Zipper Fall (43 page)

BOOK: Zipper Fall

4.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

I eyed the ring with as much impartiality as I could muster. It didn’t look bad—it didn’t feel right though. It was too soon and the opportunity arose in too awkward a manner. “It’s beautiful. Too bad, Jack.”

“I want you to wear it.”

I turned toward him and straddled his thighs, draping my arms around his neck. “I will wear it today. Then tonight we’ll put it back in its box and you’ll put it in your safe. You could buy a decent condo for that ring, Jack.”

His eyes got that wistful, faraway look. “I don’t want to pressure you, Wyatt. I know you like keeping your apartment and not always staying with me. You need your space, and I’m okay with that. It doesn’t make us any less of a couple, although… although I wouldn’t be opposed to a more permanent arrangement.”

I nuzzled his neck, my mind reeling with possibilities. The damn ring felt annoying on my finger. I couldn’t imagine using my computer keyboard with it on. I knew I’d lose it sooner or later, probably while climbing or hiking somewhere outside. If it had only been attached to me…. “Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d like some token of our relationship, too, but it has to be two-way.”

His hand stroked my back up and down absently, making me feel warm enough to close my eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

“How about a piercing?”

J
ACK
took the rest of the day off, I collected my laptop, and we shucked our suit jackets so we could better feel the warm breeze. Jack whistled as he took his tie off, smiling.

An hour later, we both had a cubic zirconia earring in our left earlobe, its surgical steel post still making the area feel swollen and sensitive.

“When this heals up, I’m buying you the most awesome diamond earring there is.”

“Let’s go dutch, buy a whole pair.”

He elbowed me in the ribs. “Shaddap. I get to do stuff for you if I want to.”

I snorted. “I wish Risby was here. What would he say if he saw you trying to fuss over me?”

“You mean,
when
he finds out I’ve been constantly fussing over you?”

I stopped on the cool concrete sidewalk, the shadow of the half-leafed tree keeping the eager spring sun off my shoulders.

“There was no body, Wyatt.”

“But it’s Alaska.”

“But it’s Risby. Trust me, Wyatt. I knew him well enough to know that right about now, he could be just about anywhere.”

S
PRING
gave way to summer and the summer heat receded, allowing the fall to move in and paint maple leaves with its brush of frost. Jack and I wore our diamond-and-platinum earrings unless we were out climbing—then they kept Celia’s ring company in Jack’s safe.

We were done with what was probably the last outdoor climb of the season. Chill wind chased us into an eclectic bookstore with a small café. We stood in line, eager to try one of their spicy autumn blends, when my eyes fell onto a familiar outline of a mountain. The drawing of Mt. Denali decorated the dust jacket of a slim volume of poetry. The author’s name was Theresa Elias, and her sonnets described many an interesting piece of rock in Alaska. The book’s pages emanated the solitude of eternal winter nights and the pain of great love lost. I could just hear the howling, ice-cold winds and feel the frozen rock under my fingertips, lit by naught but the eerie Northern lights.

Demon of Santa Theresa.

Mount St. Elias.

Could it be?

Jack and I bought the volume and settled on a beat-up coffeehouse sofa. I sipped my coffee, nestled in the crook of his arm while he read the verse in a hushed whisper, right by my ear.

The cadence… the word choice… the mood.

After having Jack read all of Risby’s poetry to me, it felt awfully familiar. I could no longer contain myself and turned to face him. “Jack. Jack, do you think…?”

He let his mouth turn into a slow, knowing smile. He had a secret and felt obliged to keep it away from the world. “Hush. Here’s a good one about Sedna, the Goddess of the Underworld….”

I closed my eyes and sighed, content to be lulled by the smooth cadence of Jack’s voice.

S
TEEL
C
ITY
S
TORIES

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

About the Author

Just about everything
K
ATE
P
AVELLE
writes is colored by her life experiences, whether the book in your hand is romance, mystery, or adventure. Kate grew up under a totalitarian regime behind the Iron Curtain. In her life, she has been a hungry refugee and a hopeful immigrant, a crime victim and a force of lawful vengeance, a humble employee and a business owner, an unemployed free-lancer and a corporate executive, a scientist and an artist, a storyteller volunteering for her local storytelling guild, a martial artist, and a triathlete. Kate’s frequent travels imbue her stories with local color from places both exotic and mundane.

Kate Pavelle is encouraged in her writing by her husband, children, and pets, and tries not to kill her extensive garden in her free time. Out of the five and a half languages she speaks, English is her favorite comfort zone.

Contact Kate at www.katepavelle.com for more reading pleasure, or follow her on Twitter at KatePavelle.

Also from
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS