Page 76 of Last Summer

“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. Iamto 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.”

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