"I don't know what I would have done without my family when my grandfather died. Nori's relentless positivity was probably the only reason we all survived," he admitted.
“Were you close with your grandfather?”
"Very. This was his house. The home he grew up in was on this plot of land, and when he became successful, he moved back and built this place over it. The best summers of my life were spent here with him. He taught me everything I know."
I looked around the room a little more closely now. The beams in the ceiling were knotted and nicked but beautifully stained to match the hardwood floors. The kitchen featured sleek white marble countertops and brand-new appliances that looked state-of-the-art. There were touches of history everywhere, from the frames on the walls to the notches on the doors that highlighted a growing child. Despite the elegant luxury of the lodge, it was well-lived in and well-loved.
“You must miss him very much,” I said, my eyes finding his once more. “Is that why you came here for the summer?”
“No.”
The terse answer caught me by surprise. It carried the same uneasy tension that I thought we had moved past. I swirled another bite of food on my plate and then chewed slowly. It was a poorly disguised excuse not to continue our conversation, and we both knew it. For a few more minutes, we ate in silence. It was not an awkward kind of quiet, but it also didn't carry the same ease our conversation had earlier.
When both plates were cleared and my wine glasses emptied, Alexander rose from his seat and took the dishes to the sink again. I carried my glass over to where he stood, readying myself for an uncomfortable departure.
He made no effort to move out of my way so I could place the wine glass in the sink. Once again, the warmth of his body wrapped around me, as did the smell of cedar and musk. It was intoxicating, and standing close to him had more of an effect on me than the wine had.
"Would you like to see the property before the sun sets?" he offered, his face half a foot away from mine, his warm breath on my cheek.
His dark eyes consumed me, and something in the back of my head warned against the idea. Part of me knew that if I went on this walk, there would be no going back. But I nodded my agreement anyway.
Chapter nine
Alexander
Theanswerflewoutof my mouth before I knew what was happening. After seeing how quickly she grew distant and deflated again, I kicked myself for how coldly I had answered the question. Of course, she would ask why I was here. It was a reasonable thing to ask. It was good conversation. And I couldn't begrudge her for not knowing the truth about why I returned to Voss. Anonymity was the entire reason I came.
I could see that with every passing second of silence between us, the likelihood of an early evening grew, and I hated the idea. Asta had mentioned how much Agotia loved to hike, so I figured that suggesting we traverse the property was the easiest way to get her to stay. But now that we were out here, the silence had returned like a heavy cloak, and I couldn't seem to escape from under it.
“This is breathtaking,” she said, her words filled with awe.
"It is my favorite place in the world," I agreed. "I have been to many beautiful places worldwide, and nothing compares to this."
"I missed this view the most when I lived in New York. When I could scrape together enough time and spare change, I would get out of the city just far enough away to see the sunset."
"Why did you move to New York City?" I asked, hoping that we would ease ourselves back into the conversation.
"School. I applied to New York University in high school, never thinking I would go. But I was accepted on a full ride, and my father pushed me to go. So, I did. I love it there, and after an internship in my junior and senior years, I was lucky enough to get a job. It wasn't much, but there had been many growth opportunities, and that was what I loved the most about it."
“What brought you back?”
Perhaps it wasn't a fair question since I had been so unwilling to share what lured me here, but I wanted to keep her talking so I could keep listening.
"My father," she said with a sigh. "He hid his illness from me for a long time, knowing I would have moved home sooner if he had told me. I am grateful for his nurse calling me to tell me how bad things had gotten. By the time I came back, we had a week left together. He still wanted to get up and check on the farm every day and had argued with his nurse for days so he could be on the ride to pick me up from the airport. Nothing has been the same without him."
I scrambled for the right words to say, but I knew there were none. I knew the pain of losing someone you loved so dearly, and the only thing that could heal that was time. Not knowing what else to do, I stepped closer to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side. She was tense for a moment, but eventually, she relaxed into my embrace, and I squeezed her tighter.
Nori would have been shocked if she had been here to see this. I was never overly affectionate, but the way Agotia talked about her father drew me to hold her close. She took a deep breath before pulling out of my embrace. She didn't step as far away from me this time, though.
The mountains were the perfect backdrop for the rest of our walk. We traveled down the usual path I took for my runs, and I showed her my favorite spots with the prettiest overlooks. There was still half an hour of daylight left when we got back to the house. She stopped at the old rope swing in the front yard.
"This place was built for children. It must have been a dream to come here growing up," she said, lowering herself onto the seat and kicking out her legs.
“It was. Being here was like an escape. I hated when school would start again because it meant leaving.”
"What were you escaping from?" she asked, her voice gentle and unsure as if she was hoping to avoid another cold response.
"My parents had a volatile marriage. My father had a wandering eye and hands, and my mother had a hot temper. They were probably the worst things for each other. Our home was rarely peaceful between their arguments and my sister's bickering. Being out here, it was often just my grandparents and me. The house was quiet, and I had their undivided attention. I cannot tell you how many times I wished I could have lived with them, no siblings, no parents."
