Where the Darkness Goes

Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

TESSA — AGE 17

The lodge is just as you’d picture it—snow-capped mountains and gray skies providing a perfect backdrop to the warm amber of the wooden building. There are tall windows along the front, giving a perfect view of the inside, bustling with people in front of tall fireplaces. Outside, skiers are gathered in droves and lines in various stages of their lessons. From a distance, they’re just black dots, some zooming and others wobbling their way across the white blanket of snow.

It’s perfect—and it had better be for the amount of fundraising we had to do to make the trip happen in the first place.

The sight of the ski lift carrying people to the peak does something funny to my belly. I’ve never been a fan of heights.

Next to me, Garrett is sitting up straight, wiggling in place as we edge closer up the mountain. He tosses me a cocky look, one that he’s practically famous for, and pulls out his phone, checking the time.

He’s had to pee for the last hour, and each bump is causing him agony, though I’m enjoying myself quite a bit. At least it’s kept him occupied so he’s not…doing whatever it is he’s doing lately.

I don’t know what this is, this weird, flirty thing that’s gotten into him. I thought I understood at the lake house, but when I’d pushed him to admit what he wanted, he froze. Either that, or I seriously misread things.

If I’m honest with myself, I don’t know how I feel about him. I can’t stop thinking about us in the closet or the way it made me feel to have his eyes on me in the lake. I’m not going to pretend I don’t find him gorgeous and kind and funny and easy to talk to, but he’s also maddening. Aside from Britney and my brother, Garrett knows me better than anyone in the world, but despite my best efforts, he’s not the best at letting me know him . His wall is miles high, and I’ve scaled it, picked it apart, and blown it to smithereens, but as soon as I think I’ve made progress, he rebuilds.

Besides, he’s… Garrett. Maybe there has always been something between us—the way he sticks around to talk to me for a few seconds after Will leaves the room, the way he texts me to ask something random even though sometimes it feels like maybe he just needed an excuse to check in, the way we constantly seem to find each other in crowded rooms—but without proof, I shoved any suspicions I had away and suffocated them.

Now, we spend our time dancing around the subject, and I won’t be the first to say it. I can’t. Especially not after the way he shut down at the lake and refused to tell me what’s in his head. Even before we were interrupted by Will, he had plenty of chances to tell me what he wants. And if that’s me.

If I’m misreading this somehow, I’ll be the one who will have to live out the remainder of the year flooded with embarrassment.

There’s also the fact that I know how Garrett is. He goes out with a lot of girls, but I’ve never actually seen him date anyone seriously, as in for more than a week. The wall thing again, I guess.

He’s not a player necessarily. Not the type of guy who’d intentionally hurt anyone. He’s just…wild. A wild animal that doesn’t let anyone get too close, that will never let anyone tame him.

At least I’m not foolish enough to think I could be that person.

When the bus stops, we collect our bags, file off, and find out our room assignments. Will and Garrett are paired together thanks to their last names being similar, but I’m paired with Kinsey Bell, who is nice enough but pretty shy.

Inside the lodge, we’re given keys to our rooms and sent to check in before being told we can meet back outside afterward to get our ski lift ticket and rent our clothing and equipment.

Kinsey and I unpack in relative silence, except for the CMT music videos playing on the TV.

“So, you like Garrett, huh?” she asks, pulling on a sweater over her shirt.

“We’re friends.” The words are automatic after years of practice, but this time they don’t feel honest. At this point I don’t know what we are—don’t know what I want and don’t know what he wants—but friendship might not be enough for either of us anymore.

I’m just not sure how I feel about that.

That night, our bodies are sore and exhausted from hours of skiing. Or, in my case, attempted skiing. I never made it to even the entry level of the lessons—the bunny slope—because I couldn’t make it past the training on the conveyor belt without falling over. My brother, on the other hand, was skiing on the level just under that of a professional skier before the sun set.

Once everyone has returned their equipment and changed into warmer clothes, we meet outside to hang out before bed. Most of us gather around the oversized fire pit outside, while a few people kick off their shoes and stick their feet in the hot tub. Others walk around the mountain, taking in the views. Kinsey is on the phone with her mom.

