Eleven
L ater that same day, her hangover gone, Rheo was now hungry, so she tossed chicken pieces in the air fryer. Her black bean, grilled chicken, and corn salad was one of the few meals she could prepare with any success. She took a bottle of water from the fridge, wondering where Fletch was. She hadn’t seen him since their argument earlier, but she’d spent a lot of time thinking about his comments and her lack of interest in living outside her comfort zone.
Was she such an outlier? Was her reaction to Fletch’s suggestion so out of the norm? Weren’t most people interested in living steady, stable lives? The majority of the world wasn’t like Fletch—someone who enjoyed living life on the edge of a hurricane.
He thrived on feeling out of his comfort zone. Most people didn’t.
Most people didn’t want to screw up, and everybody feared something...
Rheo sipped her water, and looked at majestic Mount Hood, pushing its way into the blue sky. She couldn’t imagine climbing it, but Fletch conquered mountains double, nearly triple its height. He’d summited Everest, despite experiencing the avalanche the year before. The avalanche was the closest he had come to dying, and she absolutely understood his reluctance to go back to Nepal. Yet he’d done it. He faced his fear, looked it in the eye, and returned the following summer.
He’d kicked fear’s ass.
Rheo tossed the chicken, still thinking. She wished she could be more like him, be someone who looked fear in the eye and stared it down.
He acknowledged it, but didn’t let it affect his decisions. If he did, he would not have accomplished half the things he had, nor seen so many wild places. Did he find fear easier to handle because he’d been so sick as a teenager? Was the possibility of going back to physical weakness a far scarier prospect than falling off a mountain or walking into an impenetrable jungle with all its hidden dangers? To someone who took big bites out of life like Fletch did, she imagined it would be.
She’d looked up the mud race online and rolled her eyes at the “suitable for seniors and children under the age of twelve” description. Fletch believed completing the race would give her confidence, but Rheo didn’t see how trying would make her look anything but stupid. She understood her strengths, and physical exercise wasn’t one of them. She was uncoordinated and graceless, and the last time she ran, she’d prayed for a defibrillator and oxygen tank.
Plus, if she won—not a possibility—it would be winning against old people and kids. Not a glorious achievement. If she finished near the back—highly possible—she would feel even worse. There was no upside to Fletch’s suggestion...
She didn’t want anything to do with the race. Rheo blew air into her cheeks. Compared to his extreme exploits, taking part in a mud race seemed so trivial. Yet, she categorically didn’t want to. She didn’t want to look foolish, to be forced to give up, to feel out of her depth.
She didn’t want to feel out of control. She hated feeling like that. And she did not like to fail.
Failure, lack of control, and looking bad were some reasons why she’d yet to tell Paddy where she was and what happened. She feared Paddy’s disappointment, just like Fletch had feared going back to Base Camp.
Shame washed over her. How could she compare her fear of disappointing Paddy to Fletch’s avalanche? Her grandmother was a five-foot-two flesh-and-blood person, albeit one with a domineering streak. She wasn’t a treacherous ice floe, a dangerous mountain, or a rock fall. Rheo had reached a new depth of ridiculousness.
And why was she waiting? There wouldn’t ever be a good time to tell Paddy, and the situation would deteriorate the longer she left it. She needed to bite the bullet and get it done...
But before she told Paddy, she needed to tell her folks.
Carrie hadn’t thought it such a big deal, and there was a fair chance her parents would have an equally laid-back attitude. As long as they didn’t make any snide comments about karma, she’d be okay. Though, to be honest, it wasn’t like she didn’t deserve to be mocked a little. She’d been disgustingly arrogant and judgmental in the past. She wouldn’t blame them if they couldn’t resist a few jibes.
Rheo tossed the chicken again, drained a can of beans, and shucked the corn. When there was nothing left to do, she video-called her mom, hoping they were climbing a mountain or digging a well and couldn’t answer. But luck wasn’t on her side and her mom’s face appeared on her phone. Rheo winced at her parched skin and deepening wrinkles. She routinely bought her mom expensive moisturizers, but she was pretty sure her mom never used them.
“Rheo, how lovely to see your beautiful face,” her mom told her, placing her hand on her heart. “You’re looking casual, darling. Are you having a day off?”
