Page 78 of Last Summer

Ella sits up, anxious. Nathan’s duffel and ski bags are still in the room, but he’s not. He probably went to fetch coffee. She flops back on the pillow and looks at her phone to check the time. Numerous notifications display from Damien.

Damien.

Guilt sours in her stomach. She can’t bring herself to read his texts, not when she’s still in Nathan’s bed with his scent all over her.

She’ll deal later, she reasons, looking at the time. They have several hours before they have to leave for the airport. She needs those hours to skim through last night’s recording and organize her thoughts. Tossing aside the sheets, Ella quickly dresses, leaving Nathan’s room and, god willing, her guilt behind.

Nathan knocks on her door around noon.

“May I come in?” he asks when she opens the door. He sounds exhausted, and he looks just as bone-weary, a contrast to Ella, who’s been in work mode. She rubs the back of her neck, tense from leaning over her keyboard.

“Sure.” She opens the door wider and he glides past, carrying with him the scents of Anchorage—oil, fish, and ice. His nose is red and cheeks rosy. He’s been out in the cold for some time.

“Everything okay?” she asks, her mind on last night. Does he regret what happened? Surprisingly, she feels more relaxed than she has in months. Probably because she’s been productively working and not dwelling on the possible consequences. Her phone, loaded with Damien’s unread texts, is burning a hole in her back pocket.

“Yep...um. No. Not really.”

He glances down at his jacket as though surprised it’s still on. He shrugs it off and tosses it on the bed.

“Where’d you go this morning?” She was disappointed he wasn’t there when she woke up. He promised they’d talk in the morning.

“I went for a walk. I’ve been on the phone since it woke me. Steph’s attorney called, then I called mine.” He plants his hands on his waist and exhales. “I’m going to sign the divorce papers.”

Ella blinks in surprise. “You sure that’s what you want to do?” Nathan has been separated for over a year. She wonders if last night has anything to do with his decision.

He shrugs. “Our marriage was over long before Carson died. And no”—he gives her a look—“this has nothing to do with what happened between us. Whatishappening. I made my decision about Steph months ago.”

“But I thought the article—”

“It was never about getting her back.” He closes the distance between them. “It’s about getting her forgiveness.”

“Oh.” She frowns. She’d been so sure of his motivations and he’d never corrected her. She looks at her black socks, her feet almost toe-to-toe with Nathan’s boots. The way she sees it, Nathan doesn’t need Stephanie’s forgiveness. He needs to forgive himself. But self-forgiveness can’t be forced. She knows that firsthand. Grace died nearly twenty years ago and Ella still feels guilty about the way it happened.

Nathan cradles her head, tilting up her face. His eyes search hers. “What about us? Are we good?”

“Yes. We’re good.” They share a smile.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke. I wanted to spend the morning making love to you.”

“And talking,” she reminds him.

He rests his forehead on hers. “Yes, talking. I want to do that, too. Tonight, promise. Meanwhile...” He dives in for a quick, hard kiss, pulling away on a moan. “We have a plane to catch. Only flight out of here today. As much as I want to drag you back into bed, we can’t miss it.” He looks at the clock. “Meet you in the lobby in twenty?”

She agrees. Grabbing his jacket, he steals another kiss and leaves her to pack.

CHAPTER 23

Surrounded by the glacial peaks of the Chugach Mountains, Cordova is a quaint coastal town in Southeast Alaska. Ella’s weather app tells her the temp’s in the low forties, but the air nips and the wind bites. Cold and damp, it feels like it’s in the thirties. Ella bundles her jacket around her as they step outside to meet their ride.

Scott Burgess, the owner and operator of Backcountry Descents, is there to meet them. A wiry man with a sun-bronzed face and chapped hands, he shakes Nathan’s hand vigorously, clearly delighted to havetheNathan Donovan joining him. He’s even more enthusiastic when Nathan introduces Ella, explaining that she’s writing a feature on him forLuxe Avenue. Scott isn’t the least bit shy asking for a mention.

“You can find whatever you need to know about our operation on our website. But please”—he presses his palms flat together—“ask me anything.”

“Will do,” Ella says, all but lunging into her seat when Scott slides open the courtesy van’s door, desperate to get out of the cold. Nathan sits in the front passenger seat.

Scott loads their gear and luggage into the back and settles in the driver’s seat, popping his arm over the seatback so that he can face both her and Nathan.

“So, friends, we have a situation. This season’s been epic. The lodge is at capacity. I don’t have an extra room. The one we booked for you”—he nods at Nathan—“can sleep four. You got a queen and a pullout sofa. I’ve secured a room at the B&B in case”—he looks at Ella—“you prefer separate rooms. I mention this now because we drive through town and can drop off your stuff before we make our way to the lodge.”

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