by AJ Rose
So Nate hadn’t canceled this evening’s plans and was glad for it. Despite Mitch still not telling him why he’d left, there was something unguarded about him now. More open and affectionate, like a cat brought home from the Humane Society that took a few weeks to warm up to its human, then suddenly became a cuddle-slut. Even with both of them being somewhat embarrassed over Tate’s shenanigans, and the Seekers’ reactions earlier in the evening, Nate was comfortable.
Maybe Wes was right. Tate clearly approved, or she wouldn’t have been giving him such grief. And the Seekers were nice people. Mitch was trying to be more open, and it was possible Charles could help Nate figure out what to do about his sister. Something inside his chest he didn’t even know had been out of alignment slipped into place. The relief was immediate and immense, and a surge of emotion had him blinking against a sudden sting in his eyes.
Before Tate died, he’d never felt so content, so accepted, even with his own family. If he was honest with himself, he’d been head over heels for Mitch since spending every day with him before his inexplicable disappearance. It was no stretch for those feelings to come flooding back. Knowing it was too soon to say it aloud, and definitely too soon to expect more from Mitch than he was already giving, Nate let himself acknowledge it—he was in love. Reaper or not didn’t matter anymore. Mitch could have come from another planet, and Nate would still feel this way.
Mitch walked him to his Jeep well after midnight when he noticed the late hour had crept up on them thanks to the entertaining conversation. Charles and Sylvia had said Nate was more than welcome to stay rather than drive in the dark and cold at such an hour, but it was only a couple miles. Mitch shivered, having left his coat inside.
“You’re going to get sick,” Nate tutted.
“No, I won’t,” Mitch said, but he took the opportunity to burrow into Nate’s chest, threading his arms around his waist beneath his parka. Nate reveled in such an intimate embrace, running his hands up and down Mitch’s back.
“I had a great time, apart from my goofball sister making me look bad.” Nate kissed Mitch’s temple.
“She didn’t, I promise. Honestly, she kind of broke the tension. It ended up being fun after I told them who she was. I hope that was okay. I know you don’t really talk about her to people.”
Nate shrugged. “Kind of hard not to talk about her to people who can see her ghost. It’s cool.”
“Okay, well, drive safely,” Mitch said, kissing him, chattering teeth and all.
Nate laughed and shoved him toward the front door with a swat to his ass. “Get inside before you get pneumonia.”
Mitch scurried up the steps and blew him a kiss over his shoulder before disappearing inside. Despite the cold night, Nate was warm the entire way home.
Chapter 18
In a Blink
Mitch scanned the crowded meeting room in Caperville Mountain Resort Lodge, hoping to find a recognizable face from his email from Katherine. He was nervous, so when his father’s hand landed on his shoulder, he took comfort from it.
“Relax, son. It’ll be okay.”
“I know,” he said with a nonchalance he didn’t feel, studying the faces in the room.
“Just remember what I told you and we’ll manage to get everyone where they need to be.”
Charles and Uncle Thomas had told him and Morgan a lot of things in their preparations over the last few days, starting with their experience doing group reaps. It had given Mitch a new perspective on his father’s courage. Just because reapers could heal in minutes and would never succumb to catastrophic injuries didn’t mean they felt no pain. Despite knowing the likelihood of injury was astronomical, his father had gotten into the truck of a victim of the Loma Prieta earthquake freeway collapse in the San Francisco Bay Area in 1989.
Mitch had only been two years old, and his brother, four. All he remembered was his mother being concerned and trying to keep the boys from worrying about why their daddy wasn’t home from work for dinner. But the story Charles told earlier that week had been far more harrowing.
“Why didn’t you wait somewhere off the freeway and do the job after it happened?” Morgan had asked as they’d sat at the dining room table to strategize for Saturday’s disaster.
