Last Summer: A Novel

by Kerry Lonsdale

  “Hell, no,” he says, laughing. “Limits, Skye. I know mine.”

  She smiles and glances at the voice recorder. The red light blinks. It’s getting late and they have a long day tomorrow, but there’s one last thing they must discuss.

  “Let’s talk about the day your son died,” she says in a measured voice.

  Nathan folds his hands in his lap. “All right.”

  “Do you think you can walk me through that day?”

  He takes a moment, then nods.

  “I was on location,” he says, shifting on the couch. He runs Ella through his morning, how he spoke with Carson on the phone. His son had watched the wingsuit flying episode the night before and couldn’t stop talking about it. Carson convinced Nathan to take him flying when he was old enough. Nathan promised he would, and Carson said he was going to practice so that he’d be ready.

  “I should have taken him seriously. By practice, I figured he meant . . .”

  “Meant what?” Ella prompts when he doesn’t say anything for a moment.

  “A good father would have told his son how much he loves him and that he’d be home soon, right?” He looks at her beseechingly and Ella feels herself nodding. “I didn’t do that. My mind was elsewhere. We were filming that day and I had to mentally get into the zone. Justin Turner, the actor who starred in that sci-fi blockbuster last summer?”

  “Titan Rising? Yes, I know who he is.”

  “He was my celebrity guest. He’s a kick-ass mountain biker and we were riding some steep and narrow routes that day in Moab. So, yeah, I needed to focus. What I should have done was listen to Carson. I should have called back.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, then leans forward and rubs his face. “This never gets easier.”

  Ella rests a hand on Nathan’s thigh. “What doesn’t? Talking about Carson?”

  Face hidden in his hands, he nods.

  “How did he die, Nathan?” she asks gently.

  He lifts his head and looks pointedly at her. “Wrong question. Ask me why I canceled the series.”

  “Okay,” Ella says, unsure as to where he’s going with this. “Why did you cancel your series?”

  “Carson died after watching one of my episodes, the wingsuit flying one I told you about. My guest and I glided off cliffs. Flying like that is one of the best thrills I’ve experienced. I remember looking directly into the camera and telling my viewers, ‘If there’s anything you should do before you die, it’s wingsuit gliding. Put that on your bucket list.’

  “After he got off the phone with me, Carson crafted a makeshift flight suit. He climbed the giant pine in his grandmother’s backyard where he was living at the time with Steph. He was intent on flying, just like his dad, and he jumped.”

  “Oh, my god.” Ella gasps into her hand and grasps his forearm at the same time.

  “He shattered both legs and hit his head. Steph found him unconscious at the base of the tree.” He pinches the inside corners of his eyes, squeezing them shut, and exhales roughly through his nose. “He never woke up.”

  Tears flow down Ella’s cheeks. For Steph to find their child broken and unconscious? She has no words. She wipes her face with her palms, sniffling. The noise catches Nathan’s attention. He looks directly at her.

  “Do you see why I canceled the series? Do you see why I never want to go back to television again? My son mimicked my stunts. I’m positive there are other kids out there doing the same. I don’t want their injuries, their deaths, on my conscience. One death, my son’s death, is one too many. What you need to understand, what I want you to get across in this article, is what Steph has known all along. I am to blame. My son’s death is on me.”

  Nathan stands. He strides past her and goes to the window. Bottled energy pulses through him. He fidgets, tapping the window with his knuckle, the force increasing with each knock. He makes a fist, and for a horrifying second, Ella fears he’ll thrust his arm through the glass.

  “Nathan.”

  He turns around. Their eyes meet and something unspoken passes between them. Ella disregards she’s here on assignment. She dismisses the fact that they’re both married. And she stops resisting the urge to comfort him the way he needs. Turning off the recorder, she goes to him.

  Tension vibrates from his body when she stands before him. She touches his arm, rests a hand on his cheek. “Nathan,” she whispers.

  He threads his fingers in her hair. “What is it about you?” he murmurs.

  She doesn’t know. His touch doesn’t seem familiar, but it feels safe and right.

