Chapter 17
The ATV is more fun once Nate and I clear the air. We ride around for another thirty minutes before the crew’s Jeeps pull off to the side. A hand, likely Jamie’s, pokes out of the window to gesture for us to follow suit.
The crew has piled out of their vehicles by the time we pull up behind them and turn off the ATV.
As we climb out, Jamie collects our mic packs and earpieces while the guide announces, “Time for a break! We’ll have a short walk to the waterfall, where there will be lunch and swimming.”
“Alright!” Nate cheers, while the rest of the group smiles. I can’t muster the same enthusiasm. Nate and I are covered in mud, and the afternoon sun has been a scorcher, but a waterfall? Wasn’t the ATV ride enough for one episode? Do we really need another water activity?
Nate senses me stiffen next to him and bumps a shoulder against mine. “What’s up?”
I swallow hard. This isn’t something I want to talk to Nate about, even if we’ve salvaged our somewhat cordial relationship and he’s fake-Brody while we’re in Fiji.
Heck, I don’t want to talk to real-Brody about this.
It’s a secret I’ve carried and dealt with for years—skipping swimming invites, staying out of the water on the rare beach trip, learning to manage pools where I could see the bottom.
Aside from my therapist, Corina to an extent, and those who already know what happened, I never bring it up.
It’s something I need to deal with on my own, not with the rest of the world watching from their favorite streaming giant.
“Nothing,” I lie, getting sweatier by the second.
“Seems like something.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Kind of hard not to,” Nate persists. “We’re stuck together and you’re being weird again.”
“Thanks. Really helpful.”
“Anytime.” Nate slings his bag over his shoulder and starts following the group before turning back to me. Softer, he asks, “Is this about Jamie again? I thought we resolved that.”
“It’s not that.”
“But it’s something?”
I chew the inside of my cheek. What can I say to make Nate understand without saying too much?
“Come on, Gingersnap. You can tell me.”
I can’t, and I can’t explain why. I just shake my head, grab my bag, and walk past him toward the rest of the group.
I feel him follow more than I hear it, sensing his frustrated steps behind me. I wish I could ease his confusion and declare it has nothing to do with him. We are fine, better than fine, we are good again. But I don’t say any of it, so the silence continues after Nate catches up.
In front of us, Dave peppers the guide with questions while Jamie and Corbin chat and shoot B-roll. Occasionally, they pan a camera to Nate and me walking. Even if we were miked, there’s nothing for the cameras to catch unless our current tension is as palpable as it feels.
We continue walking and, while it’s impossible to forget about the looming waterfall, the rainforest is calming my nerves some. Birds caw overhead, animals rustle in the nearby plants, and I even see an iguana.
Okay, Nate wordlessly points out the iguana, but still. I see it. That counts for something.
The massive spider he points out afterwards certainly does not, but it distracts me enough that I don’t realize the trees are thinning, though the canopy is as thick as ever.
I hear the waterfall before I see it. The thundering sound grows louder with each step, drowning out whatever conversations the crew is having until we arrive at a clearing.
In front of us, water crashes through the trees, cascading over a cliff and slicing into an aqua pool with emerald edges.
Moss-covered rocks, more dirt, and vibrant greenery frame the scene.
It’s obscenely gorgeous, but looks can be deceiving. Water can seem inviting. Nate can look like Brody. A kiss can appear to be something more.
Dave whistles at the sight before gesturing for the crew to get to work. They set up tripods, cameras, and a picnic lunch, letting us skip the personal mics.
While they’re busy, I approach the shallows where I can see the bottom. Nate moves closer to the falls, where he strips off his shirt again and tosses it behind him. When he dives into the water wearing only his sponsored hybrid shorts, there’s no doubt Brody is about to have one happy sponsor.
Assuming Nate doesn’t drown. While he’s under, I don’t breathe—just shift closer to where I last saw him and wait for seconds or maybe hours.
He resurfaces with a splash, wiping droplets from his eyes.
When he sees me, he grins. Hair that’s fallen loose from his bun is plastered to his face, but he’s breathing. Alive. Happy.
