Page 59 of Loud Unspoken Memories

I guess I haven’t exactly been an open book of information. “And two brothers.”

“Older? Younger?”

“Lucas is the oldest. I was next. Then Allie. Blake is the baby. He’s the one with the deaf wife and daughter.”

“Dallas?”

“What?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Dallas?”

“Hmm?”

For a moment, based on all the other information I’ve divulged, I think she’s going to ask me about Phoebe. I’ve told her a little about DJ. But she doesn’t even know Phoebe’s name. Do Iwantto tell her? It’s only natural for her to be curious about my wife. And though I could swear it hangs in the air between us, the question never comes.

She holds up a hand. “I can’t feel my fingers. Can we go home?”

Home. She called my cabin home.

I know she didn’t mean it like it came out, but for a fraction of a second, I want it to be true. But only a fraction of a second, because like every other thought I have about Martina Alexandra Carver, it gets overshadowed by memories that creep in and devour any pleasant feelings.

Getting to my feet first, I offer her my hand to help her up. Damn. She’s right, she is cold. Her fingers are pale. “Where are your gloves?”

She unzips a pocket and gets them out. “I couldn’t climb the ladder with them on.”

I look at my own super-durable work gloves with grip and feel horrible all over again. She climbed the tower unassisted, nearly got frostbite in the process, and she fucking saved me. All through what must have been crippling fear.

“Good thinking. Let’s go. I’ll make you a gallon of hot chocolate when we get back.”

She smirks. “After what we just did, I think I’m going to need something a little stronger than hot chocolate.”

I laugh and turn to Bex, patting my thigh. “Come on, boy. Let’s go home.”

~ ~ ~

Luckily, the cabin isn’t freezing when we return. But the fire has burned down to almost nothing. Still, the place is small enough that even embers radiate warmth.

Marti looks like a popsicle. I move a chair in front of the fire, pile more wood in, and wrap her in blankets. Then I put a pot of water on.

I check my phone. Three bars. Good enough. I find where she left hers and hand it to her. “Do you want me to leave when you make calls? I can step outside.”

“I think we’ve both been outside enough for today. It’s fine. I need to check in with Asher and Anita.”

“While you do that, I’ll try Luther again and see if I can get a weather update.”

“Do you think”—her eyes meet the floor—“they’ll be able to get someone up here soon?”

“That’s the hope,” I say, unsure if I really mean it.

By the look on her face, it may not be the answer she wanted. And that both excites and scares me.

She calls her brother first. I try not to eavesdrop, but in this small space, it’s hard not to listen. She has to calm him down and assure him she’s okay. I completely understand. If Allie ever went off the grid like Marti did, I’d go ballistic along with the rest of my family.

It sounds like she also talks to her niece, but not for long. She tells her she has to call Anita and Charlie. Then, I watch her closely as she stares at her phone, hesitating before she dials. Because I’m here listening? Or because she doesn’t know what she’s going to say?

---