Chapter 23 Avah
AVAH
Gravel crunches under our tires as we pull into the NorthStar caregiver camp just after noon on Friday.
Small cabins with green tin roofs nestle between thick clumps of lodgepole pines and aspens, their green leaves quivering even when there’s no discernible breeze.
Jeremy parks his Range Rover in a spot next to a minivan with a stick-figure family decal across the back window.
He stares at that decal like it just flipped him the bird.
I watch with growing amusement as his gaze drifts from the postage-stamp sized cabins to the main lodge, which is a sprawling if slightly shabby A-frame structure with a wraparound porch and window boxes full of geraniums that have seen better days.
“This is...” His tone holds an edge of disbelief. “Rustic.”
“Adorable,” I counter.
“Ramshackle?”
I give his arm a gentle nudge before opening the car door. “It’s perfect.”
“I think the lodge’s porch railing is being held together with zip ties.”
“This camp has character.”
“Seriously, Avah. We know they rent the location. I could help them buy land to build a permanent facility. If the Johnsons let me partner—”
“Patience, young grasshopper,” I tell him with a smirk then climb out and grab my weekend bag from the backseat.
Jeremy’s got his own duffel slung over one shoulder and is looking around the property like the network of woodchip paths between cabins is edged with dog turds instead of old railroad ties.
“Don’t be a snob.”
His gaze cuts to me. “I’m not a snob. I’m practical.”
“Believe it or not, a building with your name on it isn’t the answer to every question.” I keep my voice gentle because I know the impulse comes from a good place.
“There are no buildings with my name on them,” he protests.
“How about oncology fellowships and cancer centers?”
“They insisted,” he mutters.
“Sure they did,” I agree, my tone only mildly patronizing. His eyes narrow, but he can’t quite hide the way his lips twitch.
I take his hand and squeeze. “Instead of deciding for them, you need to spend the next two days listening and learning what the Johnsons and the NorthStar community actually need. That’s how you make a real difference.”
He holds my eyes for a beat, and I brace for the pushback. Jeremy does not enjoy being told he’s wrong. It’s one of his less endearing qualities, although I still find it oddly adorable. And I really like telling him he’s wrong.
“You’re right.”
I blink.
“Do you ever get tired of being right when you boss me around?”
“Nope.”
He flashes a smile that is one-hundred percent boyish charm, and my chest clenches hard enough to steal my breath.
The truth is, every time he allows me to have control without making me pay for it later in some small cruel way, I fall a little further into an emotional nosedive I have no idea how to pull out of. Not that I’d want to even if I could.
Obviously, it’s too soon for how hard I’ve caught feelings for this man. The smart move is to keep both feet on solid ground and stop letting my heart make decisions my brain knows are ridiculous.
My heart could give a rip.
“Avah? Jeremy?” Mariel Johnson walks toward us from the lodge porch with a wide smile.
She’s wearing a NorthStar Way T-shirt tucked into wide leg jeans with well-worn hiking boots.
Behind her trails a young blonde woman carrying a clipboard against her chest. She’s in her mid-twenties, with a French braid to the middle of her back and a Patagonia vest over a NorthStar polo.
“Welcome to caregiver camp.” Mariel pulls me into another one of her patented warm hugs, which still catches me off guard, then extends a hand to Jeremy. “We’re so glad you’re here. This is Annie Marts, my assistant. She’ll be your go-to for anything you need this weekend.”
Annie is polite as she shakes my hand, but her smile widens and her eyes brighten when she turns to Jeremy.
Did she just hold his grip three seconds too long?
Of course she did. He’s handsome as sin, an irresistible combination of broad-shouldered billionaire and awkward tech geek.
His dark eyes manage to look both intense and somewhat bewildered as he pulls his hand back and tucks it into the front pocket of his jeans.
I’m sure he doesn’t realize it, but the return smile he gives her could seriously decimate the already struggling polar ice caps.
A sharp spike of jealousy shoots through my stomach even though I don’t get to feel possessive about a man I’m possibly pretending to date for money I refuse to take.
Suddenly, he shifts closer to me, his hand settling against the small of my back. He doesn’t make it seem like a big deal. His attention remains on Mariel as he asks about the schedule for the evening, and he nods at something Annie says about the welcome packets. But his hand stays put.
If I were smart, I’d step away and create the distance that keeps this arrangement in its lane. I lean into his palm instead.
“Let’s get you settled.” Mariel and Annie turn toward a narrow path winding through the trees.
The cabin is tucked behind a cluster of aspens whose white bark catches the afternoon light.
It’s one room with a queen bed covered in a patchwork quilt, a nightstand with a lamp that has a pull chain, and a kitchenette along the back wall with an ancient microwave, a mini fridge, and a coffee maker that looks like it predates indoor plumbing.
We’ve been assigned a cabin with one bed.
I set my duffel on the floor and keep my face neutral. Mariel isn’t looking at me like she thinks I’m an opportunist who traded one successful man for a wealthier model. But I know what people assume about women like me. The phrase gold digger sits in my belly like a stone.
Annie hands Jeremy a printed itinerary. “The kickoff meeting is in an hour. Dinner after that, and then a sing-along around the bonfire.”
“With s’mores?” Jeremy asks hopefully.
The three of us stare at him with what I’d guess are identical looks of disbelief. Even he looks surprised by his own enthusiasm, and I wonder if he’s ever uttered the word s’mores in his life.