Not to mention cool and clean while I’m grimy.
I sit at the pool’s edge, splashing water onto my legs like some kind of DIY spa treatment.
Instead of cleaning me, the sludge spreads in streaky, unhelpful swirls.
If mud really is good for the skin, I’m about to have a real glow-up.
Great for the future episodes we film, but not so much for this one.
“Are you going to get in?” Nate asks, swimming toward me. “The water’s great.”
My heartbeat quickens at the suggestion. “Good thing you’re not in sales because you are not nailing this pitch.”
Nate rolls his eyes, then his gaze grows more curious. “Do you not know how to swim?”
“I know how to swim,” I say defensively. “I just don’t want to.” It should be enough for Nate to leave me alone for at least a few more minutes, but no luck.
He moves in front of me, his voice low when he speaks again. “Abigail, I don’t know what’s going on, and it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me, but something is happening.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My words don’t even convince me.
“What was going on with jet skiing? What about when we first got to the bungalow, and you…I don’t know, thought I was going to push you in? I would never do that, by the way, but there was something going on then, too. Water seems to be the common factor.”
“There was nothing going on then or now.” I’m not sure what lying to Nate is accomplishing. He knows something’s up and has put enough pieces together for someone who doesn’t have the complete story.
“If you say so.” Nate pushes out into the water, swims a few strokes, and then comes back to me. “Look, you’re coated in mud, and it’s hotter than hell out here. There is no way you don’t want to get in.”
It is beyond hot out, and I’m overheating and sticky and disgusting, sporting a look I don’t want for the rest of the afternoon, let alone the episode when it’s released, but I can’t do it. Can I?
Sensing progress, Nate continues, “The water isn’t all deep, if that’s the issue? It’s shallow by the edges, and I can touch the bottom in places.”
I peer over the edge as if that will help me confirm anything he said.
“What if I were to hold you while you’re in the water?”
There’s no judgement or mocking in his offer. It would almost be surprising if this didn’t already feel like the true him—a man I couldn’t imagine existed when I started this trip.
“You don’t have to get in.” His voice is gentle, but there’s a hint of encouragement too.
He’s shoulder-deep, the water rippling softly around him, and he looks so at ease.
Carefree, as if this is a playground for him and the cameras don’t exist. A mirror of Brody cracked in the best and most unpredictable way.
“I know.” My heart is beating too fast, and it’s not just because of the water.
It’s him. How his expectant yet patient stare makes me want to dive into all sorts of things I normally wouldn’t.
The way his smile works the corner of his mouth, proving he knows the progress he’s made in convincing me to step outside my comfort zone.
How odd, yet right, it is that his physical presence makes me feel safe.
“I’m right here,” he says, the water parting smoothly around him as he moves closer still. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”
Staring at my sneakered feet, there are reasons I should stay right here. Dry. Safe. Muddy, but on solid ground. None of that matters when I look at him again. There’s something in his gaze that makes the fear shrink. I trust him. More than I’ve trusted anyone new in a long time.
His offer is a lifeline, and before I can overthink it, I say, “Okay.”
Nate’s brows shoot up. “Okay?”
I nod before realizing perhaps he hadn’t expected me to agree. “Unless you were kidding or?—”
“No, not kidding. We’re doing this. Come on.” He waves toward a series of flatter rocks to make it easier to get in.
I toe off my sneakers and socks, then hesitate for half a second before shedding my tank top that’s become a second skin of dried mud. Swimming in my sports bra is better than being dragged under by my own poor decisions.
I make my way around the perimeter to meet Nate, my heart racing. After a hard swallow, I step from the first rock to the next one. Then another submerges my feet and ankles in cool water. “I’m only doing this if you don’t let me go.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He reaches toward me, waiting patiently. When the water reaches my knees, I pause.
“Hey.” His voice is soft, reassuring. “It’ll be okay.”
I take his hand, his touch dulling the thorns of my anxiety as I take another step down. With another deep breath, I add a final stipulation.
“I’m only doing this if we don’t talk about it ever again.”