“Is Dad around, Mom?” Rheo asked.
Her mom yelled for her father, and Rheo winced, placing her free hand over her ear. Her dad popped his head around the van door, and when he saw her on the screen, his face split into a broad smile. Her father drove her nuts, but he loved her. He might like and understand Carrie better, but he did love Rheo.
And today, that was enough.
After catching up for a few minutes, Rheo turned her phone around so they could see her location. “I’m staying here, at the Pink House. I’ve been here for four—no, nearly five months.”
They exchanged looks and neither seemed too surprised. “We thought something was wrong,” Gail stated, sounding subdued. “We suspected you might’ve quit your job, but we didn’t think you’d be in Gilmartin.”
“Why did you think I lost my job?” she demanded.
“We saw the viral video of the UN hot-mic incident,” her dad explained. “We immediately recognized your voice.”
Oh crap. Her face flamed with humiliation. “You recognized my voice? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Her father’s expression turned sheepish. “At the time, we hadn’t heard from you in a while. You weren’t answering our calls. We went online to see what was happening at the UN, wanting, I guess, to connect with you. It popped up then. We assumed you’d tell us about it when you were ready.”
The damn internet. Rheo rubbed her temple. “I’m sorry. I should’ve returned your calls.”
“We presumed your grandmother was still complaining about that stupid will business and you took her side.”
“You shouldn’t have—” No, she wasn’t going there; it wasn’t her fight. It was Paddy and their issue. She no longer needed to be part of it. She stopped talking and gripped the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t think you’d seen the viral video,” she quietly said.
“Well, we did. And we thoroughly agreed with what you said!” Gail announced. “We are so proud of you for standing up for what you believe in!”
All good and well, but she should’ve switched her mic off and kept her mouth shut. If not for Nicole, she might’ve lost her job over the incident, as she told her parents.
“If you lose your job, something else will come along,” Ed told her.
“I haven’t lost my job,” Rheo said, trying to hold on to her patience. “I’ve just been on a six-month sabbatical.”
They both looked disappointed. “Ah, pity ,” her mom murmured.
Rheo straightened, all-too-familiar irritation shooting through her. “Adults need jobs, you know,” she said. “I have to pay for my apartment and my food, build my savings. Help you guys out of a jam occasionally.” Okay, the last jab was unnecessary, but their easy acceptance of her misfortune shocked her.
“We’d just prefer you to have more balance in your life,” her dad said, his voice calm. “You don’t seem to have much fun, darling.”
She had fun. She did . She just couldn’t think of an example right now.
Knowing she was on shaky ground, she changed the subject. “Anyway, I’m staying at the Pink House, but Paddy doesn’t know.”
Her dad rubbed his hands together, his eyes dancing with glee. “Excellent. Your news will take the heat off me.”
Rheo rolled her eyes at her father. “Thanks for the support, Dad.”
“Doesn’t the Pink House have a tenant?” her mom asked.
“Mmm-hmm. We’re sharing the place.” Her parents didn’t need to know she and Fletch were also sharing a bed. “Fletch is an old friend of Carrie’s.”
Her mom nodded. “She’s spoken of him before.”
Naturally. Fletch was an impressive guy. “So, have you enjoyed your time away from the city, Rheo?” her dad asked, draping a hand around her mom’s shoulder.
She started to say no, then hesitated. She was enjoying herself lately. Fletch’s arrival made her world lighter and brighter. Apart from having a stunning sex life, they walked every day, and she’d come to enjoy being outside for a little while, sucking in the fresh air and the views, feeling her muscles stretching. They’d attended a few trivia and live music nights at Diego’s bar, often ate at Abi’s diner, and they’d spent many days on the lake, with her lying in the sun and paddling while Fletch SUP-ed or kayaked.
“It’s been fine,” she admitted. “Nice, actually.”
“We’re glad,” her mom replied, and Rheo saw love in her eyes.
They might not be alike or understand each other, but she was loved . It wasn’t their fault, nor was it hers, that they were so different.
“We would do anything for you, Rheo,” her dad murmured. “If we could, we would.”
She wished she’d had that reassurance when she was a child. Back then, she was always trying to catch up, running behind them while they strode on ahead, free and fearless.