I’m alone near the fire, mind drifting to thoughts of sleep and the long ride home tomorrow when I feel him behind me. Feel him. It’s the strangest thing. I hear his footsteps, maybe, but there’s a lot of noise so it’s not just that. Something in my body seems to sense him in the way I’ve always imagined mothers must know where their children are. The way Mom always knows when I’m up to something without glancing my way.

I turn my head just in time for him to drop down next to me in the snow.

“So, how’d it go?” he asks, teasing. He knows how it went. He skied circles around the conveyor belt I was practicing on at least ten times.

I go stone-faced. “Great, actually. You missed it, but I was just invited to join next year’s Olympic team.”

His smile is a warm sort of sarcastic. “Really? Wow. Don’t forget about us little people. I can’t wait to tell everyone I’m friends with someone famous.”

I pretend to struggle to place him, squinting. “Sorry. What was your name again?”

He throws his head back with a laugh. “See, this is the problem with fame.” He taps my temple. “Straight to your head.”

“I’ve already ordered a bigger hat.” This is when I’m the happiest. When we’re being silly together. I’m grateful it’s a piece of this that hasn’t been lost or changed. Garrett understands my humor better than anyone, and he always has a comeback ready. “I take it you guys did better?”

“Your brother kicked my butt, but I wasn’t too bad.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe skiing isn’t my thing, either. I think I’d rather be somewhere warm.”

“Hot tub’s free.” I jut my chin toward it. It’s built into the ground with such thick steam rising up it looks like soup.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “You first. I prefer my appendages to stay thawed, thank you.”

“Tell me about it. I’m starting to worry I’ll never get warm again. Our room has a big bathtub, and I’m counting down until I can go back to the room without looking antisocial. I plan to soak until the feeling starts to come back.”

When I look at him, his eyes are sort of fuzzy and distant. Like he’s not really listening to me. He swallows a gulp of coffee before meeting my gaze again. “Yeah. Same,” he croaks.

“Sorry. Am I boring you?” I ask, not nearly as offended as I sound.

He laughs. “No. The opposite, in fact.” His expression falters a bit, the playfulness washing away, and he looks entirely serious as he says, “You’re keeping me way too entertained lately. It’s becoming a problem.”

I blink. “Explain.”

He shakes his head, looking around, and now it feels like we’re in a covert conversation. “This is all so weird, Tessa. I have no idea what we’re doing.”

At least he finally said it so I know I’m not alone in this anymore. But even as I agree, it stings to hear him call this that word. ‘Weird’ isn’t exactly a compliment. I start to leave, to tell him we should just forget it, but he takes my hand, stopping me before I can stand.

“But I do know I…I want to find out.” He twists each of my fingers in between his slowly, almost caressing me.

It does feel weird, I can admit—if only to myself—but it also feels weirdly right.

“What do you want to find out?” I ask slowly, pacing myself because I’m almost afraid of the answer.

He huffs out a breath. “Everything.” His hand moves to scratch the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous. “Turns out, I’m, uh, pretty obsessed with you.”

My eyes widen. I didn’t expect him to be so blunt. It’s not like him. “You are?”

Behind him, the sky is getting dark, and the light from the fire reflects on his face as he studies me. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip before pushing up from the ground. “Will you walk with me?”

He holds out his hand, waiting.

It takes a few seconds for me to process the request and a few more seconds to agree to it. I slip my hand into his and let him pull me up.

He nudges his head toward the right side of the building, where we took lessons earlier today. Now that it’s getting dark, the area is deserted.

“You’ve never just been Will’s little sister to me, you know?”

He’s still holding my hand. His fingers are laced with mine, and I have no idea what to do about it. This all feels like a dream.

“I mean, obviously you were that. Are that. But you were— are —also my friend. And, for a long time, that’s the only way I saw you. You were this friend who was always around, and when something good would happen—or something bad, I guess—you and Will were the first people I wanted to tell. As much as we annoy each other, you are someone important to me, and I never want to lose that.”