  That alone should scare Ella more than anything, but she doesn’t move away. Instead, she draws closer.

  Nathan leans down until their lips are a breath apart, and even though Ella knows what’s coming next, she doesn’t feel any guilt, only the desire to ease his heartache.

  They kiss, more chaste than deep, and it doesn’t last long.

  Nathan rests his cheek against hers. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmurs. “Let me just hold you.”

  “Okay,” she whispers and kisses his neck. Because for now, that’s what he needs. It’s what she needs, too.

  She slips off her shoes and lies down, fully clothed, on the bed. Nathan turns off the lights and, after removing his own shoes, joins her on the bed, drawing a blanket over them and her into his arms.

  “Thank you,” he whispers, dropping soft kisses in her hair, light and airy, and soon, Ella feels herself drifting off, thinking of their conversation about his son. Hopefully, tonight he can find some peace.

  Ella wakes in a darkened room, foreign with unfamiliar scents. She lies on her side and slowly, like pausing a TV show to take in the scene’s details, waits for her eyes to adjust.

  Nathan’s hotel room. Nathan’s bed. Nathan beside her.

  Light spills from the bathroom and onto the bed in a blanket of molten gold. Nathan breathes steadily, watching her.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hi.”

  He gently touches her face, gliding his thumb along her lower lip.

  “How long have you been awake?” she asks.

  “Not long.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Two a.m., I think.”

  He trails his hand lower, his fingertips lightly dancing along the curve of her neck, the neckline of her shirt. He stops at the top button and their eyes meet, his questioning. His lips part.

  “Yes,” she whispers before he can ask. She wants this. She wants him.

  He leans into her and tenderly, gently, presses his lips to hers. That’s all it takes, that one light touch to ignite what’s been simmering between them, what’s always been there.

  They shed their clothes, fumbling with zippers and buttons, kissing, touching, and discovering. When he presses Ella to her back and settles between her legs, she expects him to plunge into her and drive them to the edge with the same ferocity she witnessed him display in his episodes. But as he’s done since she arrived at his house earlier in the week, he surprises her. He takes his time. Savors her. Worships the curves and planes of her body, pushing her higher until she peaks.

  Before she can catch her breath, Nathan’s forearms frame her head as he supports his weight. He grasps her hands, threading his fingers with hers. “You okay?”

  “Very.”

  They share a smile and then Nathan eases into her, all the way, and stills. Ella releases a steady moan. God, he feels so good.

  But she needs more.

  She squeezes his hands and, planting her feet on the mattress, attempts to raise her hips. He doesn’t budge.

  “Move,” she grunts. She needs pressure. There. She aches.

  Nathan rocks into her. He moves with purpose, searching for a connection. And Ella’s right there with him.

  Aurous light highlights the rigid angles of his face, heightens the blue in his eyes, which hold on to hers.

  “I wish you remembered us.” Spoken against her lips.

  So does Ella.

&nb
sp; She looks inward, hoping, praying, this might be what it takes to lift the veil in her mind. But she doesn’t remember. Being with him in this way isn’t familiar. Just different. So different from Damien. Nathan’s broader, heavier. His scent sharper, provocative and arousing.

  “El.”

  Her name is a breath of air and she feels a sting behind her eyes.

  Nathan’s making love to her as though they belong together. How could she ever have forgotten what it feels like to be with him? How could she have forgotten him?

  Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she gives herself over to her feelings. She gives herself over to him. And soon, they’re crashing, falling. Tumbling into bliss.

  Afterward, once they’ve cleaned up and turned off the bathroom light, Nathan curves his body along the back of hers. He holds her hand.

  This isn’t good, Ella thinks, because it feels too good.

  Sex with Nathan didn’t unblock her memories of him. What it did do, however, was make her question her own feelings. How easily she could fall for him, which only makes her more determined to learn the truth.

  What happened between them last summer? Did she leave, or did he send her away?

  Ella gives his hand a squeeze. “We have to talk,” she whispers in the darkness.

