by Minard, Tori
“Gage? Is that really you?” She sounded drunk.
I sighed. Just business as usual for Nancy Dalton. “Yeah, Mom, it’s me. I’m alive and well, just snowed in.”
“Oh, God. Oh, my God. You’re still alive.” She started to cry. “I thought you were gone. I thought he’d gotten you. Just like he did Jeremy.”
“No, he didn’t. I’m fine, just like I said.” I kept my gaze fastened on the wall of the store, instead of looking at the women.
“Where are you?”
“In Subalpine. It’s a little town in the Cascades.”
“Wh-when are you coming home?”
“I don’t know. The roads are blocked. I don’t know how long it’ll be.”
“Call Cindy. She’ll get a helicopter up there for you.”
Shit. Cindy was my personal assistant, and she’d probably get a helicopter if I asked her to. She might do it even if I didn’t. This had to be stopped.
“Mom, that would just draw attention to me. I don’t want that.”
“But we need you here.”
“I don’t want Subalpine taken over by reporters and fans and bullshit. It’s not prepared for that.”
“Your fans are the reason you’re such a big star,” she slurred. “You should be grateful to them. You should love each and every one of them.”
Great. She was launching onto that lecture again. “Mom,” I interrupted. “Mom! I do love my fans. Every one of them. But I don’t want people coming up here and intruding on the locals.”
She snorted. “If it’s like the mountain towns I’ve seen, they could use the business.”
“Just don’t call Cindy. I’ll do it. I’ll make arrangements; don’t worry; it might be a few days, though, before I can make it home.”
“No. No, we need you here now.”
“You’ll have to make do without me.” I couldn’t see what was so pressing that I had to go home immediately. It’s not like I had a filming schedule or anything. I was between projects. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
After I finished with my mom, I called Cindy and explained what was going on. She said she’d send a driver in an SUV to get me as soon as the roads were passable, and that was fine by me. It ought to give me a couple more days with Nova to work things out.
Chapter 29
Always
Nova:
The helicopter showed up at three o’clock in the afternoon. Gage and I were still at Joe’s store, where we’d stayed to chat with Misty and Marcia and eat a lunch of sandwiches and hot soup. The heavy thucka-thucka-thucka of the chopper’s blades came to us from far away, clear in the winter air. Gage’s head came up.
He scowled ferociously at the front windows of the store. “They didn’t.”
“Gage?”
“I told them not to send a goddamn helicopter. And they did it anyway.”
“Why didn’t you want a helicopter?” I said, exchanging bewildered glances with the other women.
“Because it’s fucking disruptive, that’s why. ‘Scuse my language, Marcia. It makes a ton of noise and gets all kinds of attention I don’t want. You don’t want.” He shoved his fingers through his curly hair. “Fuck. My mom must have called Cindy after I talked to her.”
“It’ll be fine,” Marcia said. “We don’t mind. Do we, girls?”
“No!” Misty said in her perky, I’m-talking-to-a-star voice. “Not at all.”
I minded. A helicopter would take him away from me even faster than a car. The roaring of its blades got louder every second, and it now sounded as if they were almost on top of us. My heart hurt.
I know it was childish, but I was angry. At him. Angry because he was leaving, because he wasn’t taking me with him, because he wouldn’t tell me what was bothering him. Because he didn’t trust me or believe in me, or maybe because he wanted to get rid of me. I’m sure I could come up with at least a dozen more reasons why I was furious with him.
I sneaked a glance at him. He was shaking his head, still glowering, and drumming his fingers on the table that formed the General Store’s “cafe.” The latte Marcia had made for him sat almost untasted in front of him.
He was probably used to much better ones down in Cali. Our little town wasn’t good enough for him. I gritted my teeth as my blood pressure and heart rate both rose.
Who did he think he was? I’d rescued him. He’d be dead if it wasn’t for me. He wasn’t too good for me, or Subalpine either. He needed to get over himself.
