy opened her mouth but no words came out.
“This isn’t right, Cass.” He crossed his arms. “We have something good. Something special,” he said. “I feel like you’re throwing it away.”
“I’m not the one who almost died, okay?” she shot back.
“Oh, this is my fault? You think I enjoyed getting buried alive?”
“You’re sure having fun writing about it.”
Pete’s eyes widened. “Writing is my job, Cass.”
“I know,” she cried, tasting the salt from her tears. “Mark broke up with Tara,” she said, rushing to get it out. “When are you going to break up with me?”
“What?” His eyes popped open in shock. “Whoa, where did this come from?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her head throbbing.
Pete took a deep breath. “Cassidy, I’ve told you a hundred times that I love you. If anything, the avalanche made me realize just how much.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I know you’ve been through a lot,” he said. “I also know that the avalanche really tore you up, probably opened old wounds.” He let that hang.
A sob escaped her lips. “What if you had died that day, and I couldn’t bring you back?” she managed.
“But I didn’t die that day,” Pete said quietly. He covered the distance between them and took her face in his hands. “Cassidy, why can’t we get past this?”
Cassidy felt like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice. “I don’t know.”
He sighed. “It’s like no matter what I tell you, you want to argue about it or push me away,” he said, his gaze