“Due to the unstable nature of free will, sometimes the circumstances of a person’s death change, so Divinity doesn’t give us much detail beyond where we need to be when and the name of the person we’re responsible for. Your emails have faces, names, and specific locations for a very specific time, which frankly, is surprising. I had five names the day of the earthquake, and the only information I was given was that I was to follow one of my people as closely as possible, and the other four, I’d handle on site. Given those instructions, I managed to get a ride with a guy in a rental truck, and we were on the upper level of the Cypress Street Viaduct when the quake hit. Three quarters of a mile of the Viaduct’s top deck collapsed onto the lower deck, trapping people for hours. Forty-one died. We did the best we could, but in that reap, because of the kind of disaster it was, we couldn’t make the connection to all the souls before the quake struck. The rental truck I was in was launched over the side of the highway to the streets below. After I gathered the driver’s soul, I joined the rescue efforts for the remainder of my names, but honestly, to this day I don’t know if I got my specific people. By then, we reapers were simply finding untethered souls and connecting regardless of names. Even then, we didn’t stop trying to help. After enough trained personnel arrived, we were directed to leave the remainder of the rescue and recovery to the professionals, but at first, they needed hands. To carry stretchers, and flag down taxis because there weren’t enough ambulances. It was complete chaos.
“My point, boys, is that in a disaster, sometimes all the plans in the world go out the window, so we’re going to have to think quickly on our feet. Sometimes the best, most helpful we can be is simply to be present in the center of the mess. Is it possible we’ll get hurt? Absolutely. So I want you to keep an eye out, not just for your souls but for yourselves. Between the four of us, we have eighteen people to see through their doors, and while it’s not as many as I’ve seen before, we have fewer reapers this time. The more recon we can do beforehand to make pre-death connections, the better off we’ll be.”
So here Mitch was, thankful the resort had a meeting room in the lodge, where client names scrolled by on large wall monitors beneath the name of their instructor. The instructors came to this room to gather their clients after the safety speech. Because of this, when Mitch watched the monitor scroll through the list of names again, he spotted all four of his reaps under their instructor’s name: Nathan Koehn.
Fuck. How in the hell was he supposed to reap the victims with Nate watching?
Charles must have seen what he’d seen, because he spoke in Mitch’s ear, his smooth voice steadying Mitch’s nerves. “Don’t worry about it, son. He’ll be too busy when everything goes down to pay much attention to what you’re doing, as long as you’re not injured. You need to do everything you can to stay upright. You hear me?”
“Yes,” Mitch answered automatically.
“Okay, good. Now go see if Nate’s class has an opening for one more person and sign up.”
“Oh, good idea,” he said, squeezing through snowsuit-clad people to the information desk tucked into the corner of the room. The girl working the computer looked up with a pleasant smile. “Can you tell me if Nathan Koehn’s class has any openings? I was hoping to sign up if it’s not full.”
She scanned her monitor after a few seconds of furious typing, turned to him, and smiled. “There’s space for two more. Have you skied the back country before?”
Only Mitch’s practice with previous reaps, and fooling people into thinking he belonged in places he didn’t, kept his eyes from bugging out. “Yes, of course.”
Morgan walked up and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “How many openings?” he asked.
“Two,” Mitch said, raising
a brow. Morgan gave a minute nod, so he guessed his brother’s names were also on Nate’s class list.
“Excellent. Sign me up, too.”
The receptionist repeated her question to Morgan, who smiled his most charming smile and leaned forward on the counter. “Sure have, sweetheart. Trails get too crowded at the beginning of the season when everybody’s in a rush to get back on the slopes.”
“Fantastic,” she enthused. She was apparently new to the area, because when they gave their last name, she didn’t react. “That’ll be nine hundred dollars.”
Mitch coughed in disbelief, but Morgan didn’t bat an eye. Mitch, however, knew his brother well, and the slight pinch around his mouth showed his astonishment.
“That’s a lot of money. Why so much?” Mitch couldn’t help asking.
