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The sound of the waterfall roaring in my ears reminds me again of those terrifying last few moments, and fear rises. I move behind James, getting as far from the falls as I can.
“I think you’re in shock,” James says, and there’s a mixture of pain and slight amusement in his tone. “You’re funny when you’re in shock.” He’s gotten himself to standing, but there’s a distinct hunch in his shoulders.
“Well, it’s not every day I’m discussing my neurotic best friend one moment, traversing into the precipice of death the next, and then bouncing back before I can blink. But seriously, how are you?” I look at the area where he landed and wince at the sight of a particularly pointed-looking rock.
“I’m fine. Just a bit banged up,” he says, but he’s limping. If nothing’s broken, it’s seriously bruised. He’s underplaying his injuries.
“You did give me a mammoth-level pullback there.”
“I didn’t want to undershoot how much force I needed,” he replies.
I glance over to the roaring waterfall, and my entire body shrinks back. “Yes, that would’ve been an unfortunate miscalculation.” I look at him, and the pounding realization that his pain is the direct result of a cascade of my actions today just about knocks me over. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“It isn’t your fault at all,” he says.
“That was so stupid of me.”
“To slip? Slipping is human. It’s why astute New Yorkers have camping trips in 7-Eleven parking lots, but—”
“I could’ve gotten myself killed. And worse, you could have broken something.”
“You hear yourself, right? By definition, that’s not worse.”
“And now you’re going to be injured all Christmas.”
“The nieces will now have an upper hand when they tackle me to wrestle for a few days. I’m fine, Chloe.”
“Are you bleeding?” I say, reaching around now and looking and feeling at his back. Without my headlamp it’s all just a dark sheet; I wouldn’t be able to see if half his back was missing. Gently I try to feel at his shoulders. His sides.
He gives a little laugh as he snatches up my hand and turns round to face me. There’s pain in his voice, but a little lightness too. “Chloe,” he says firmly. “I’m not bleeding. And if I am, believe me, it’s not there.”
He squeezes my hands with a teasing grin. They’re small in his large gloved ones, like he’s holding a snow globe. His headlamp dangles around his neck, facing downward in the same way half the hikers tonight have used theirs, leaving an indirect glow between us.
His smile turns soft. As soft as the glow in his green eyes.
“The truth is,” he says slowly, meaningfully, “maybe I pulled you back with such unproportionate intensity not just because it was important to keep you safe, but also . . . I guess because I realized it was very important to me that you didn’t go away.”
“Away from safety and into the arms of utter death and destruction?” I tease lightly, my breath frosting and curling into the air between us.
“Away from me and into the arms of . . . well, anyone. Anything.”
My body feels like it’s about to give way right here and now from all the ups and downs of the evening. All the emotions carrying me from one extreme of the universe to the other.
But his hands, holding mine firmly, keep me steady. Steady enough to be brave and keep looking at the shadow of James’s strong, sturdy face. I’ve known this man for no more than a collection of hours and yet it feels like so much more.
“What I’m trying to say is . . . you’ve surprised me, Chloe. You’ve surprised my life. And I just hope, if you feel the same way, we can spend more time together—to see where this takes us.”
The answer, of course, is yes.
“I’d like that. Very much. And is this perhaps . . . a moment where you ask . . . if you can kiss me?”
He laughs, and there’s a twinkle in his eye. “Are you asking me to ask you for a kiss?”
“I guess I am.”
“Then who am I to refuse?”
We kiss under the twilight of that midnight hour, our hands still knit together. The roar of the waterfall softens in his arms, fading into a low, distant thunder—the kind that hums in the background as you read on a cozy night during a storm. Our coats whisper together as I rise onto my toes and press my lips to his, somewhere between the glow of the headlamp below us and the stars overhead.
