Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I have to say, it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
It’s also the most drunk I’ve been in a long time. Part of me is still behaving. I’m aware that I’m a protection officer, even if Einar is in charge of the lot of us right now and I’m rightfully inebriated.
I also have to say, it feels good. To shove that part of me that constantly has to be on high alert to the back of my brain. To let things feel free and easy and good for once.
I don’t know Magnus and his family very well at this point. I know as a person in my position, gaining trust takes time. It’s not just about them trusting me, since Magnus does trust me enough with their lives, but about me trusting them. It was years before I felt that Prince Eddie was someone who had my back, and even then I was always hyperaware of our relationship and our roles. Bodyguards are supposed to slip into the background by nature. We’re supposed to remain aloof and mysterious and cold. Devoted to our jobs and our duty. We aren’t supposed to form relationships and attachments to the people we are sworn to protect.
And yet sitting here with Magnus telling some outrageous story to Ottar and Einar about a lost goat, Ella giggling with Lady Jane and Laila, it really does feel like I’ve found something. Not quite family. I’m not sure I’ll ever find that (and honestly, I’m not sure I’d ever let myself find that). But it’s something that makes me feel included. It’s a peculiar, warm feeling that I’ve never felt before.
Or maybe I’m just drunk.
The party continues until Ella starts yawning and Magnus goes up into the loft to discover the boys have passed right out. He carries them down the ladder, one on each arm like he’s in a strongman competition, and then says the family is retiring to bed, leaving the rest of us in the cabin.
Things start to wind down. Einar goes up to the loft to sleep, so it’s now Lady Jane, Ottar, Laila, and me talking around the fire, drinking Scotch that will probably add to my hangover. Then Ottar decides to turn in.
Then Lady Jane.
Leaving Laila and me on the couch.
But I’m not feeling the slightest bit sleepy, and I know if we continue to talk, we’ll keep everyone up.
“Shall we go for a walk?” I whisper to her.
She gives me a look like, Are you serious?
I shrug. “Suit yourself.”
I pile on my coat, scarf, hat, and gloves, and then as I’m pulling on my boots, she’s doing the same, the bottle of Scotch in her hand.
This is either going to be a great idea or a terrible one.
We step outside into the winter wonderland.
It’s freezing cold, our breath white in the air, and yet my blood feels full of fire. The path to the outhouse is worn down by now, and Magnus wasn’t kidding when he said it was the nicest outhouse. Fully insulated, with a heater, a lamp, hand sanitizers, a proper toilet seat, even a magazine rack. But there’s another small path that leads into an outcropping of thin pines.
“Follow me,” Laila says, heading down the path. I follow her. The only sound is our breath and the velvet crunch of our boots on the packed snow.
But as we walk through the pines, the sound of trickling water becomes clearer. The motion lights from the cabin are losing their reach, and before I tell her it’s too dark, that we need to turn back, she pulls out a flashlight.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask her. “Is this the murder death trap part of the visit?”
She lets out a soft laugh, sounding like music in the frozen night.
“We’ll see.”
Well, that’s not promising.
“Down there is a waterfall,” she says to me. With the moon breaking through the clouds I can see it frozen, suspended in air like magic, with only a thin stream of water pouring through underneath. “That’s where the drinking water comes from. In the summer we went swimming and Magnus showed me how they’re able to pump the water up to the cabin.”
“Very impressive. I’m starting to think you Norwegians can do everything.”
“I’m saving the best for last,” she says. “You okay to climb up some rocks?”
“Who do you think you’re talking to here?” I say. “Just point to the rocks and I’ll climb them.”
In the light of the moon I see her bite her lip, and it takes everything in me not to hold her face in my hands and do the same to her.
Take it easy, I have to remind myself. The alcohol has a way of making me want to break all my promises.
“Always with something to prove,” she says to me, shining the flashlight up a slight incline, the rock half-covered by snow.