  “I know. Tomorrow.” He nips her shoulder, kisses away the sting, and promptly falls asleep. But when she wakes in the morning, the bed is empty.

  Ella sits up, anxious. Nathan’s duffel and ski bags are still in the room, but he’s not. He probably went to fetch coffee. She flops back on the pillow and looks at her phone to check the time. Numerous notifications display from Damien.

  Damien.

  Guilt sours in her stomach. She can’t bring herself to read his texts, not when she’s still in Nathan’s bed with his scent all over her.

  She’ll deal later, she reasons, looking at the time. They have several hours before they have to leave for the airport. She needs those hours to skim through last night’s recording and organize her thoughts. Tossing aside the sheets, Ella quickly dresses, leaving Nathan’s room and, god willing, her guilt behind.

  Nathan knocks on her door around noon.

  “May I come in?” he asks when she opens the door. He sounds exhausted, and he looks just as bone-weary, a contrast to Ella, who’s been in work mode. She rubs the back of her neck, tense from leaning over her keyboard.

  “Sure.” She opens the door wider and he glides past, carrying with him the scents of Anchorage—oil, fish, and ice. His nose is red and cheeks rosy. He’s been out in the cold for some time.

  “Everything okay?” she asks, her mind on last night. Does he regret what happened? Surprisingly, she feels more relaxed than she has in months. Probably because she’s been productively working and not dwelling on the possible consequences. Her phone, loaded with Damien’s unread texts, is burning a hole in her back pocket.

  “Yep . . . um. No. Not really.”

  He glances down at his jacket as though surprised it’s still on. He shrugs it off and tosses it on the bed.

  “Where’d you go this morning?” She was disappointed he wasn’t there when she woke up. He promised they’d talk in the morning.

  “I went for a walk. I’ve been on the phone since it woke me. Steph’s attorney called, then I called mine.” He plants his hands on his waist and exhales. “I’m going to sign the divorce papers.”

  Ella blinks in surprise. “You sure that’s what you want to do?” Nathan has been separated for over a year. She wonders if last night has anything to do with his decision.

  He shrugs. “Our marriage was over long before Carson died. And no”—he gives her a look—“this has nothing to do with what happened between us. What is happening. I made my decision about Steph months ago.”

  “But I thought the article—”

  “It was never about getting her back.” He closes the distance between them. “It’s about getting her forgiveness.”

  “Oh.” She frowns. She’d been so sure of his motivations and he’d never corrected her. She looks at her black socks, her feet almost toe-to-toe with Nathan’s boots. The way she sees it, Nathan doesn’t need Stephanie’s forgiveness. He needs to forgive himself. But self-forgiveness can’t be forced. She knows that firsthand. Grace died nearly twenty years ago and Ella still feels guilty about the way it happened.

  Nathan cradles her head, tilting up her face. His eyes search hers. “What about us? Are we good?”

  “Yes. We’re good.” They share a smile.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke. I wanted to spend the morning making love to you.”

  “And talking,” she reminds him.

  He rests his forehead on hers. “Yes, talking. I want to do that, too. Tonight, promise. Meanwhile . . .” He dives in for a quick, hard kiss, pulling away on a moan. “We have a plane to catch. Only flight out of here today. As much as I want to drag you back into bed, we can’t miss it.” He looks at the clock. “Meet you in the lobby in twenty?”

  She agrees. Grabbing his jacket, he steals another kiss and leaves her to pack.

  CHAPTER 23

  Surrounded by the glacial peaks of the Chugach Mountains, Cordova is a quaint coastal town in Southeast Alaska. Ella’s weather app tells her the temp’s in the low forties, but the air nips and the wind bites. Cold and damp, it feels like it’s in the thirties. Ella bundles her jacket around her as they step outside to meet their ride.

  Scott Burgess, the owner and operator of Backcountry Descents, is there to meet them. A wiry man with a sun-bronzed face and chapped hands, he shakes Nathan’s hand vigorously, clearly delighted to have the Nathan Donovan joining him. He’s even more enthusiastic when Nathan introduces Ella, explaining that she’s writing a feature on him for Luxe Avenue. Scott isn’t the least bit shy asking for a mention.

