Last Summer: A Novel Page 12

  Aunt Kathy tucked a finger under Ella’s chin and lifted her face. “You can tell me. But you must be honest. Honesty is the best policy.”

  Ella wasn’t so sure about that. She’d overheard her parents’ last conversation. It was what her mother had said that devastated her father, so much that he not only got them killed but almost killed Ella and her brother.

  So yes, Nathan’s right. Ella does blame her mom.

  Burning pressure forms behind Ella’s eyes. She blinks rapidly. “I haven’t talked about them in a long time.” From what she can recall, she hasn’t spoken about them since she told Damien during their first year of marriage. The fact she’d told Nathan can mean only one thing. They’d grown very close last summer.

  “I know. You mentioned that to me, too. For what it’s worth,” he adds, offering her a handful of trail mix, “you aren’t to blame.”

  Ella frowns. “I don’t blame myself. My mom was clearly at fault.”

  “I’m not talking about your parents.”

  “What then?”

  His gaze dips to her midriff and back up to her face. Clarity swoops in like the hawk riding the air currents above them. Yes, she does blame herself for the accident she had last November. Nathan doesn’t have the right to convince her otherwise. He doesn’t know everything.

  Neither does she.

  Ella grimaces. Time to redirect the conversation. She doesn’t want to talk about her problems anymore. She wants to talk about him. Or them. Yes, that’s a good starting point.

  She brushes nut dust from her hands and motions to the recorder. “Mind if we get started?”

  “Sure.”

  “On the record,” she begins. “What did we do last summer? My editor told me you took me backpacking.”

  Nathan opens his mouth, then promptly shuts it.

  “I did,” he acknowledges when Ella circles her hand, eager to get the interview rolling. “We met up June seventh. It was eight months after Carson’s death and my head was still in a bad place. I’d been hiking a section of the PCT, the Pacific Crest Trail. You can access it near here. I guess you could say I had an epiphany of sorts. I needed to tell someone my side of the story. I called Luxe Avenue, offered the exclusive, and they sent you. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you don’t believe me.” He smiles, amused.

  “I believe you. I mean, my editor did say we went backpacking. I like hiking. Day hikes, like what we’re doing.” She thumbs back at the trail. “I can’t picture myself on a multiday excursion.”

  “You were desperate for the story.” He tipped back the water canister and took a swig, smiling around the rim.

  “We hiked for what, five days?”

  “Something like that. Next question?”

  Ella wants to ask what they did the other nine days. But when he glances at his watch she remembers she’s pressed for time.

  “All right. Back to your parents.”

  For the next few hours they talk, delving further into his relationship with his father. When he asks, she shares stories about her childhood, surprised she feels so comfortable with him. She talks about growing up with Andrew and her time spent with Grace. She doesn’t know if she’s repeating what she told him last summer, but Nathan doesn’t say anything. He listens intently. He empathizes. Ella finds the more that she talks, the more she wants to share.

  At some point, Nathan unwraps sandwiches, roast beef and mustard on rye, and they eat lunch. Around two o’clock, he looks at the sky and suggests they head back.

  He shoves off the rock and starts packing up their trash. Sensing movement, Fred and Bing yawn and stretch, downward dog–style. Tails swishing, they approach Nathan. He scratches their muzzles and hooks on their dog packs. Recharged and ready to hit the trail, the dogs pace.

  Pushing off the granite surface, Ella stands and groans. Her muscles follow suit, complaining.

  Her thighs burn. Lunging forward, she warms up her muscles for the return hike.

  Nathan comments on her stretching. “How are the legs?”

  “Stiff. I think I was a little overconfident when I agreed to this.”

  “You were hungry for the story,” he teases.

  “Always.”

  Arms raised, she leans right, stretching her side. Scarred ligaments in her lower abs spasm. She hisses through the discomfort.

  Nathan looks at her sharply. “You’re hurt.”

  “Just sore. Do you have aspirin in that treasure bag?” She nods at the daypack. He continues to stare at her, his gaze more inward than focused on her.