The roar of the chopper became an ear-torturing scream and the whole parking lot became nothing but whirling snow. At the center of the whirlwind, the chopper gently descended to the pavement. It was a big one, bright white with a blue stripe along its side. Not that I knew anything about choppers—it just looked a lot bigger than ones I used to see flying over Portland.
“Are you sure it’s safe for you to fly in this weather?” I said softly.
“There isn’t a single cloud in the sky,” Gage said. “I’m sure it’s safe. Doesn’t mean I want to do it, though.”
“Do you have to do what they say?” Misty said, wide-eyed.
“He grimaced. “I do have to leave. I’ve got a lot of work I have to get back to. I just didn’t want to do it this way. But now the damage is done and I might as well take advantage of the opportunity to get back to L.A. by tonight.”
I bent my head. My heart rate had gone from speeding in anger to almost stopping cold. This chopper thing was an opportunity to him. Maybe I’d been an opportunity too.
The blades of the chopper slowed gradually until they were barely moving and the snow had mostly settled. A middle-aged woman dressed in skinny jeans tucked into knee-high caramel leather boots and a chic white ski jacket climbed out of the cabin and ran through the remaining wind to the store, the pom-pom on her white hat bobbing with her motion. Through the brief opening and closing of the door, I caught a flash of a remarkably luxurious interior.
Gage tugged on the collar of the flannel shirt Marcia had given him and stood. She’d also given him a pair of new jeans and some boots, and he looked like a regular lumberjack. An extremely hot lumberjack.
The door banged open and the middle-aged woman came inside. She stared around the store for a moment, looking lost until her gaze settled on Gage.
“Gage!” she called. “Thank God.”
He lifted his hand. “Cindy.”
So not his mom, then.
Cindy walked toward him, her boots clacking on the linoleum floor. She had perfectly applied make-up and glossy lips, carefully highlighted blond hair sticking out from under her hat. In fact, she really didn’t look middle-aged and I’m not sure what it was about her that had given me that initial impression.
“Nova, this is my personal assistant, Cindy,” Gage said. “Cindy, this is Nova Pennyman. I’ve been staying at her place.”
Cindy gave me a dismissive glance, a once-over that took in my disheveled hair, my old jeans and battered coat. Then she turned a brilliant smile on Gage. “You’re okay! You look great.” She leaned in to press air kisses against each of his cheeks.
“Yeah. Did you know I fell in the McKenzie River? I would have died of hypothermia or drowned if Nova hadn’t pulled me out. She saved my life.”
I flushed as I felt everyone’s gazes turn to me. We hadn’t told Misty and Marcia about that, either, so they were as surprised as Cindy.
“Really,” she said. “I had no idea.”
“I know,” Gage said with a chiding smile. “That’s why I told you. By the time she got me warm enough, the storm was in full force and the phone lines were down. That’s why I wasn’t able to call anyone until this morning.”
Cindy directed a slightly-less glacial look on me. “You pulled him out of a river?” she said, sounding skeptical.
“Yes, I did.”
She glanced at Gage and then back at me. “So how much do you want?”
I gaped at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“How much do you want? I assume you did it for the reward.”
“What the fuck?” The obscenity just slipped out of me, but now it was out and I wasn’t taking it back. It seemed appropriate. “You don’t think anyone would help Gage unless it was for money?”
Cindy flushed beneath her expensive make-up. “Well, I didn’t say that. And I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Nova,” Gage said, catching my hand. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. This woman just insulted you.”
“I did not insult Mr. Dalton,” Cindy said stiffly, lifting her chin. “I merely thought, since we get so many gold-diggers—not that I thought of you that way, but still—there are so many people taking advantage of Mr. Dalton that I naturally assumed —”
Like you’re taking advantage of him?
I glared at her. “Listen, Cindy, I had no idea who Gage was when I pulled him out. He was just a guy who needed help. I don’t want any money, yours or his.”