She’d been the wrong child for them, they’d been the wrong parents for her...but it was okay. Maybe it was time to accept her childhood was over, time she moved on.
Rheo heard Fletch’s Land Rover pull into its space next to the house. “Um...so, about Paddy. Please don’t tell her I’m staying here?”
“I’m not talking to my mother, Rheo. Her choice, not mine,” Ed said, his tone cold.
Rheo put her chin in her hand and looked at her dad. In his eyes, the same color as hers, she saw misery, defiance, and a lot of determination. Deciding to ask him the question she’d constantly avoided for the past year, she took a deep breath. “Dad, did you ask to see her will? Did you ask what you’d inherit?”
He didn’t drop his eyes, nor did his eyes slide to the right or left. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you are worried about what you are going to do and where you are going to live when you get old? Because you wonder how you are going manage when you have to stop traveling because you are too old or sick?”
“No, I didn’t ask to see her will. A friend of ours passed without one and it was a nightmare for his relatives, so I only asked if she had one.”
Rheo believed him. He’d messed up a thousand times before in a thousand different ways, but this time, he spoke the truth.
He lifted his chin, obviously waiting for her criticism. He was expecting her to take a couple of potshots. What did it say about her that her father was expecting a lecture? Nothing good.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t ask for your side of the story, Dad. That was wrong of me.” She knew what he needed from her, so she gave him the only thing she could. “I believe you, Dad.”
Ed closed his eyes, then he straightened, and Rheo caught the sheen of tears in his eyes. Knowing he needed a minute—her tough father didn’t cry—she looked at her mom.
Gail cleared her throat. “Don’t tie yourself in knots about telling Paddy, Rheo. Your actions have no impact on her life,” Gail said, sounding crisp.
“What do you mean?” Rheo asked, hearing Fletch opening the kitchen door. She smiled at him before turning her attention back to her mom. Whenever he walked into the room, his steady presence calmed her, it was as if her body knew that when he was around, all was well.
“You don’t rely on her to pay your rent or your expenses, so she can’t comment. It’s your life, Rheo, not hers. Well, she shouldn’t comment, but you know she will.”
Rheo nodded. “I do.”
Gail was right: it was her career, her life, and while she wasn’t proud of letting everything fall apart, Paddy’s life wasn’t impacted by her failures.
Fletch held up a beer bottle for her, silently asking whether she wanted one. God, yes , this conversation required alcohol. She loved his thoughtfulness, and when this conversation was done, she’d step into his arms, lay her cheek on his chest and breathe in his scent. He was her emotional sanctuary and she ignored how the thought scared the shit out of her. She took the bottle, sipped, and lifted it in a silent toast to her parents.
“Now, as for you staying in Paddy’s house without her permission,” Gail told her, wincing, “I’m afraid you don’t have a leg to stand on there. She’s got a right to be annoyed about that.”
The phone jiggled as Gail panned across the inside of the van, stopping on an ugly, dark brown pottery vase sitting on a high shelf, held in place with a bungee cord. “When she kills you, we’ll put your ashes in a pretty vase and stash you next to Grandma Jean.”
In a jar, on the road, with her parents. For eternity. Awesome.
The next day, Fletch was halfway out the door for a run when he heard the study door open. Pausing the fitness app on his phone, he stepped back into the hallway as Rheo walked out of the study.
Her face dropped as she took in his running gear. “Oh, you’re going for a run,” she said, sounding disappointed.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Make me a better offer and I’ll gladly change my plans.”
If she led him up to her bedroom—the room she’d allocated him to use the first day they met was now just a storage place for his stuff—it wouldn’t be the first afternoon they’d spent in bed.
And every night, when she slid into bed beside him, warm, rosy, and lily-scented from her shower, he wanted her again. He couldn’t imagine not wanting her.
A slightly terrifying thought for a Tuesday afternoon.
She wrinkled her nose in a way he found adorable. He also enjoyed her cloudy-with-sleep-eyes, her hum when she took her first sip of coffee in the morning, the way she always knew how far to take a conversation before it became too personal or awkward. The way she responded to him, with eagerness and trust...
She picked up her bare right foot and rubbed it behind her calf. “As much fun as that would be, do you think we could go for a walk? I need some fresh air.”