  “Nathan?”

  He blinks, rubs his eyes, and drags a hand down his face. “Aspirin. Yeah, I do.” He drops the pack on the ground and rummages through the pockets.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” Nathan roughly unzips another pocket and pulls out the medical kit, his motions abrupt. He seems angry, and Ella thinks he probably regrets showing her his spot. The location is secluded, personal to him. He spends a great deal of time reflecting here. Next time he visits, he’ll think of her and her complaints about her aches and pains.

  Popping the aspirin cap, he drops two tablets in her hand.

  “You seem upset. Did I do something?” she asks.

  He doesn’t answer, only puts away the medical kit.

  “The hike wasn’t my idea.” She downs the aspirin with water.

  “Drink more,” he orders. “You need to stay hydrated.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” She salutes him with the water bottle and drinks until Nathan seems satisfied. Still kneeling, he looks at the ridge across the valley. He doesn’t move, even when Ella finishes the water and holds out the container for him to put it away.

  “Knock, knock.” She mock knocks the air in his line of vision. “Anyone home?”

  He hangs his head and swears, scratches at the scruff on his jaw. He then zips and shoulders the pack, standing. He looks down at her with remorse. “I owe you an apology.”

  She frowns. “For what?”

  “I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have brought you out here, not this far. You aren’t acclimated.” He yanks on his knit cap and pulls it over the top of his ears. “I’m a professional. I expected too much of you. I shouldn’t have pushed you to go this far.”

  If he could kick himself in the rear, Ella is sure he would. He looks miserable.

  “For the record, you didn’t push me. I could have said no. You didn’t force me to come out here.”

  “I didn’t give you much of an option.”

  “True. But a good part of my job is getting to watch the people I interview in action. There isn’t much to watch when we’re sitting across from each other at a table. You made our day more interesting. I’m a little light-headed and sore. No biggie. I can manage.”

  “Still, it just proves . . .” He stops and glances away. He looks at his watch. “We need to head back. It’s getting late.” He starts walking. The dogs scamper ahead, leading the way. Ella doesn’t budge.

  “Hey, Donovan!” she calls after him. “Proves what?”

  He swings around, walking backward. “That my head isn’t in the game.” Turning back, he continues on.

  “Is that why you quit Off the Grid!?” she hollers.

  “Get moving, Skye. The sun doesn’t stay up for anyone. You don’t want to be walking this trail as it gets dark.”

  No, she doesn’t. The unmarked path and white landscape make it too easy to get lost in the diminishing light.

  She jogs after Nathan and the dogs through protesting muscles, falling into step behind them. Soon the aspirin kicks in and she feels looser. They don’t talk much on the way back. Nathan seems to be in a funk so she lets him stew and keeps her attention on the ground. A twisted ankle would ruin their day. She’d be stuck out here, cold and alone, while Nathan ran back to his house to call for help. Or worse, he’d have to carry her. How humiliating.

  Pressing fingers to he
r windburned cheeks, she glances at the sky. Clouds drift slowly overhead. The toe of her boot catches on a root. Stumbling, she bumps into a boulder. Ouch. She rubs her arm.

  “Ella,” Nathan snaps. Suddenly in front of her, he waves a hand in her face. “Pay attention.”

  She blinks, glancing up at him, her movements slow and lethargic.

  He says a few choice words, then pats his pockets until he finds a smashed protein bar. He tears off the wrapper.

  “Eat this. You need fuel.” He waits until she finishes. “Better?”

  A rush of sugar hits her system. “Much, thank you.” She didn’t finish her sandwich earlier. She’d been too distracted asking questions and listening to Nathan.

  “The altitude messes with you. Why didn’t you tell me you felt dizzy?”

  She shakes her head, holding on to the tree for balance. “Not dizzy. Not anymore. Just tired and shaky.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Think you can walk now or do you need to rest more?”

  “No, I’m good. Let’s go.”

