Page 111 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

He lights a fire on the range, frying bacon that sizzles and pops while I turn the crank of an eggbeater. I smile to myself as I remember what Cescily said during her barrage of words in this very kitchen yesterday.

“What are you thinking about?” Alec asks joyfully, breaking me out of my reverie.

“Try not to set anything on fire this time,” I tell him smugly, suppressing my smile.

“That happened once. And only because Cescily distracted me by blowing flour in my face, making me sneeze uncontrollably for ten minutes,” Alec defends with a sparkle in his eye.

“Yes, blame your sister, who was a girl compared to your, what—two-hundred?”

He washes a handful of strawberries and flicks water at me in response. I shy away from the droplets, and he gives me a boyish grin.

Alec studies me seriously for a moment. “You remember that?”

“No. Cescily told me yesterday.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Yes, Cescily certainly does like to tell you things. Did she tell you anything else?” Alec asks, sounding nervous.

I glance at the dark hair of his beard, then back to his narrowed eyes with amusement. “A few things,” I tell him vaguely with a smirk.

We finish making breakfast together silently. We work together with ease, instinctively knowing how to move around each other. Knowing when we need to hand something to the other. Alec isso familiar. With each fluid movement, every small touch, my soul is settled. The air is light. Our silence is comfortable.

We eat standing in the calm kitchen, continuing our silence. Alec keeps giving me soft, unreadable looks.

“What?” I ask him, shoveling the last bite of eggs into my mouth unattractively.

Alec’s lips quirk up as he watches me. “I have missed this.”

I pause my chewing as I absorb his words. So simple—yet after he says them, my reality begins to feel strange. My stomach is churning, my head pounds worse than it has in weeks, the gravity of everything that has happened crashing over me and sucking me back into my loathing.

Stomping to the sink, I drop my dishes in. My plate cracks and silverware clatters against the copper bin. I avoid Alec’s shocked face as I walk past, barely stifling my tears on my way to the door.

Alec moves so quickly, I don’t register him until he swings in front of me to block the door, his hands reaching above his head to grip the frame. The cords of his muscled arms pop when he flexes his fingers tighter, the position accentuating the trim cuts of his waist.

“Where are you going?” he demands with an edge.

“I’m finished.”

“Well, I am not.”

I try to move past him to leave, but his dominating presence eats all the space, keeping me here.

“I thought we were making progress. What happened?” He drops his arms and crosses them over his chest.

Unwilling to answer, I turn away.

“Look at me!” Alec yells. When I don’t oblige, he grabs my chin and tilts my head up. “Look at me, Ellya. What happened? Areyou still struggling with your reality?” he asks me with care and concern. It makes the roiling in my stomach increase.

Giving him a hateful sneer, I answer, “I know exactly what’s in front of me.”

“If that were true, you would accept me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Alec moves from my chin to tenderly cup my cheek. The touch of his gentle, warm hand reminds me of how I allowed another hand to touch me; I’m overcome with the mountain of guilt I’ve been burying for weeks.

And it’s as if Alec can taste my guilt. “Do you feel him when I touch you?” His hand moves to the back of my neck, stroking it gently, lovingly, contrasting the hurt in his voice.