Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
JAMES
S omeone needed to turn down the sun.
I pulled the coarse blanket over my face, squeezing my eyes shut, and still the bright light penetrated through any gap it could. My head pounded, my pulse beating a rhythm right through my damn skull.
“God damn it all to Hell,” I muttered, flopping facedown onto the mattress and covering my head with my pillow.
Wrong move. Suddenly I felt ten times worse. I rolled onto my back, conceding to the bright sunlight happily streaming in through the window, a reminder that a new day was upon us. Fresh beginnings, or whatever that bullshit was.
I was feeling anything other than a fresh beginning. I wasn’t sure which was worse—the massive knot in my stomach, or the fact my brain was doing its best to claw its way out through my eyeballs.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this hungover. Years, definitely. Maybe even since university, a group of us going down to the bar. I had never been young and carefree, not like most of the men my own age, but that was probably the closest to “free” I’d ever felt. Recent hangover or not, I did remember why I didn’t drink heavily anymore.
Because the next day sucked. What was even worse than being hungover and woken up before you were ready? Being on a goddamn boat and being woken up before you were ready while the floor swayed underneath you.
“It’s your own fucking fault,” I grumbled, pressing my fingertips into my temples. “You’re smarter than this James. But you let yourself get a little emotional and look where it got you?—“
Shit . The entire evening came flooding back to me in one painful rush of blood. Hearing Scarlett and Camp together. Heading downstairs and pouring myself a drink. Then another. And another, until I lost count. And… begging Camp to tell me what she tasted like?
No. I could never.
Well, I could. I think I did.
But it was pretty stupid of me. I wasn’t the kind to play my cards so openly.
The cabin door next to me slammed shut, and I gave up trying to sleep any longer. I needed caffeine, and I needed it now. Realistically, I needed an entire breakfast, dripping in grease, and a coffee ten times too strong, but I’d take what I could get.
Quiet conversation echoed in front of my door. I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. Knowing my current batch of luck, it was probably Camp and Scarlett, whispering whatever unnecessarily sweet things teenagers in their first relationship said. They seemed the sort.
Not that I cared. Last night had been a slip up. A temporary blip on the radar, from too much closeness from people I typically wouldn’t have looked twice at. That was all.
The way her hair drifted to her shoulders in the most enchanting way had nothing to do with it. Nor the way she threw her shoulders back when she was annoyed with me, giving herself an extra inch of height.
A blip.
I winced when a series of sharp raps hit my door. “Go away,” I snapped. I really wasn’t in the mood to hear Camp’s explanation, and I definitely didn’t want his apology. Nor did I want to see Scarlett’s face of sympathy as she peered around Camp’s shoulder. I wouldn’t consider any of that my idea of a good time.
“Open up, James.”
It wasn’t Camp’s deep voice on the other side of the door. It was Nash’s. I wasn’t sure which one of those assholes was the better option at this point. I also knew Nash wasn’t going to stop fucking knocking until I opened it.
I stormed out of bed and swung it open to see Nash’s easy, tanned face looking at me, free of any emotions.
Huh . I had expected him to still be angry with me. Resentful, maybe. Not emotionless.
“Good morning.” His voice was bright and cheerful, too bright and cheerful for this early in the goddamn morning when my head felt like I’d been crushed by a steamroller.
“Yeah, sure.” I rubbed my temples, trying to convince the pain to go away so I could focus. “What do you need?”
“Some greeting.” Nash shrugged and pushed his sleeves up. For the first time I realized he was wearing a shirt, which from my time on the boat was a rarity for him. The thin material almost looked gauzy, and far lighter than any of my impractical, once-starched shirts hanging in the aging wardrobe. “We’re headed onto land today, going to explore a waterfall. I know we haven’t exactly been seeing eye to eye, but I’m also not a thousand percent on where your… investmen t is. The directions are pretty vague. It could be here. It could be ten miles upriver. It could be a hundred. But on the off chance it’s here, I thought you might?—“
I blinked. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be there in five.”