“Ten hours of an instructor’s time is quite a lot, and he can only do one class a day. The back country classes are scheduled for that duration because there are no specified trails and it’s ungroomed, so getting to the top of the mountain is more time consuming. It’s forty-five dollars per person per hour. Would you rather look into some of the shorter classes? Or perhaps book an instructor privately for a shorter duration? Private reservations are a hundred dollars per person per hour, and generally scheduled in three hour blocks.”
“No, miss,” Morgan said, regaining his barely-lost composure. “It’s fine. Back country it is, and we’ll be here all day anyway.”
“Excellent. Nate is one of our best instructors, and I can assure you, you’ll have quite the memory after the day is over. He’s more than worth it.” She swiped Morgan’s credit card and passed over the slip and a pen for him to sign. Then she slid over waivers for both their signatures. Mitch narrowed his eyes at her tone, though she remained professional. He’d have to give Nate shit about the scheduling girl having a crush on him.
A man who introduced himself as Boomer Hudson took command of the room from a single-step stage along the back wall and went over the safety instructions. Most of the people in the room paid close attention, because it wasn’t usually experts who paid for an instructor’s time unless they were buying a private escort to some of the more extreme locations on the mountain. A handful of snowboarders looked bored.
“For those of you going into the back country, if you don’t have safety gear of your own, your class fee includes a resort backpack. Do not leave without it.” Hudson pointed to a row of backpacks resting on the step in front of him. “Your instructors will be arriving shortly to take you to the lifts. As always, Caperville Mountain Resort wishes you the very best in skiing and entertainment for the duration of your stay. Thank you.”
The instructors, who’d lined up against the wall behind Hudson at the start of the briefing, fanned into the room, their black-and-red uniform parkas the epitome of power, their names embroidered over their hearts so clients could identify them. A different kind of shiver danced down Mitch’s spine as desire pooled in his gut the minute he spied Nate.
“His sister goes with him everywhere?” Morgan leaned over to whisper in Mitch’s ear, his eyes on the spectral image of Tate, who hovered above the crowd. A ghost attached to a human was new territory, so it wasn’t a dumb question. The night before, though, they’d gotten a good glimpse of her personality, and Morgan watched her with amusement as well as curiosity.
“Yes.”
“She was cute,” Morgan said with a slight smirk.
Mitch looked at him, horrified. “She’s dead. And you’re practically married.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate, little bro.”
“You’re sick.”
“No sicker than you doing the nasty with her around,” Morgan teased.
“Shut it.”
Nate called names from a clipboard after taking a note from the girl at the desk, presumably to add Mitch and Morgan to the roster, though he didn’t look at it. Standing off to the side, Mitch recognized his marks and made the soul connection to a woman, Naomi Blankenship, who stepped close enough to brush him when her name was called. His other three charges were too far away, but Mitch figured once they exited the crowded room and took the transport to the back country, he’d have a better shot.
When Nate read what was on the note, his eyes widened and he looked up, searching for Mitch.
“Excuse me for a moment,” he said to the other clients, grabbing Mitch’s arm and pulling him out of the room. “What the hell? You’re nowhere near ready for a back country class.”
Mitch poured all his flirtation, all his surety into his next few words. “I’ve been skiing without you a few more times, and I’m better than you remember. Besides, you’re the stud instructor, so show me how it’s done.” He winked and Nate flushed. It could have been the heat from wearing winter parkas inside, or it could have been the effect Mitch was hoping for. Behind and above him, Tate gave a thumbs-up.
“This is a bad idea.”
Mitch let his smile soften to something more serious. “I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll stick with Morgan, who is better than I am, and he’ll help me if you aren’t close by.”
Nate narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here today when this is the day you warned me not to come to work?” There was something more to Nate’s expression, but Mitch couldn’t pinpoint it. If he had to guess, he’d say Nate wasn’t asking what he really wanted to. Which would probably just result in Mitch saying he couldn’t answer, so Nate was probably saving himself the argument.