We’re walking slower now as we round the building and near the fence that blocks off the training area.

“I don’t want to either,” I tell him. The seriousness of the conversation is uncomfortable when I’m so used to joking with him. At the same time, I very much want to see where this is heading.

“And then I started to…to see you differently.”

“You mean I got hot.”

At that, he snorts. “Yes, Tessa. You got hot. But you also got…interesting in a way I wasn’t expecting.”

I cock my head to the side. “Whereas before I was boring?”

“Before, you were just you. And suddenly, you were different. Er, I was different. I don’t know. I started to think about you, you know? Really, really think about you. Not just when we were together, but…” He looks away. “All the time, I guess.”

“You thought about me, how? Like you really wanted me to kick your butt at Smash Bros? Or more like you really hoped I would stop leaving books in the hallway for you and Will to trip over when you sneak back home at night?”

His eyes go dark while he studies me, the thought so clear on the end of his tongue I can practically read it. “Like I really wanted you. ”

His words wash over me as if each one is a finger tracing along my collarbone.

“Oh.” I puff out a breath, shocked by his fearless honesty. This is such a different conversation than I’m used to with him. Such a different version of him.

He looks away. “And you were still Will’s little sister.”

“Right. Doesn’t change.” I try to laugh, but it falls flat. There’s nothing funny about the way he’s looking at me.

“Right. And no matter how badly I…”

“Wanted me,” I remind him, though this time there’s nothing teasing in my words. I want to remind myself it’s real.

“Right. No matter how badly I wanted you, the idea of ever bringing that up to Will was terrifying. I thought he’d kick my ass and never let me come over to the house again. I thought he’d tell me you were off limits.”

“Will isn’t the boss of me.”

We’ve stopped now, just along the wooden fence.

“I know. But he could ask me to stay away, or start coming to my house rather than having me over, and the idea of losing all of you in that way was enough to keep me quiet.” He rushes to add, “Not that you weren’t worth it, you know? It was just that you guys are my family, and if I couldn’t visit anymore?—”

“No, I get it,” I cut him off. “Truly. You’re at our house more than yours, and well, we’ve never really talked about it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t notice.”

His jaw is tight as he nods, and this seems to be the first uncomfortable part of the conversation for him, which is crazy to me. I know his family is large. He’s one of six kids, and they just found out his mom is pregnant again. They’re busy and overwhelmed, but they don’t seem like bad people.

Our house probably feels like an oasis, though, ordinary as it is. At least it’s quiet most days.

“Then I saw you at my party talking to Brendan, and I thought Will would be furious, but he just, well, he wasn’t. He said he was a ‘good dude.’”

I chuckle as Garrett does a convincing impression of Will with those last two words.

He looks down at me, eyes warming at my laughter. “And when I asked him about it, he just blew it off. Said he wasn’t the kind of brother who’d try to control who you dated and a bunch of other stuff that made me realize I’d had it all wrong. I was planning to talk to you about it, but then you were with Brendan and I panicked. Will was right. Brendan is a good dude, as much as I hate it, and I didn’t want to make enemies with him or hurt you if you didn’t feel anything for me. So, I guess I thought if I could just keep you from falling for him—” He rubs his lips. “I don’t know what I thought, honestly. And then we played that game, and it seemed like if you had any feelings for me, even if they were way, way down, it might help you realize you were with the wrong guy. But then we got in the closet and it was so real. I’d forced my way into the party because I was jealous of Brendan, but I had no idea what to do once I had a real shot with you. If I had a real shot. I chickened out.”

“You were scared of kissing me?”

His eyes flicker down to meet mine, and his chest puffs with a deep breath that he slowly releases. “Terrified. I mean, I’ve kissed a few people before, but this is different. This is you. It means something because it’s you.”

Warmth blooms in my chest, spreading like an ink stain. I bend over, setting my cup of cocoa down and wiggling it in place to create a space for it in the snow. I take Garrett’s without asking, setting it next to mine.

