Chapter 23: Stay

That night I took them up to the attic.

It was the one room in the house no guest had ever slept in.

Old skis stood stacked against the wall, and a dormer window looked out on the whole white valley.

Stefan had dragged up two mattresses and a heap of quilts.

Felix had lit a lantern.

There was a box of postcards at the foot of the bed, and it had stayed there since morning.

Nobody spoke.

I sat down in the middle of the quilts in my nightshirt and folded my legs under me.

"You said you'd ask," I said. "Go on."

Felix knelt in front of me first.

He took off his glasses and held them in his lap.

"I wrote the offer to buy you out," he said. "I thought you'd be safer far away."

"And?"

"I hoped you'd tear it up."

"I did."

"I'd like to ask you to stay," he said, "and to be chosen for yourself."

He swallowed.

"Not because we were your brother's friends, and not because you're the last one left."

I took his face in my hands.

"Yes," I said, with my eyes on his. "I choose you."

His breath broke.

I kissed him, and his hands slid up my arms and under the hem of my shirt.

He undressed me slowly and kissed every inch of skin as it came bare.

When I lay back he followed me down and settled between my thighs, and he took his time.

His mouth was patient and exact, and he watched my face the whole while, and I let him.

I came with my fingers tangled in his black hair, and I said his name.

Stefan sat down next, cross-legged, with his shirt half off.

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