Mitch looked at his feet. “The truth is, I’m worried about you. So if you won’t stay away, I’m here to try and keep whatever’s coming from hurting you, too.”
“But you don’t know exactly what’s coming, do you?” Nate asked, surprisingly accepting of what was essentially Mitch predicting the future.
“No, I don’t. But I’ll feel better if you’re near me when it does, so I can keep it from happening to you, too.” Mitch’s best guesses were either a plane crashing into the mountain or an avalanche. His money was on the plane, since the body count was pretty high for an avalanche, and small planes crashed into mountains more often than he wanted to consider. He assumed if it was a crash, there’d be reapers aboard the plane to handle those casualties, and he and the rest of his family were responsible for the people on the ground.
“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?” Nate said pleadingly.
“Nope,” Mitch answered, popping the P and grinning. He wanted to lean forward and kiss Nate, but he didn’t think it would be nice of him since this was Nate’s workplace.
“Dude, your class is getting restless,” a guy with the name Troy embroidered on his parka walked up to them, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the meeting room. “Don’t make them boil in their gear any longer than necessary, Gold.”
“Gold?” Mitch raised a brow.
Nate reddened. “He gave me a nickname for being an Olympic alternate. He seems to forget I never competed in an Olympics, let alone won a medal.”
Mitch laughed and stuck out his hand to Troy. “Mitch Seeker. Nice to meet you.”
Troy broke into a smile as he accepted the handshake. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Nice to meet you, too.” He turned to Nate before Mitch had time to wonder if what he’d heard was rumors or if he was referring to Nate talking about him. “Let’s go, Gold. Time’s a wasting.”
Morgan had made two of his soul connections with a couple in front of him during role call, and Mitch tried to sidle closer to his as Nate explained they’d be meeting two transport trucks to take the class to the top of the mountain for the first run.
“We’ll be on the leeward side today, and conditions are good since we’ve received a lot of natural snow the last couple of weeks. Temps may be a little warmer than average, so it should be a beautiful day to slide down hills with sticks on our feet. Please take a moment to turn on your beacons in your backpacks, and we’ll be ready to go. Any questions?”
No one had any, so he led them from the building into the cool ai
r. It was cloudy, which held temperatures steady after yesterday’s warmup, and Mitch found himself watching Nate engage the students individually. He was charming and funny, and the group responded to him well. Pride burst in Mitch’s chest, knowing he was with this man, and for a moment he forgot the purpose of being on the mountain today.
The class chatted happily as they rode the transports to the top, and as they disembarked, Nate reminded them that was the easiest they’d have it getting to the top the rest of the day, so he hoped they were energized and ready to go. After a few more tips and tricks, Nate counted them off, keeping them well spaced but close enough together he could keep an eye on them. Morgan flexed his knees beside Mitch and hurled down the hill when Nate waved him on. Then it was Mitch’s turn.
He hadn’t been lying about having been to the resort more since Nate first taught him, but he quickly realized he was in over his head because of the ungroomed nature of the trails. There were more obstacles, and it took all his concentration to avoid them. Nate’s skis shushed along behind him, a reminder he was being carefully watched, and if he made too many mistakes, Nate would send him packing for his own safety, and he’d have to find another way to be in the center of the coming disaster.
The wind burned his cheeks beneath his goggles, and his palms sweated inside his gloves, but he quickly found the exhilaration Nate had first introduced him to weeks ago, and he remembered to let the skis do the talking. Relaxing into his position, his thighs burning with glorious exertion, Mitch flew. The less tense he was, the easier it was to dodge the trees and boulders dotting the landscape, the latter of which were more difficult to see with the thirty inch base of snow. He had a few wobbles, but for the most part made it down the slope without much difficulty. When he slid to a stop, he whooped and fell backward into the snowpack. Beaming into the sky, he tried to calm his heaving breaths and lay there, enjoying the adrenaline rush.