She took a step backward, holding up her hands in surrender. “Okay. No hard feelings, right? I didn’t mean to offend.”
“You should be apologizing to Gage, not me.”
“Nova —” he said in a warning tone.
She compressed her lips. “You’re right. Gage, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“I know you didn’t,” he said. “It’s fine. Really. Nova, you need to chill out. I understood exactly why Cindy said what she did.”
I dragged my hand away from his. “Fine. I’m chill. I just think you deserve more respect.”
“Cindy, will you give us a minute?” he said.
“Oh, sure. Yeah. Take all the time you want.”
Gage took me by the elbow. Marcia got up from her chair and introduced herself and Misty to Cindy while he chivvied me across the store and into the clothing aisles.
“Look, Nova, I know you’re mad at me,” he said, “but don’t take it out on Cindy. It’s not her fault.”
“That wasn’t about my being mad at you. I don’t think she should talk about you that way.”
He gave me a half-quizzical, half-sad smile. “All right. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that.”
“Fine.” He’d be gone soon, anyway, and my attitude toward Cindy wouldn’t matter. Nothing about him would matter anymore. Not to me.
I should probably say at this point that I’m a crappy liar, even when lying to myself. He would always matter to me, no matter where he went. No matter what he did. Even if I never saw or heard of him again, he would matter to me.
But I couldn’t tell him that because he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want that kind of bond between us, so I had to keep it to myself.
“So you do admit to being mad at me?” he said, his smile broadening.
I half-shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. I mean, you won’t confide in me and I feel like you don’t trust me.”
His frown reappeared. He looked so damn serious when he did that, like the fate of the world lay in his hands. “I do trust you. Implicitly. This isn’t about trust; it’s about protecting you. I thought I made that clear.”
“Yeah, you did.” I patted his arm, a bit awkwardly. How had things gone from the transcendent passion of the last couple days to this chilly distance? “It’s okay, Gage. It’s not important, anyway, since you’re going home.”
He gave me another searching look. “If you say so.”
“I want you to have a good flight back. I want you to be happy,” I said, my throat thick and tight.
“Give me your number,” he said. “I’ll call you when I get in.”
He wanted my number. That was a good sign, right? I dug around in my purse for a pen and scrap of paper, scribbled my number, handed the paper to him.
Gage tucked the paper in the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. “Thank you. I’m sorry I have to leave like this. Really, I am, Nova. I wish I could stay here with you, but I have too many people relying on me. I have to get back.”
“Okay. I understand.”
“Will you come out to the chopper with me to say good-bye?” He grabbed my hand again, tightly enough so I’d have a tough time getting out of his grasp unless he decided to let me go.
I swallowed. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”
God, this was happening too fast. Way too fast. I didn’t want him to go at all. And from the sorrow in his blue eyes, he didn’t want to either. My stomach suddenly rebelled, nausea churning and trying to force my stomach contents up into my esophagus. I took a deep breath through my nose, forcing the nausea back down.
This was all so confusing.
A clack-clack on the echoing floor announced Cindy’s approach. She stopped a couple yards away. “Is everything good?”
“Yeah.” Gage sounded husky. “We’re good.”
“Ready to go? Where’s your stuff?”
Had she missed the part where I fished him out of the river?
“I don’t have any stuff,” Gage said. “It’s in the rental car, somewhere up the road.”
“Do you need it?”
“No, I’m good. You can send someone to get it when the road is cleared.”
“So are we ready to get on board, then?” She flicked another chilly glance at me.
No. No, we’re not ready.
“Yeah.” Gage didn’t let go of my hand as he led me toward the door.
Cindy craned her neck around his big frame to frown at me. “Is she coming too?”
“No,” Gage said. “We’re just saying good-bye.”
Cindy’s eyes clouded, as if with puzzlement. She couldn’t seem to decide what to make of me. I almost laughed. I was probably so far out of her realm of experience I might as well have come from another planet.