Nash nodded. “Cool. Did you want to borrow a shirt? We’re going to be hiking for a bit, and I’m not sure you brought anything other than dress shirts.”
Bristling, I sneered. “I’ll be fine, thanks. See you in five.” I all but slammed the door in his face.
I had basically only brought my dress shirts, minus a jacket, but in my defense, I hadn’t expected to be trekking through the bush either. Call me na?ve, but I’d been assuming we’d take the boat down to wherever Clancy set up camp on the embankment. I’d do what I needed to do to regain control of the situation, and then we’d be off again. There wasn’t any need for casual clothing.
Obviously, I’d thought wrong. But like hell if I was about to admit that to Nash, or worse, borrow his clothing. Who knew the last time he’d done laundry. Knowing him, he probably washed it in the river, beating it against a rock. God only knew what kind of diseases it held.
I’d be fine. I shrugged into my clothes, grabbed my satchel filled with the paperwork I needed to hold Clancy accountable, and a fair amount of cash if I needed to buy off any of his workers. They worked for me, by all accounts, but I wasn’t above a bribe if it meant I got what I wanted.
Outside my room, I was sure it was hotter than it’d been yet on the boat. The heat spread like a fog, settling on my skin, sweat already starting to pool in my pores. Fuck .
I tugged at my collar, hoping for even a whisper of a breeze, but there was nothing. Just the thick, humid air of the rainforest. Clancy better be waiting for me, or there would be hell to pay.
I followed the sounds of voices to the side of the boat, where Nash, Scarlett and Camp stood in a small group, looking all too cozy with each other. When I approached, they each turned to look at me. I filed away their expressions, not caring to process them when I had to spend an entire day in their company.
Scarlett looked at me briefly, then looked away before I could figure out the emotion behind her eyes. Camp scanned me with a sharp gaze, probably checking to make sure I wasn’t still drunk from the night before—not like it mattered, I was still be twice the man he was, drunk or not. Finally, Nash cast a sad glance in my direction, possibly even disappointment.
Strange. Although, we were an odd group of people thrown together by even odder circumstances. I wasn’t sure what else I could hope for.
Nash tightened the strap of his light-looking backpack and gave us all a quick nod. “Right. We’re off. Remember the rules, okay? Stay close. If it looks dangerous, it probably is. If it doesn’t look dangerous, it’s probably deadly. Jaguars are primarily nocturnal and should be sleeping, so they shouldn’t be a problem. But stay away from the frogs, please.”
He heaved the gangplank easily over the edge of the boat, where it crashed down to the muddy riverbank in front of us. “All right, one at a time.”
Camp went first, easily scaling the steep walkway. Scarlett followed, and I didn’t miss the gentle way Nash helped her up over the edge—even though she didn’t need a hand, I was sure. She was far more capable than either of them realized.
“You next, James.” Nash gestured toward the ramp.
Ignoring the way my skin prickled beneath my shirt, I leaped over the side of the boat, the walkway squelching into the mud with each step.
Once Nash was off, he patted down his cargo pants, checking the tightness of the holder that held a machete, and pointed to the rainforest ahead of us, where there looked to be only the barest shape of a path. “That way.”
We followed off in a misshapen line, with Camp and Scarlett leading us, quiet conversation between them trickling back to me.
I wondered what they were talking about. If they were talking about me. If they were talking about all the things Camp did to her, and what he wanted to do to her when we got back to the boat in the evening.
I was jealous, I realized with a start. Jealous. The stupid little green-eyed monster that was so beneath me I hadn’t considered it. But here I was just the same, envying the closeness between Scarlett and Camp, and wondering if I’d ever have that for myself.
I wanted Scarlett on my arm, brushing shoulders with the thin shirt she wore. I wanted to tug her ponytail, a dark snake down her back, poking out of the wide-brimmed hat she wore. I’d pull her hair until she had no choice but to look me in the eye. I wondered what I’d see then, when there was nothing between us, just two polarizing souls staring back at each other. Would I see hatred? Contentment? Wrath? Desire?
