Page 5 of Falling

“Are we there yet?” I ask in my drollest voice. He smiles like I knew he would. The one thing about Peter and I is we squabble often, but we move on quickly.

“We’ll be there in just under an hour.”

I sigh dramatically. Rummaging through my bag, I pull out a book to help me pass the time. I bought it specifically for this trip.

“Murder mystery?” he asks.

“It’s about a group of campers that are slaughtered on a cross-country hike. More of a thriller.”

“Lovely.”

“Nothing like a good book to relax me.” I flip open my book. Peter’s gaze bores into the side of my head. I ignore it and find the chapter I earmarked. Yes, I’m a monster, but I picked the book up at a second-hand store. A little corner bending is the least of its problems. I bought several similar books, planning on leaving them behind as I go.

“Mmmm,” he hums, looking back at the road.

“What?” I look up from my book. “No sexual innuendo about relaxing?”

“You know I only do that when Rand is around. Drives him crazy.” He smiles. “Seems incredibly inappropriate while we’re alone, doesn’t it?”

“Mmmm.” Now it’s my turn to hum.

I’ve begun to enjoy seeing how he can turn every comment into something salacious. If any other man said the things Peter has to me, I’d break his face. I just laugh when he does it. I’m sure that is something my therapist should know about. Then again, we all have our secrets.

We drive in silence through the dark until we pull up outside of a small cottage. Peter shuts off the engine, and we climb out. The air is colder here. I feel a shiver work its way through my body as I join him at the front of the SUV. Before I can go hunt for a warmer coat, Peter’s arm is draped around my shoulders. I press closer to his warm body.

“What do you think?” he asks. I have so many thoughts swirling in my head. Thoughts of confusion about moving on from what I’ve ever known. Worry about us making a success of our new business. Fear of not being important to my only brother anymore now that he has his own family.

“Looks promising,” is what I say instead. “Shall we check it out?” He motions me forward. He punches in a code on the keypad near the door, and the lock disengages. Inside is an inviting living area with a large fireplace at one end.

“There are two bedrooms; one upstairs, the other down the hall. You can choose which one you want.” I walk upstairs to see the first bedroom. It’s got large windows that, even though it’s currently dark, promise an incredible view. When I return to the living area, Peter has started a fire.

“I’ll take the one upstairs.” My bags are sitting by the door. How long was I up there?

“I opened a bottle of wine. Help yourself.”

Damn. Peter’s on his game. I pour myself a glass, toe off my shoes, and sit on the end of the couch. He pokes at the fire for a few more minutes before joining me. Pulling his shoes off, he sets his feet on the coffee table. I tuck my feet underneath me.

“Can I ask you something?” Peter asks after a few minutes.

“Can I stop you?”

“Do you worry we’ve taken on too much too soon?” he asks, ignoring my comment. It’s like he’s looked directly into my mind. “I mean, I think we made a good choice, I just…I don’t know. I worry that we won’t be able to make this work.”

He waits for me to say something. But what do I say? Growing up, I learned you never admit your fears. It makes you weak.

“Doesn’t matter. There’s nowhere else to go but forward at this point,” I say, not nearly as confident as I sound.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He stares at the fire. I wish he’d tell me what else is swirling in that beautiful mind of his. I need him to tell me everything will be alright. I need him to make me forget my fears. “Well, if we’re going to get in the Yosemite Valley hike tomorrow, I should probably get some rest.”

“Good idea. I would hate for you to slow me down, old man.”

I smirk; he smiles.

“I’ll see you bright and early.” I watch as Peter sets his glass in the sink, closes the screen on the fireplace, and picks up his bag. “Good night, Geneva.” With one last look, he walks down the hallway.

“Good night, Peter,” I say softly. “Sweet dreams.”

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