  They resume walking. The sun sets earlier at their elevation, and soon the bright orb is hiding behind trees until it disappears, dousing the sky in pinks and lavenders. It’s almost 5:00 p.m. when they make it back to Nathan’s, and by the time the trail opens onto his property, Ella wants nothing more than to enjoy a hot bath and to pee in a toilet. How in the world did she backpack five days straight?

  “All right if I use your bathroom before I leave?” she asks.

  The shadow of a frown touches his forehead. “Don’t go.” He steps close to her so that she has to tilt her head back to look at him. “I mean, you shouldn’t drive just yet. Rest. Have dinner with me.”

  Ella glances at her car and back. Her stomach growls. She’s hungry, and if she stays, they can put in another couple of hours toward the interview.

  “Sure, I’ll stay.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Nathan moves about the kitchen prepping a dinner of steak, potatoes, and asparagus. He changed into worn jeans and a green flannel shirt. A shock of hair, rich like damp wood, drapes his forehead as he bends over the steaks, seasoning the rib eyes. He hums along to the music playing in the background, the Doors’ “Light My Fire,” seemingly lost in his own world and obviously used to living alone. Ella doubts he entertains much company up here.

  Ella studies him from her chair at the table, piecing together the man she spent hours binge-watching the other day compared to the man she went hiking with. This man with her today is more reserved and cautious than the icy rudeness she was met with yesterday. And right now, he seems relaxed, comfortable in his own skin. All three versions are a far cry from his television persona, the man she expected to meet. On-screen he was confident. He attacked each episode’s challenge with precision, guiding his guests with skill and finesse. It was never lost on him that the snap of a rope while rappelling down a cliff face or slip of the foot on loose pebbles on a trail no wider than the width of his boot above a steep ravine could send him and his guest careening to their deaths. As intense as he’d be one moment, he’d crack a joke the next. His brilliant smile would light up the screen.

  Today, though, he’s a shadow of the man he used to be. The Nathan leading them along a trail that followed the mountain ridge seemed to doubt his own abilities. He’d been hard on himself, second-guessing his assumption she’d been ready for the hike.

  Ella powers up her laptop, plugs in the Wi-Fi password Nathan gave her, and furiously types notes from the day’s discussion. She also uploads the voice recordings and backs everything up to the cloud. She’s not going to risk losing or misplacing her notes again.

  Nathan carries a platter of steaks and asparagus to the sliding glass door. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  “I’ll get that,” she says, pushing up from the table and opening the door for him. A rush of crisp air trades places with him when he goes outside. She shivers and rubs her upper arms. Shutting the door behind him, she remains there, watching.

  Nathan sets the platter on a table and lifts the grill cover. Smoke billows, carried off by the wind. He preps the grate, scrubbing off burned bits from the previous time he used the grill. He puts on the steaks and closes the lid, then just stands there in the cold and wind, arms folded tight over his chest. He gazes off toward the woods. What’s he looking at? What’s he thinking about?

  Wind sweeps up from the valley, hitting the house. Windows creak and wood groans, absorbing the impact. Nathan’s shirt billows and hair ruffles.

  Isn’t he cold?

  Ella shivers again despite the fact that the heater is on.

  Masochist.

  The word floats into Ella’s mind, and she’s quickly drawing her own conclusions about him. Nathan seeks out pain. He wants to feel its sharp edges. He wants to live and breathe his losses. But if he continues to wallow in them, he’ll spend the rest of his life holed up here on the mountain. Forgotten.

  Ella needs to write his exclusive before that happens. His fans could lose him. She could lose him.

  Whoa.

  She steps back from the door as though the glass burned.

  Where did that thought come from?

  Thin air. It’s just the altitude, messing with her mind, she reasons.

  She returns to her notes, dictating them since she speaks faster than she can type.

  A short time later, Ella wraps up her thoughts. “It’s my opinion that Nathan—”

  The door slides open with a blast of cold air. Nathan comes inside smelling of smoke, pine, and grilled meat. He shuts the door. Ella turns off the voice recorder.

  “Don’t stop on my account.” Nathan sets down the steaks and covers the platter with tinfoil. He joins her at the table, sitting across from her. He leans forward, weight on his forearms. “What’s your opinion of me?” He nods at the recorder, urging her to continue. A dare.

