Page 104 of This Blood that Bonds Us

The crisp sounds of the fireside in Aaron’s and my cabin soothed the vibrant chatter in my head. It reminded me of home, and the closer I sat to the heat of it, the more I remembered the smell of the pine. With a blanket wrapped around my shouldersand a book balanced on my knees, I flipped another page. The book had a cracked binding and tarnished pages. I deliberately turned each page with care. Applying the right pressure was easier, and in Alaska, my senses felt healed. I could listen to music again.

“Are you reading that again?” Aaron let in the cold wind as he stepped through the front door.

“Presley got me hooked after making me watch the movie.” I marked my place and shut my copy ofRomeo and Juliet. Kilian had one of the early editions of the plays.

“Ah, classic. I’ve seen it a couple times. And by that, I mean Presley has forced me to watch it many, many times. You never read it in high school?”

“I did, but I thought it was absurd at the time.”

“And now?”

“Now I understand it more, I think. I can appreciate it at least. Two people loving someone so much that . . . they’d want to die together.”

The first time I read it, I believed it all to be juvenile. It was foolish to let love take over oneself. Even more so to die for nothing, but I’d had it wrong. To be a lover meant believing in the impossible and loving without limits or fear and uncertainty. It was wild, irrational, and untamable.

“What part are you at?”

“The part where Juliet stabs herself in the heart.”

“And not a single tear.” Aaron sat beside me with his jacket on. The light glaze of snow melted next to the fire.

“I’ve read it over a few times.”

Something about reading about love was comforting. It reminded me no one was promised another day. My plight wasn’t unique. It was a fear regular humans lived through every day. I’d only never felt it because I’d never loved something worth losing.

“Come on.” He jumped to his feet. “Enough depressing stuff.”

He led me to the door and handed me my coat.

“Aaron, it’s so cold.”

“Humor me a second.”

Everything about him was glowing as I followed him outside into the night. We went along the back side of the cabin where a ladder led to the roof.

“After you.” He winked.

I ascended the ladder, and a pallet of blankets sat in a carved-out portion of the snow. Surrounding it were lit candles casting shadow onto the pillows.

“I didn’t even hear you up here.” I had to intentionally close my jaw.

“You were too engrossed in this.” Aaron waved it around as he made his way next to me. “I missed our rooftop nights at OBA and wanted to make a new memory.”

We settled into the blankets. They were set on a tarp to prevent the melted water from seeping through.

“You . . . keep surprising me.” I grabbed at the edges of his coat. “There’s still so much to learn about you. I feel like I’m just scratching the surface.”

“What better time for me to tell you all those things you want to know about me. Or . . . you could read to me. Or I could read to you.”

“I vote all of the above. The night is so long.”

He pulled me close, and I wrapped my arms around his torso as we fell back onto the blanket. The roof was hard and frozen, but I was cuddled into the softness of his chest. I missed the lights of the football stadium, the sounds of laughter, and that feeling of weightlessness I used to have.

We must have been reminiscing about the same memory because he said, “I saved it, you know. The money I set aside for you and me. I keep it in the most secure place ever. My shoe.”

“Oh yeah? And what will we do with it?”

“Anything . . . everything.”