They’d been walking regularly since he first dragged her out on the trail, but it pleased him that it was Rheo who made the suggestion. Seeing that she looked tired, and her frown suggested a headache, he resisted the urge to tease her, to check her forehead to see if she had a temperature because voluntarily asking to go for a walk wasn’t something Rheo usually did.
“Sure, I’ll walk with you.”
It would mean giving up his run, but he was good with that. He could do some sit-ups and pull-ups later or do a quick HIIT workout. Being outside with her, ambling along at her slow-ass pace, was quickly becoming his second favorite Rheo-based activity.
Rheo flashed him one of those smiles that knocked the wind out of his sails. “Oh, and I just received a message from Carrie, saying she should be here next week sometime.”
“I got the same message. I offered to collect her from the airport, but she said she already had a lift to Gilmartin.”
“I hope she arrives before I leave. I haven’t seen her for ages, and it would be good to catch up.”
He was glad she and her cousin were talking again. He was not happy with the idea of her leaving. Rheo gestured to the stairs. “I’m just going to run up to change into my sneakers.”
He sat on the bottom stair and exited his exercise app. Looking around the hall, he smiled at Paddy’s photo. “I think I might be in trouble, Paddy.”
He really liked Rheo. As in like liked. And God, didn’t he sound like a teenager? Sure, these past few weeks spent with Rheo hadn’t been adrenaline-fueled, but they’d still been exciting, in a low-key but equally thrilling way.
His body might’ve been resting, but his heart felt like it was consistently throwing itself off a cliff. The sex they shared was intense, their conversations intellectually challenging, their silences easy.
He’d always been wary of emotional closeness, but sharing space with her seemed as natural as breathing. He could no longer avoid the obvious...he was wading through the shallow waters of a fling into the deep waters of a relationship.
And that was unacceptable, impossible. Being in a relationship could hinder his freedom to explore the world. And let’s not forget that if he didn’t stay on the shore, in the inch-deep water, he’d experience the hurt and disappointment of losing someone he’d come to enjoy and rely on. And that would be seriously shitty.
Awa’ an bile yer heid.
His nan’s favorite saying popped into his head. He had no idea how telling someone to “boil their head” translated to overreacting or making a needless fuss. But the Scottish message resonated; he might be making too much of nothing.
He would just have to be sensible and try to stay in the shallows.
A few days later, in Portland, Fletch rolled off Seb’s examination table, walked over to the visitor’s chair, and dropped into the seat, stretching out his long legs. He watched Seb write in his file, his handwriting an indecipherable scrawl.
Fletch had driven into Portland earlier, stopping to check on his tiny house before meeting up with Seb. In the small space, he’d felt hemmed in, so he flung the back door open and sat on the step, enjoying the early-morning sun on his face.
This was the first time he’d been properly alone in weeks. Oh, he and Rheo weren’t joined at the hip, but he always knew where she was, whether that was in her study gabbling away in Spanish, French, or Italian, visiting with Abi or in the garden tugging up Paddy’s flowers.
Conversation with Rheo came easily, their silences were never awkward, and she knew more about him, and his past, than ninety-nine percent of the people in his life. They’d been living together in the Pink House for over a month now, and he’d yet to feel the urge to pack up and move on. He was still waiting for the familiar feelings of irritation and being cooped up to arrive.
Was it possible his stone had stopped rolling? God, what a thought.
Seb looked up, closed the file, and leaned back in his chair. “Your checkup is over, you can breathe.”
“Everything good?’ Fletch asked, loathing his need for reassurance.
“Your bloodwork is fine.”
That was good to hear. Fletcher leaned forward. “So, I want to do a twelve-mile obstacle course in a couple of weeks. I was just going to do it without telling you, but I thought you deserved better.”
Seb sat back, folded his hands on top of the file, and nodded. “I do.”
“So, do I have your permission to do the run?”
“Even if I gave it, you would do whatever you wanted to,” Seb said, an annoying smirk on his face.
Strangling the dude was an option. Fletch scowled at him, thinking his comment didn’t deserve a response.
Seb tapped his file with his index finger, taking his time. “We’ve always operated on a ‘see how your body feels’ basis, Fletch. You know how you feel. Do you feel fit enough to do this race?”