  She arches a brow and presses the record button. “I think Nathan idealized the life he had with his parents. He attempted to re-create that life with his wife, Stephanie, but he always fell short.”

  Nathan frowns. His chin presses into his neck. “That’s a little harsh.”

  “The truth can be harsh.”

  “Your opinion of me is harsh.”

  “I didn’t draw the same conclusion before?”

  His frown deepens. “No.” He glances away. “I don’t know. You didn’t dictate in front of me. You’d wander off.”

  “Well, maybe I thought the same thing and didn’t tell you. Or maybe I did and that’s why you pulled the exclusive,” Ella says, going on a hunch. “You didn’t like what you heard.”

  He folds his arms over his chest. “That’s not why I pulled it.”

  Ella’s eyes widen. It was him, not her.

  Rebecca said she wasn’t going to let Ella kill the article again, but for the life of her, Ella can’t imagine why she would have killed it in the first place unless she had a good reason.

  Unless Nathan had been the reason. He must have convinced her. Why?

  “Why’d you pull it, Nathan? What happened?”

  His gaze lifts and meets hers. “You’re angry.”

  “No, frustrated. Okay, maybe a little irritated. I thought I’d killed the article, but it was you. Why?” she asks forcefully.

  He nods at the recorder in her hand. “Hold that thing any tighter and you’ll break it.”

  She looks at the recorder and wills her grip to soften. “Sorry.”

  She pushes out a breath and pretends to read her notes. She’s frustrated she can’t remember anything from before and she’s taking it out on Nathan. The fact she’s so physically attracted to him doesn’t help either. It makes her wonder if she felt the same before. Did she act on those feelings? If so, does Damien know? It would explain why he was so adamant about her ditching the interview. But wouldn’t he have been more insistent? Wouldn’t he have told her she had an affair?

  No, Ella reasons. Nothing happened between her and Nathan. She
wouldn’t have done that to Damien.

  She takes a calming breath and sets down the recorder. “I’m sorry,” she repeats.

  “Apology accepted. Please, continue. I want to hear this.”

  “All right.” Ella looks sideways at him, gathering her thoughts, her hands clammy. Nathan waits, watching her, which makes her more nervous. There’s the genuine possibility he’ll kill the article again once he’s heard what she plans to dictate. She wipes her hands on her thighs and speaks into the recorder. She keeps her gaze on the notes in front of her so that she can concentrate.

  “When a person is placed on a pedestal, which I believe Nathan did with his wife and compared her to the two most important people in his life at the time, his parents, Stephanie had no place to go but down. I don’t think she could keep up with Nathan’s expectations of her.”

  “I never expected anything from her.”

  “You wanted your marriage with her to be what your parents had,” she refutes.

  “Sure.”

  “She wasn’t wired like them or you. You started to resent her for not being like your mom.”

  “I loved Steph and my parents. I didn’t idealize them. I admired them.” His tone is defensive.

  “You romanticized them. You did with me this afternoon, anyway. I can’t think of one flaw you told me.”

  “They had plenty of flaws. Mom hated housework and she was horrible at math. Worst tutor on the planet. Dad drank too much, ate like crap, and watched too much TV.”

  “Flaws, yes, but superficial. Stephanie’s from New York, right? She’d never been off Manhattan for any length of time longer than a few weeks until you met her at a dinner party.” Ella’s glad she read up on Stephanie, too. She was a friend of Nathan’s publicist, and Nathan had confessed in one interview that he knew the moment he met Stephanie that she was it for him. They married and then moved to Colorado, where they lived in the Rockies, about an hour from the nearest town.

  “You can’t take a city girl and drop her in the middle of the woods and expect her to thrive on her own. You traveled a lot, and you left her alone in the mountains. She was lonely. She couldn’t hack the solitude you crave. She wanted to move back to New York and you wouldn’t go with her.” Ella had read all that in the New York Post. The article ran around the time his separation from Stephanie went public.