Chapter 14 #2
“You promise you won’t freak out?” she asked, pinning him with a long look. “Seriously.”
Wow. She knew him well. “I can’t make that promise.”
She frowned. “That’s what I thought.”
He swallowed his instinct to argue safety protocols and worst-case scenarios—everything in him trained to spot risk, to shut it down. He didn’t like the way she predicted his reactions. “I’m going to try,” he said, softer. “I want to be on your side.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned and headed for the living room. He followed, immediately disappointed when she sat down at the opposite end of the worn upholstered sofa.
Gary smiled at them, already settled into his recliner, remote in hand. He turned the volume up several clicks. “Here we go!”
As the show opened with a panoramic view of the Copper River, its water cutting a wide swath through the Alaskan wilderness, the now-familiar music swelled—composed, probably on purpose, to hook into the suspense.
Tate felt his adrenaline spike. Already.
The show had barely started, and Scottie’s words had him on edge.
He forced himself to watch the screen, and he kept his expression open. Nonjudgmental. He could smell her shampoo, could feel the faint movement in the cushions when she shifted, but she didn’t look his way.
She kept staring straight ahead at Gary’s flat-screen television mounted on the opposite wall. Oh, how he wanted to hold her hand, to reach for her, to thread his fingers through hers, to cement his belief that that kiss hadn’t been an impulsive move.
The episode cut to a close-up shot—the dull gray river and mist snagging on the dense forest filling the opposite bank. On-screen text introduced the segment: “Day 6: Fatigue Setting In—Salmon Fishing on the Copper River.”
“Oh, this is good,” Gary said, clicking the volume up yet another notch. Tate drew a deep breath, willing his pulse to slow.
Elise, one of the contestants on the show and a fan favorite evidently, stood chest-deep in the river, brown waders up to her armpits, cinched in place with broad orange suspenders. She grinned, breathless, her blonde hair twisted on top of her head in a messy bun, cheeks pink.
“Gonna land the big one today,” she said, her rod trembling in her hands. Over her shoulder, a second camera angle cut in—probably Scottie’s.
“Wind’s picking up,” another contestant, maybe Carter, said off camera. “Glad I put on this fleece pullover.”
“I wish I’d brought mine,” Elise said. “This plaid button-down makes me look Alaskan, but I don’t know that it’s going to keep me warm or dry.”
“Elise, talk us through your footing,” Damian’s voice was crisp, direct.
“I’ve got a good spot here,” Elise said. “It’s a little muddy, and I’m kind of glad I can’t see what’s down there. This current is no joke, by the way.”
Movement on the opposite riverbank caught Tate’s attention. Tree branches swaying. Then a low, deep huff. Scottie kept Elise framed in the shot. A dark, wet, massive shape lumbered out of the woods.
“Bear,” somebody said. “Bear, bear, bear.” Their panic rising.
Tate forgot to breathe. On-screen, the grizzly lifted its head, water dripping from its bronze muzzle. Elise jerked, her line bobbing in the current.
“Hold,” Damian said. “Nobody run. Stay calm. Scottie, keep filming.”
The camera stayed true, because of course it did. Scottie locked in on the bear, then Elise, then back to the bear as it angled toward the river.
“It’s probably fifty yards…forty-five,” Carter said, his voice low.
“Are you kidding me?” Tate said before he could stop himself.
Scottie’s bouncing knee went still.
On the show, somebody’s breathing spiked—Scottie’s or Elise’s—the mic picking up each gasp.
“He sees us. He sees us,” Elise said, glancing at the camera, her eyes wide.
“It’s okay. He’s used to humans,” Damian said. “No big deal. Keep your voices low.”
Elise tried backing away toward the camera and the safety of the opposite riverbank. “Hey, big guy. Sorry to bother you. Just doing a little fishing here.” Her voice trembled.
The bear took four heavy steps, water roiling around its legs. Somewhere off camera, a panicked contestant flung up a prayer. “Please, God, help us.”
Tate dug his hands into his jeans, his mind racing ahead. This was bonkers. Her waders could fill in a second, anchoring her to the river, putting her in danger, putting Scottie in danger. All he could imagine was Scottie staying there, refusing to flinch, because this was her job.
“You should’ve had a spotter on the bank,” he said. “You should’ve?—”
“Shh,” Gary said, eyes still glued to the screen. “They know what they’re doing.”
“Do they?”
Somebody had layered in a voice-over: “Bears are common along the Copper River during the late-summer salmon run.”
“The bear wants the fish, not you,” Damian said. “If he crosses the river?—”
The bear’s low, grating growl could be heard even from twenty yards away.
“No splashing,” Damian said. “Back away slowly. Scottie, widen the shot if you can.”
The camera panned, pulling in the whole scene—four contestants in a staggered line, Elise the closest, the bear headed downstream.
“This is insane,” Tate whispered. Scottie winced.
On-screen, Elise took a backward step and slipped. She windmilled and lost her fishing rod in the river. The bear’s head turned.
“Easy,” Damian warned. “Scottie, stay with Elise.”
The camera swung, catching Elise’s eyes, her face, her expression wild, threaded with fear. Scottie picked up the other contestants scrambling out of the river, fishing rods abandoned. The bear trudged deeper into the water, shoulder muscles rolling, a ridge of wet fur standing up along its spine.
“Good,” Damian said. “He’s going about his business.”
The segment hung on the bear’s movement until it dipped its mouth into the water and came up with a salmon clenched in its massive jaws.
And then the show cut to the confessional.
Elise—damp tendrils of hair curling around her red cheeks—laughed now.
“Oh, my heart was in my throat,” she said, “but Damian tells me we got the shot. Oof! I’m okay,” Elise said.
“Don’t worry, folks. I’m fine. Can’t wait to see what’s next. That was epic.”
Gary exhaled. “Wow, that’ll get the ratings and she’s going to get the votes.”
Tate didn’t realize he’d pushed to his feet.
“You okay?” Scottie asked.
He wanted to tell her so many things, but he was trying to be optimistic and hopeful instead of envisioning worst-case scenarios and how that could have all played out. He turned and glanced at her. She picked at a loose thread in the edge of the cushion’s seam.
“I’m fine,” he said, swallowing hard.
“You don’t look fine.”
He tried to unclench his jaw, tried to see the art behind Scottie’s work—the courage of the contestants, bravely trying something new. But the bear stayed with him.
Then his thoughts pulled to their kiss, how she’d leaned into him, as if maybe he could provide the security and safety she craved.
He wanted to be that safe place for her, but he also wanted to wrap her in Bubble Wrap, take the batteries out of every camera she owned.
The room echoed with Gary’s chuckle. Tate forced himself to smile, trying to be that supportive, open, encouraging guy.
But in his head, he was already rehearsing what he was going to say when he gave Damian a piece of his mind.