He did. He wasn’t at his fittest, and he would need to do some serious training before he undertook another expedition, but he was relaxed, healthy, and energetic. “I do. It won’t be hard, and it’s not something I’m feeling competitive about or taking that seriously.”
Yeah, he was self-reliant and independent, but Seb was one of the few people whose advice he’d listen to. He was slowly learning to open up and lean on other people, just a little.
“CFS is a tiny bastard that sits on my shoulder, taunting me about coming back. It’s my biggest fear.”
Seb’s eyes didn’t leave his. “I can’t promise you that it will never return, but I can say you’ve been through a lot—pneumonia, malaria, frostbite, that damned scorpion sting in Zimbabwe. None of those triggered its return, but it’s only been four weeks, and I’d like you to take it easy for a while longer, at least another month if you won’t take the full three I recommended.”
“I am fine, Seb. I’m not expedition fit, but a twelve-mile run won’t cause me any issues.”
“Unlike the forty-mile trail run you passed on a few weeks back,” Seb murmured.
He knew he’d hear about it.
Seb lifted one shoulder. “You’ve picked up the weight you lost, and your vitamin levels are back to normal. Look, I have no medical grounds for asking you to delay the resumption of your training schedule. You’re well rested, and you look a lot brighter than you did the last time I saw you. Do the race, Fletch, if that’s what you want to do. I’d still like you to take it easy for another month, to only exercise enough to keep up your fitness levels, and to take more than your usual rest days.”
Fletch thought his suggestion more than fair. He needed time out to get his head straight, to give his body more time to recover. “You were right,” he told Seb, who grinned. “Don’t get used to hearing that.”
“So, what’s the plan? Do you still want to visit the Danakil Depression?”
He didn’t know how to answer that.
He now had Rheo in his life, and that was more heat than he could currently handle. He had decisions to make, one of which was how to reconcile his desire for freedom and his growing feelings for a woman who craved stability.
Chasing the horizon was something he knew how to do. The world was vast, and he still wanted to see every corner of it and experience everything it had to offer. But now there was Rheo...
Shit, what was he supposed to do about her?
It was far easier to think and talk about his career.
“I’m not sure what to do,” he told Seb after explaining the offer he’d received to do the shorter but still brutal scientific expeditions. “It’s three to four months in very inhospitable places. Or I could give it a miss and go back to doing long-ass expeditions, sticking to my brand.”
Seb played with his pen. “If not Danakil, do you have something in mind?”
“Maybe something along the lines of conquering the ten highest mountains, putting a deadline on it so that we race the clock?” Fletch tried to ignore the lack of enthusiasm in his voice. “Or we could explore North Africa, cross some deserts.”
Seb grimaced. “I’m not a fan of dust and heat.”
Neither was he, to be fair. But you couldn’t avoid the places you didn’t like if you wanted to explore every inch of the planet.
“Nims Parja climbed the fourteen highest peaks in six months, so your expedition might be anticlimactic.”
“Nims is unbelievable. Part machine, part mountain goat,” Fletch replied. “He’s a specialist climber. I’m not.”
“I’m voting for the Lazarus expeditions. It might be interesting to do something different, and I know the crew would enjoy shorter stints away.”
“Mmm-hmm, Gavin told me told me his new wife wants him home more often than not.” Fletch didn’t want to lose Gavin—he was a great cameraman and one of the few who could keep up with him.
“Damned wives,” Seb said, smiling. “How rude to expect their husbands to spend time at home. Luckily, I’m divorced and the rest of us are single.”
Fletch thought about Rheo, hating the thought of spending the best part of a year away from her. Sure, he had a sat phone and could occasionally video-call, but not being able to hold her, see her smile, hear her laughter—make love to her—for months on end wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate.
Dammit, how and why had his brief affair turned into something more, something deeper, and...well, necessary ?
He couldn’t, for one minute, imagine giving up his work—it meant everything to him—but he didn’t want to be apart from Rheo for long stretches either.
He wanted to come home to Rheo.
Shit, this wasn’t part of the plan...
Seb’s office manager popped her head around the door and asked Seb if he could take a call, and Fletch waved him on. He needed a couple of minutes alone to get his wayward thoughts under control. What the hell was he thinking?
Was he thinking?
Seb’s call was short, and within a few minutes he was back. “Where were we? Oh, talking about relationships.”