Then we were outside and the wind from the chopper blades was blowing our hair in a hundred different directions. Cindy ran right for the aircraft. Gage and I trudged toward it, our hands still clasped tightly. I glanced over my shoulder to see Misty and Marcia on the porch of the store, watching.
Just before we ducked under the blades, Gage spun me toward him and grabbed me in an all-consuming hug. His arms clasped me to him, nearly lifting me off my feet. His head bent down to mine and he nuzzled my ear and kissed me on the cheek.
“I’ll never forget you, Nova Pennyman,” he said. “Never. You’ll always be with me.”
“Same here.” My eyes stung. I blinked rapidly.
“Hey,” he murmured against my ear. “It’s going to be all right.”
“Sure.” My voice sounded choked. I reached into the breast pocket of my parka and pulled out one of the drawings I’d made of him. I wasn’t sure why I’d brought it along until now. “Here. I want you to have this.”
He studied the paper, looking both sad and pleased. His gaze snapped to mine. “Are you sure you want me to have this?”
“I’m sure.”
Gage bent to kiss me again, this time on the lips. “Thank you, baby. I’ll frame it when I get home.”
Now my eyes really were stinging. Tears pooled, getting ready to run down my cheeks and embarrass the hell out of me. “I love you, Gage.”
Oh, shit. The L-word. Much more embarrassing than tears, especially since the confession was unwanted.
Gage froze. For a long moment, he simply held me against his warm, hard body. Then he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“Be safe,” he said.
He released me and ducked under the blades, running hunched over to the craft, my drawing clutched in his hand. The door opened from inside. I watched him climb in and shut the door against me.
He hadn’t said it back.
Chapter 30
Helicopter
Gage:
Inside the chopper, I slid into one of the beige leather bucket seats and got buckled in. I tucked Nova’s drawing into my shirt, where it would be safe. Then I turned my head to look out the window. Nova was still there, just standing and watching, long dark hair flying in the icy wind of the chopper
blades. She looked so alone, even though Misty and Marcia were just behind her on the porch.
I love you, Gage.
Did I love her back? I couldn’t figure out what it was I felt. Anger, joy, terror, grief. All of that, and maybe more. She loved me. No-one had ever said that to me before. But I wasn’t worthy of her love, and loving me would endanger her.
Even worse, if I allowed myself to love her in return, he would consider her a target.
The feelings Nova inspired in me were everything I’d said I’d never do or feel, and didn’t want. For years, I’d lived by the notion that I was immune to love. I’d been so wrong that I wanted to go back in time and smack myself in the head.
It had been easier to tell myself I didn’t want love, wasn’t interested in a committed relationship, than to admit the truth. That I did want it, yearned for it, and could never have it.
Pressure from beneath me let me know we were lifting off. The ground began to fall away. Nova turned her back on me and walked up the steps to the General Store.
It killed me to see her do that. I shouldn’t feel this way about her. We hadn’t known each other long enough. For all I knew, she had all kinds of obnoxious qualities that would make themselves known on a longer acquaintance.
I didn’t believe that, though. I’d found the girl for me and I had to leave her.
“She’s kind of different.” Cindy’s voice had a hint of snark I didn’t like.
“Yeah,” I said, still looking out the window at Nova’s retreating back. “She is.”
“She’s not like your usual girls.”
I looked over my shoulder at her. “My usual girls don’t know how to survive in a snowstorm.” My usual girls didn’t know how to have a meaningful conversation, either.
Cindy regarded me with a speculative light in her eyes. “You want to talk about it?”
“No.” I settled against the seat back.
“It looked like you two had gotten pretty close.”
I shot her a sideways glare. “We’re friends. That’s all.”
She muttered something that sounded like “yeah, right.” I ignored that in favor of closing my eyes and trying to blank my mind. Just go somewhere with no pain, no sorrow, no guilt.