“And when I’m with you, that all fades away. You ground me in a different reality, where there’s just you and me. I haven’t used alcohol or drugs, because I’ve used you.”

“I knew that,” she whispered. “It’s never bothered me. It only got under my skin when you wouldn’t talk to me, like sleeping with me would answer all my questions, explain everything I needed to know. Sometimes it felt like you were distracting me from asking. That, I despised.”

“No, I was distracting myself. Answering your questions meant examining them, because I’ve never been able to hold back with you. It’s always been full measures or nothing. No halfway bullshit.”

She ran her fingers through my hair, and I groaned when she scratched her nails lightly over my scalp. God, it felt so damn good.

“I’ve always loved that about us. We’re all in. Always.”

“Yes.”

“But that’s not ugly. Nothing you’ve told me is ugly.”

My stomach dropped, and we passed through the station on route to Peak Eight. I looked up to the green mountains, their beauty overwhelming, their sheer size distorted because we were too close to accurately gauge their mass.

“Even knowing everything we have, this incredible love that we share, our beautiful life that we’re building…” I shook my head and looked down at her knees.

“Josh.” She tipped my chin. “I’m here. No matter what you’re about to say.”

“Having done that mission, medevaced the wounded… Ember, I’ve found my purpose. I’ll always go when they call. How many deployments can you wait through? How many times can I leave you?”

Fear streaked through her eyes, but she masked it before I could question her. “As many as it takes. I would rather sit home and wait for you, than spend a lifetime with anyone else. By the time the next deployment comes along, you’ll be healed, and I’ll be stronger.”

“That’s not the life you wanted. We said I’d get out after my contract, remember?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I know, and I still want that. And this is the life I wanted, because I have you. Everything else will fall in place.”

The gondola stopped, and I helped Ember to her feet. We came out at the base of Peak Eight, and I walked us toward the superlift.

“Okay, now you have me confused,” she said, her hand tightly in mine. “Everything there is to do is over there.” She pointed toward the alpine slide.

“Oh, you think I’d sign up to hurl myself down a mountain with nothing but a sled and a tube slide?”

She scoffed. “Yeah, it’s probably not nearly enough of a rush for you.”

“You wound me.” I slapped my hand over my chest as we made our way to the base of the superlift.

“Mr. Walker?” the attendant asked.

“That’s me, well, us,” I said, gesturing to a very confused Ember.

“Ms. Patricks will meet you at the top.”

“Thank you,” I told him as we sat in the middle of the four-person lift chair. It accelerated at the very edge of the platform, and we were airborne, our feet kicking without ground beneath us.

“Oh my God,” Ember muttered, trying to tuck her dress under her thighs.

I laughed. “No one can see you, babe. Let it fly free.”

“No way in hell,” she muttered. “There’s got to be cameras.”

“Then they can catch this.” I captured her face and turned it toward mine, then kissed the breath out of her. She melted into me, her dress long forgotten. I kept the kiss slow, lazy, savoring every gasp from her lips, every time her breath stuttered. There was no distraction here, no phone ringing, no one in the background. The absolute quiet was perfection.

She giggled when my hand grazed her thigh. “One-track mind?”

“When it comes to you? Always.”

The lift reached the top of the hill and slowed. I helped her dismount and swung her into my arms when she tripped. She looped her arms around my neck, and I couldn’t ever remember feeling as happy as I did in that moment, carrying the woman I loved.

We made our way through the longer strands of grass, the tiny wildflowers that dotted the terrain, until we reached a large, wooden platform. “Are you going to put me down?” she asked.

“No,” I answered, climbing the few steps it took to come out onto the stagelike surface. “There’s room for about seventy people up here. At least, that’s what they’re telling me.”

“Oh?” she asked, not really looking at the platform. Her eyes focused on the view. “Josh, it’s gorgeous.”

The mountains rose before us in stark contrast to the blue of the sky. They were covered in green to the treeline, the town of Breckenridge appearing tiny beneath us. “It’s perfect.”

“I’ve never seen a more beautiful view.”

I set her down, her little sandals plunking against the wood, and then I stood opposite her, taking her hands in mine. “I think this view is as good as my life will get. Except maybe in about a year. This is perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” she asked, tilting her head.

“For marrying me.” I watched closely as her eyes widened and her lips parted. Her gaze swept over the platform behind us to the view in front of us and then back to my eyes.

“We can get married here?”

“We can. They don’t have an opening until early next summer, so we’d have to wait until June and pray there’s no snow, but yeah. You said a mountaintop in Colorado, and I thought, what better place than where this all started for us—Breckenridge. We can have the ceremony up here, and the reception in the lodge, which I’ve been told is very sought-after. Repeatedly.”