Yeah...
“Our careers are hell on the people we love, aren’t they?” Fletch quietly asked, leaning forward and linking his hands between his legs.
Seb had gotten divorced eight years ago, partly because he spent months in the jungle or on ice with Fletch, partly because his wife couldn’t cope with the loneliness and cheated on him with his best friend.
Seb nodded, his expression somber. “We’ve watched more than a few relationships fall apart because of what we do, who we are. We can’t be at home, they can’t cope with us not being home, and it all gets messy.”
Fletch hated being confined more than most. His crew didn’t have the same issues around staying in one place as he did. They loved the freedom, loved the challenges, loved what they did, but his need not to be confined was more of a compulsion than a desire to see what was around the next corner.
He had to be able to leave, and what woman would tolerate him routinely walking out the door? It was why he avoided relationships, why he skimmed through life, not allowing his emotions to attend the party.
And wasn’t it funny that the one woman who’d tempted him was the last woman he should have fallen for, someone who craved stability more than Buddhist monks craved enlightenment? He and Rheo were so different, poles apart in every way. He loved the outdoors, and while she didn’t hate it anymore, she wasn’t ever going to be a “ let’s go hiking and camping ” type. She craved stability and security; he thought they were vastly overrated. She was into languages and literature; he read biographies and books on travel expeditions. He needed to see what he could find around the next corner. She didn’t.
But she made him laugh and she made him think. And God, she made him burn. Rheo could walk into a room and a million tiny fireworks exploded in his stomach, while at the same time, his heart sighed and settled, at ease and happy. She was the person he most wanted to spend time with...
But it would never work, not in the long term.
If they wanted more than this step out of time, this hot affair, then one of them would have to make enormous compromises for them to be together. He would have to try and fit into her nine-to-five world, and it would kill him. Or she could give up a job she loved and travel with him to far-flung places, hanging around in strange towns, waiting for him to walk off a mountain or out of a jungle. That wasn’t Rheo. She liked her job. She liked having a base, a home.
He didn’t think they could work. How would they build a life, have a family, or grow old together? Resentment would eventually kill any love and affection. He wasn’t in love with Rheo—he was damn close, but he refused to fall. Why take the path that ended in pain? He didn’t want to experience the anguish of heartbreak, but he especially didn’t want Rheo to be miserable. She’d experienced enough emotional agony at the hands of her family.
No, it would be better to put some distance between them, to cool things down. He wanted to be a great memory—he didn’t want to be a source of pain. Besides, she practically had one foot out the door anyway. In ten days, she’d return to Brooklyn.
It made sense for him to spend a few more days in Portland, on his own, and when he returned to Gilmartin, Carrie would be there. He and Carrie would go on some overnight hikes, do the Little White Salmon run, and spend time out of the house. He could, by degrees, ease out of Rheo’s life, and hopefully, disengaging wouldn’t hurt too much.
He was bullshitting himself. Of course it would hurt, but as long as Rheo remained unscathed, he’d cope. Maybe. Hopefully.
Seb coughed and Fletch lifted his head. “You’ve met someone, haven’t you, Fletch?”
What was the point of denying it? “Yeah.”
“Fuck.” Seb released a long sigh.
“It’s a complication and I need to pull back.” Fletch raked his hand through his hair. “I’m going to distance myself before we get hurt. When I get back to Gilmartin, I’ll sign up for some hikes, some soloing and kayaking, things to get me out of the house. She’s not into any of that shit.”
Seb placed his hands behind him. “Do you want some company?”
God, yes . Fletch gestured to his messy desk. “Can you take time away?”
Seb worked as a specialist expedition doctor and only worked with individuals who put their bodies under extreme duress. He didn’t have a heavy book of appointments, but when he did consult, he charged a fortune. “I can take a couple of weeks. I’ll have to find somewhere to stay.”
“Stay at the Pink House,” Fletch told him. “I’m renting it and there are lots of bedrooms.”
“Excellent,” Seb replied.
As they made additional plans, doubt rolled over Fletch, cold and relentless. It was the right thing to do—there wasn’t a hope for him and Rheo working long-term. He was trying to protect her, protect himself.
It was the right thing to do.
Wasn’t it?
But it wasn’t like he had a long list of choices. Or any at all.