“Can I ask why you’re stealing my coffee?”

“Because.” I pinch my tongue between my teeth, twisting the cup until it stands in the snow on its own. “We are getting a do-over.”

“A do-over?” His brows wrinkle together.

“Unless you don’t want to.”

“No, I do,” he rushes to say.

I take both of his hands, holding them in mine. “Look, I don’t know what this is either, but I’m just a girl, Garrett. I’m just me. You can’t be scared of me.”

“I’m scared to hurt you. I’m scared to mess this up.”

“You won’t. I trust you.”

He closes his eyes, drawing in another long breath. “What are you saying?”

I lace my fingers with his. “I’m saying kiss me. And please don’t take seven minutes this time.”

Something changes in his stature. His shoulders and body language go from languid and nervous to dominant like the flick of a switch. He squares himself to me, stepping forward until our bodies are pressed together. His hand comes up to my cheek, thumb resting under my jawbone as he tilts my head up just a bit more. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip at the same time as he brushes mine with his thumb.

His eyes are dark and drunk with something heavy and hot, something I feel on every inch of my skin. The confidence I knew seconds ago is a distant memory as his eyes lock on my lips.

Then, oh so slowly, his lips descend on mine. The kiss is soft at first, testing, but his hands are on opposite sides of my head. Even when he’s gentle, he’s in control. Directing me, holding me, making me feel everything all at once until I’m dizzy.

I’m a feather floating through the air as a growl comes from somewhere deep in his throat, and then, without warning, he moves forward, easing me back until I’m pressed against the gate.

There’s nothing innocent about this now—nothing that feels like a first kiss with someone new. This is someone I know. Someone I want. Someone I feel like I’ve been meant to kiss all along.

Long, sure fingers tangle in my hair, and he turns my head, kissing my jaw before his hands are on my waist. His warm palms slide down my body. Stopping his descent, his thumbs press into my hip bones, shooting a jolt of lava through my insides. He lifts me up, and I gasp. He smiles against my mouth, and nothing has ever been so perfect and magical as this kiss, surrounded by chilly white tundra while my insides rage hot. He places me down on the top horizontal post of the gate, slipping his body between my legs, hands back in my hair.

It’s like he can’t get enough of me, and I revel in that power.

I wrap my legs tighter around him. Now’s my chance to tangle my fingers through his hair, the curls I’ve always loved so much. He groans, kissing me harder, holding me against him with such fervor it’s as if he’s afraid he may never get the chance again.

When I feel like my heart may explode, I place a hand on his chest, pulling back and gasping for air. No one has ever made my heart race the way it is right now. I’ve never been kissed like that. Never been looked at the way he’s looking at me.

I can’t help grinning over the sight of his red lips, wild hair, and the faraway look in his eyes, both of us drunk on whatever is happening here.

It’s magical with him. All-consuming.

He smiles, resting his forehead on mine. “Well, we definitely should’ve been doing that in the closet instead.”

The way he’s looking at me is something unexpected. Fiery hot, but intensely captivating. Lust and admiration rolled into one. If I had a mirror, I’d imagine my expression is eerily similar.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at anyone else this way, but at the same time, I’m realizing I think he’s always looked at me this way. I don’t know why it took either of us so long to notice.

“We should probably get back,” he says eventually. “While I still have enough willpower to say that.”

I tug on the collar of his shirt. “Please don’t use words that contain my brother’s name right now.”

He kisses me again, quickly this time, then turns to pick up our cups and hands mine to me, offering his hand to help me down from the gate.

“What does this mean?” I ask him, locking my hand with his as we walk through the snow and back to join our classmates. Without the warmth of his body on mine, everything feels so much colder. “Like, are we just…people who kiss each other now?”

I expect him to say we don’t need to define it or that he’s not sure, like Brendan and so many other guys have. Instead, he squeezes my hand, his eyes drilling into mine with a boyish grin playing on his lips.

“I hope it means you’re mine. Because I’m sure as hell yours.”