“What about when we’re famous and people make posters of this very moment?” His smile reaches his eyes.
“That’ll be a great conversation to have with your brother.
” It’s unlikely Brody would have come up with this plan, settling for me cheering him on from the sidelines or pulling me in against my will.
More likely, Brody would have kept me hidden off screen with the crew or back in our bungalow, working, waiting, and missing out on everything Fiji offers.
I would have happily let him keep me behind the scenes.
Nate smiles up at me, a reminder that this isn’t Brody.
But it takes longer to realize Nate’s expression isn’t about our banter.
The joking has distracted me from his coaxing, and the water’s cool touch now reaches my bare stomach.
Hot, burning panic rises in my chest as I register the water’s depths.
Nate’s free hand reaches for me, finding my waist. “You can do this,” he says.
I’m hyperaware of his presence, the way his touch heats my left side as he encourages me to take deep breaths. The hand holding mine gives two patient squeezes, reminding me he’s here. He’s got me. My breathing slows until it matches the steady rise and fall of his chest.
I nod when I’m ready again, and he guides me forward until I’m chest-deep in the water.
With a final gentle tug, he pulls me to him—his grip moving to either side of my waist as my arms loop over his shoulders.
His skin is warm, making everything else feel cold as I cling to him and try not to focus on how deep the water is around us.
But then the waterfall’s roar fills my ears, sending my heart rate soaring and my eyes drop to the pool. I can’t see the bottom, but Nate can stand where we are. His head, my arms, and the tops of his shoulders are all out of the water.
I wrap my legs around his waist for better insurance, an instinct that would have been mortifying had Nate’s grip not moved to my thighs. His arms form a sort of bench that boosts me further out of the water.
Still, I need out. I’m about to tell Nate, tightening my arms around his neck as I lean in, but he speaks first.
“Deep breaths, Abigail,” he whispers. “Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I’ve got you. I promise.”
My breathing slows, and the panic dampens.
Nate feels the shift, too. “See? Not so bad, right?”
I let out a shaky laugh in response. He’s right. It’s not so bad like this. Not when he’s here, holding me, keeping me steady. The fear loosens its grip a little more.
After a couple minutes of quiet, Nate gestures toward my face. “You’ve got a little mud…”
I attempt to wipe it away. “Did I get it?”
He shakes his head, smirking. I narrow my eyes at him, then try again.
“Now?”
“Not even close.” He chuckles, then lifts a brow. “Want some help?”
He’s done enough, but I still nod. My legs instinctively tighten around him as he frees a hand. His fingers are cool against my skin as he swipes his thumb twice over my cheek, but it’s the pause—just a beat too long—that sends my head or heart into a tailspin.
“There,” he murmurs, his voice rougher as his hand sinks back into the water. “All better.”
Maybe it is. It’s also confusing, especially given how close our bodies truly are with my legs wrapped around him.
I shift back to put another inch of space between us, but Nate mistakes the movement for renewed panic.
“You’re okay,” he says, pulling me close again. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
My fingers unclench just enough to prove I’m not completely panicking.
My emotions are a tangled mess of fear and excitement as the urge to get out collides with the need to stay.
Somehow Nate’s arms make it feel easier.
Safer—even if Corbin and the rest of the crew are on shore, capturing every shaky breath.
A quick look confirms their cameras are pointed at us.
“Jamie is watching,” I say, searching Nate’s face for a reaction. None comes.
“I told you there’s nothing going on there.”
“Okay, but it’s not like you couldn’t have something with Jamie. If you wanted. If you’re single, I mean. Not that it’s any of my business.”
Nate stifles a laugh.
“What? I’m being understanding!”
“You’re being weirder than usual.” His grip shifts. “Besides, I know what I want. It’s just out of reach.”
He hasn’t said much, but it’s enough to tell he’s talking about Nina. He’s missing her. Regretting their breakup. Wanting her back in his life.
I’m tempted to learn more about this other part of Nate I don’t know, but I want this moment to belong to us for a little while longer.
Even if it’s one we never should have had.