“With jumbo marshmallows,” Mariel confirms, and the way she matches his exuberance makes me like her even more. “We take our s’mores very seriously around here.”
A pine-scented breeze drifts through the screen door after she and Annie leave. I hear birds and the faint sound of voices in the distance—other guests settling in no doubt—as Jeremy examines the small space like we’ve just docked at the International Space Station.
“Did you ever go to summer camp?”
He stops pacing. “No. Sometimes Mom and Dad dragged Sloane and me along to dig sites in Morocco or Peru. The other archaeologists were nice enough, but their parenting style was pretty much entertain yourselves while we catalog pottery shards, and try not to touch anything important or die. In that order.” He sets the itinerary on the nightstand. “You?”
“Piney Lake Camp in the Adirondacks. Very exclusive, and full of the kids whose parents my dad wanted to schmooze.”
“Do you have good memories?”
A smirk tugs at my mouth before spreading into a full-on grin. “I fucking ran that camp. Won every ribbon they gave out. Archery, swimming, the talent show. I organized a rebellion against the counselors the year they tried to cancel our end-of-summer hoedown.”
He laughs and steps close enough that I can smell the soap on his skin and feel the warmth radiating off his chest. He leans in and my breath catches, but his lips land on my cheek instead of my mouth. It’s a kiss that makes me feel like he’s content with just that. Wish I could say the same.
“I’m sure you did.” He gestures toward the itinerary. “Prepare yourself to be disappointed in a major way tomorrow. They have us paired for the games, and I’ve never won any sort of athletic competition in my life. You’re saddled with dead weight, sweetheart.”
I shake my head. “Well, you were willing to be shark bait in Bora Bora, so I assume if a bear or mountain lion comes at me, you’ll throw yourself in their path.”
“I’ll take down anything or anyone who comes after you.”
He says it without humor, his eyes holding mine without a trace of bravado. How am I supposed to stop myself falling for a man who acts like protecting me is his mission in life?
I can’t. Not when I’m totally, irreversibly over the moon for him. He’s nearly always awkward, generous without fail, and infuriating to no end. But he just volunteered to fight a bear for me like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
It’s too soon, the voice in my head whispers. Jeremy isn’t like Jon, but I’m not sure I know how to do this without getting wrecked. And it would be the kind of wreckage that concealer can’t hide.
Why doesn’t that change a single thing I feel?
If I stand here looking at him for one more second, I’m going to say words I can’t take back. So I go for a full-on distraction, stepping toward the bed and gesturing at it with a sweep of my arm. “I guess we should christen this thing.”
I grab the hem of my T-shirt and start pulling it up. Sex is a territory I understand how to navigate, where the stakes are physical. If I make this about our bodies, maybe I can stop my heart’s complete freefall.
Only Jeremy catches my hand and tugs my shirt back down. “Let’s go for a walk around the lake.”
“You’re turning down sex to take a nature walk?”
“I am.”
I pretend blood isn’t pounding through my head in dizzying confusion. “Should I be concerned about your ability to perform? Because the altitude can affect—”
“Avah.” The sound of my name in that rumbly register affects me at a soul-deep level.
“I’ll remind you of that statement tonight when my mouth is on you but you have to stay silent because the walls in this cabin are about as thick as a paper towel.
” He holds my gaze until shivers erupt all the way down my spine.
“But right now, I just want to walk with you. Is that a problem?”
The idea that a man might choose my company over my body feels so foreign that my throat tightens.
“No.” I shake my head. “No problem at all.”
He opens the screen door and holds it while I step through.
The trail we take curves behind the lodge toward the water, and Jeremy stays close enough that his arm brushes mine, like he really would take on a wild animal—or anything—to protect me.
The lake isn’t huge, but it fits this camp.
There’s no one else out here for the moment, and it feels like we’re back in that magical island bubble.
Our footsteps are almost silent on the path of dirt and pine needles. A family of ducks skids across the lake’s surface, and somewhere in the trees a woodpecker hammers at the bark.
We don’t talk at first, but it’s a comfortable sort of quiet.
Jeremy tips his head back to look at the canopy of pine branches above us, and I love this version of him.
He can act like he’s put off by the age and condition of the facilities all he wants.
But I see the boy who never got to be a kid—or even go to summer camp.
That boy grew into a man who built walls along with his empire because he didn’t know how else to keep himself safe.
The fierceness of how much I want him to experience joy should scare me. I’m giving him access to the part of me I swore I’d never hand over again. I want to believe he’s different. I’m different. That together we’re something more.
Yeah, I’m scared to death right now.
“Thank you for coming with me,” he says.
I nudge his arm with my elbow. “Someone has to keep you from talking shit about the camp facilities at the kickoff meeting.”
“I’m not that much of an idiot.” He nudges me back. “But good reminder.”
We reach the dock and walk to the end, where two faded Adirondack chairs sit overlooking the water. I drop into one and he takes the other, and we watch the late afternoon sun turn the water golden. When he reaches over and laces our fingers together, neither of us says a word.
I tell myself this feeling of being exactly where I’m supposed to be with exactly the right person is silly.
Remind myself that women who rush from one relationship to the next are the ones I swore I’d never become.
That this can’t be anything more than a temporary arrangement.
In the meantime, I hold his hand tighter.