  “You can find whatever you need to know about our operation on our website. But please”—he presses his palms flat together—“ask me anything.”

  “Will do,” Ella says, all but lunging into her seat when Scott slides open the courtesy van’s door, desperate to get out of the cold. Nathan sits in the front passenger seat.

  Scott loads their gear and luggage into the back and settles in the driver’s seat, popping his arm over the seatback so that he can face both her and Nathan.

  “So, friends, we have a situation. This season’s been epic. The lodge is at capacity. I don’t have an extra room. The one we booked for you”—he nods at Nathan—“can sleep four. You got a queen and a pullout sofa. I’ve secured a room at the B&B in case”—he looks at Ella—“you prefer separate rooms. I mention this now because we drive through town and can drop off your stuff before we make our way to the lodge.”

  Nathan shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.”

  “As long as you take the couch,” Ella quips. After last night, it would be hard for her not to share a room with him.

  “Great, then let’s get you guys to the lodge.” Scott shifts the van into gear.

  “How’s tomorrow looking? Think we’ll get on the mountain?” Nathan asks as they leave the airport.

  “We’ll know in the morning, but it looks promising. I expect we can get in eight or so drops.” For Ella’s benefit, Scott goes on to explain that with a fleet of three helicopters and over a thousand square miles of terrain that boasts runs upward to eighteen hundred vertical feet at fifty-five-degree inclines, weather must be constantly monitored for the safety of his pilots, guides, and guests. Any red flags in the weather pattern or risk of avalanche and it’s a down day. No flying.

  “Is it even safe?”

  “Heli-skiing? It wouldn’t be the most epic of skiing experiences if it was,” Scott retorts and Nathan grins. He gets it. Skiing fresh lines down a glacial mountain face comes with heavy consequences. But for thrill-seekers of big-mountain skiing, heli-skiing delivers. It’s the pinnacle of the recreational sport.

  “Have you heli-skied before?” Ella ask
s Nathan.

  “Twice. Silverton in Colorado and Ruby Ridge in Nevada. This is my first trip to Alaska.”

  “You’re in for a treat, friend,” Scott promises.

  Ella’s done her share of black diamond runs, but what Scott’s described sounds pretty dicey. Nathan might be an expert skier, but she’s nervous for him. She also wants to watch. She’ll ask him later if he can secure a spot for her on the copter. On Luxe’s dime, of course.

  Backcountry Descents is ten minutes north of the airport and right on the water. The outfit used to be an old cannery and houses a lodge, helipad, and hangar. Scott tells them they have a restaurant on-site for their meals, and to finish off their days, the facility has hot tubs and saunas.

  He parks the van and they get out. “Why don’t you guys get settled in your room. Dinner’s not for another hour but come down and have a beer. I’ll introduce you to my crew.”

  “Sounds good.” Nathan shoulders Ella’s bag when she reaches for it. “I got it.”

  “Thanks,” she says. A wall of ice-sharp wind coming off the channel barrels into her back. “My gosh, it’s cold.”

  Scott grins. He unloads Nathan’s duffel and one of his two ski bags.

  “Let’s get the lady inside.” Nathan grabs his other bag. Ella couldn’t agree more.

  They follow Scott into the heated lodge. It feels like heaven. Nathan checks them into their room.

  The sun doesn’t set for another hour, but the light is waning. Ella turns on the lamps in their small room. The queen bed and sofa eat up the floor space, which doesn’t give her and Nathan much room to move around once they set down their gear. The room’s style and color are tired but comfortable.

  “You really don’t mind sharing?” Ella asks Nathan when he finishes in the bathroom. Aside from the inconvenience of having the courtesy van shuffle her back and forth to an inn in town, she doesn’t want to be too far removed from Nathan, not when they need to have one final conversation.

  “No, what about you? You’re the one who’s married.” His tone is teasing, but Ella detects a note of ire. He doesn’t like that she’s attached.