Maybe a combination of all four. Not that it mattered, because now Camp and Scarlett had stopped ahead of me, and he was brushing something off her shoulder. I pulled up to a stop as well, not getting any closer than I had to.
I turned when I felt someone close to me. Nash. He looked at me with that same blank stare, the one I couldn’t place when we were still on the boat.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Not like I can stop you. You can say whatever you want. Besides, they look pretty busy.” I nodded toward Camp and Scarlett. Nash paled.
“Yeah. Well. We should just be glad they found each other in this fucked up world, right?” Nash’s words fell flat, and he swallowed hard.
“Mmm.” I rolled my eyes in agreement. “What did you want to talk about?”
“The other night at dinner. I…I, ah, I’m sorry.” He fiddled with his belt, clinking together the odd tools hanging off it. The knife. A rope. A compass. He could’ve stepped out of any adventure movie.
Minus the fact he didn’t have the girl.
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, because it seemed rather pointless to me.
“Seriously. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. Despite our past, you’re still my traveler, and I should’ve respected you as such. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He was apologizing to me, for something I had done. Funny, though. His eyes never left Scarlett.
I should be the one apologizing. But the idea of it soured in my mouth, turning to ash before I could get the words out. “She deserves to know. No matter how you feel about her, or she feels about you, she deserves to know your past.”
Nash tore his eyes away from Scarlett. “Does it matter anymore? It’s obvious she’s with Camp. I don’t consider myself a homewrecker.”
“Ah. Is that the bottom of the morality list then? The tenth circle of Hell must be saved for homewreckers in your book, right below?—"
“Just stop.” Nash held up his hand. “I don’t need your opinion. I said my piece. I’ll get you to your city, you can get what you need, then you can go home. Everyone will go home, and I’ll still be here, me and Carpe Diem . And that’s best for everyone involved. Nothing needs to change.”
I narrowed my gaze, scanning him for a weakness I was missing. Surely he didn’t mean anything he was saying. Finally, I shook my head. “Suit yourself. But for what it’s worth, I’ve seen her looking at you, too.”
Nash flushed, and looked away from me. “Just drop it. If we’re lucky, your city will be on the way to this waterfall and then you’ll never have to see me again. I’ve spent a lot of years putting that period of my life behind me. I don’t need to open up the wound again. It’s been healed for a long time.”
Obviously, it wasn’t healed. If I knew him like I used to, he was probably carefully opening up the wound himself each night, a penance to some unseeing god. But I kept that thought to myself. Nash would only dig his heels in deeper, and neither one of us would make any headway. It was a pointless game. Fun, when I had the mental capacity, but right now, I didn’t. “You get me to my city, and you’ll never see my face again.”
He nodded, resolved, and left me for the front of the group, brushing past Scarlett and Camp like they were nothing more than foliage. “All right, from here on out it gets a little steep, but as long as you follow my path, you’ll be fine.”
Nash brushed aside a sweeping canopy of leaves and led us deeper into the rainforest.
There was something unnatural about being this far away from civilization. Everything was too green. Too overgrown, without the eager destruction of humans. Everywhere I looked, something was growing, sometimes multiple things out of the same place, sharing the space even though they were completely different.
I blinked, trying to keep my head screwed on straight once I realized I had been staring at the parasitic tree for so long I’d lost sight of the group. They were just up ahead, but the dense trees separated us.
It would be far too easy to lose your way in the rainforest. To lose your mind. Although, maybe I already had.
With the way my brain kept cycling over Scarlett and Camp, it wouldn’t surprise me. Maybe this whole thing was a fever dream, and I’d wake up to realize it was still only my second day on the boat.
I scoffed, swapping my bag to the other shoulder. It would be far too easy for that to be the case. Dreamers would think such a thing. Nash, for one.
Not me. I was a realist. Always had been. Always would be.
And that was why I was certain of a few things. One, Scarlett and Camp were together, whether I liked it or not. And two, Scarlett would never be mine.