Chapter 7
7
I ’d like to schedule a meeting ASAP to get an update on your thesis. And I know you took time off, but I really need you back in the lab.
Sarah stared at the text that had come in from Dr. Osborne, her thesis advisor. It had hit her phone almost as soon as she and Beckett had returned to camp from their scouting trip. She hadn’t actually responded yet because… well, she didn’t know what exactly she was going to say. That left her unsettled. This entire trip was supposed to have given her clarity so she could go back and finish writing the damned thing in time to defend before fall semester. Instead, she’d met a man who had her questioning everything.
“You can see we’ve got some more challenging climbs here.” At the front of the room, Beckett went over the sites they’d scouted with the rest of the climbing staff, marking positions on the topographical map of the area that took up one wall.
From her position in the back, Sarah pulled the memory card from her camera and popped it into her laptop. She’d taken photos of all the sites and wanted to be able to pull them up should he want them. As row after row of RAW files loaded on her screen, she winced. Finding those specific images would be a challenge. There were hundreds of shots here to comb through. Even before their trip into the state park, she’d been carrying her camera everywhere because the area was too gorgeous not to take advantage, and she’d been having so much fun getting to shoot again.
When had she stopped? Certainly, she’d done the same thing during her first few months in New York. But the stress of being in the city, studying, and all the things associated with being a success in an Ivy League master’s program had forced her to set it aside. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. Beckett had helped remind her why she loved it so much, and in doing so, had reawakened that dream she’d dismissed so long ago, of finding a way to do this as a career.
That was a dangerous headspace to be in just now. The change of pace from coming up here was supposed to break the months-long writer’s block so she could move forward. Because moving forward was simply what she did. Always.
For every random job and thing that Taryn tried and bailed on, Sarah had always felt she had to prove she could finish something. As if they were two halves of a whole in the worst possible way. As if she had to balance out her sister’s poor choices and experimentation. As if she had to be perfect at everything.
Finish Master’s. Get PhD. That was the plan. In the beginning, when Sarah had set out on this path, more school had been the obvious conclusion. A doctorate was the penultimate achievement. The challenge of that had excited her. But now?
While she still found the material interesting, the idea of spending the rest of her life with all the data and numbers filled her with dread instead of exhilaration. And that was terrifying. Because what if Beckett was right? What if she wasn’t meant to get this PhD? If she didn’t do that, then what came next?
Well, a job, obviously. But she had no idea what sort of jobs were available with just a Master’s in neurobiology. Chances were they’d include all the things that were no longer exciting to her about the PhD track.
Which meant… what? That she’d wasted all her time on these degrees? That after all her big talk to her sister about the importance of finishing things, that the things she’d finished weren’t actually getting her any closer to a career than the impulsive, somewhat itinerant job-hopping that Taryn had engaged in? The mere idea of it made her queasy and felt like failure in its own right.
Sarah didn’t do failure.
“—will do a group trip for all the staff to make those climbs when we get closer to the Scout Wars session. The participants that week should have a lot more training than the average camper, but I want everybody familiar.”
Plans were being made about the rest of the summer. Plans she wouldn’t be around to see. The clock was ticking, and Sarah was painfully aware that her time at Camp Firefly Falls was drawing short. She was doing the job, following through on all the trainings and other work of orientation. And she had to admit that she’d enjoyed the change of pace. She’d enjoyed everything she’d done up here. It was the first time since she’d left for college that she hadn’t been in active classes doing work toward an academic goal.
If she’d taken any time at all to breathe before now, would she have changed her mind about what she wanted? The notion of it left her uncomfortable. That made it seem as if her whole life was merely a product of momentum and inertia. But wasn’t that how lots of people lived life? They got on a path that became a rut and often didn’t pause to consider whether it was the right one unless something outside themselves forced the issue.
Beckett had been that for her. Because of Taryn, yes, but it was him who was making her question everything. She stopped her scroll of images on a shot of him on the trail, looking supremely at ease and in his element. An element he might not have found if he hadn’t walked out of that MBA program.
You have to leave the bubble sometime.
His words played through her head again. Was it finally time to get out of school and figure her life out? Maybe. As he continued to go over details with the rest of the staff, she found herself wishing there was some way she could stay up here for the summer after Taryn finally arrived. Was there any kind of a job she could get here at this late date?
It hardly mattered if there was. Letting everyone know that there were two of them would undoubtedly expose their subterfuge, and Taryn needed this job. But, God, Sarah wanted the chance. She wanted the time to spend with Beckett. She wanted more time away from her thesis. Which was reckless as hell. She was the responsible twin. The idea that she’d choose a guy over finishing her thesis, finishing her degree, was patently absurd.
What did she gain from that choice?
A lot of really great sex? Yes.
Great conversation? Absolutely.
The chance to find out if he was the one?
The question made her brain grind to a screeching halt and her heart start to pound.
They barely knew each other. And yet she felt closer to Beckett after little more than a week than she did people she’d known for years. She’d felt strongly enough that she’d leapt into bed with him, without regrets.
Was it the lust talking?
No. It was more than that. He interested her. He challenged her. And he was putting himself on the line for her.
No one had ever done that.
Then again, no one had ever needed to.
All she knew for certain was that she needed more time with him. Which was exactly why she wanted the summer. To give them time to find out if this connection between them was the kind that could last.
But she didn’t see how it was possible. Because of the sister who was the whole reason Sarah had even met Beckett. So that she finally stood a chance of crawling out of the hole she’d landed in. Taryn had to come first in this. Which meant in four days she’d be going back to New York.
A band tightened around Sarah’s chest at the thought. But no matter how much it was going to hurt to leave him, she wouldn’t have traded this time for anything in the world. Even if he was making her panic about the plan she’d been perfectly fine with two weeks ago.
Maybe, after all this was over, it was time for her to start making decisions about her life purely for herself instead of running it all through a lens of what it would mean for her sister. In which case, she had a lot she needed to figure out.
The end of everything was coming, and that meant decisions had to be made.
Knowing she had to say something, she toggled over to the text thread with Dr. Osborne and tapped out a reply.
Sarah: I’m so sorry. I’m out of town for the rest of this week. Can we meet when I get back next week?
Before she could change her mind, she sent it.
A meeting would be good. Maybe it would give her some more clarity. Maybe she’d step back into the lab and it would feel like coming home and this whole couple of weeks would be some kind of dream. Or maybe she’d feel it in her bones that this was where she was supposed to stop. She could discuss potential job options with a terminal Master’s degree with Dr. Osborne. Not that the program she was in was a terminal Master’s. The degree was just a checkmark on the way to that PhD. Nobody just stopped there.
But she was considering it.
Already she could imagine the look of profound disappointment on her mentor’s face.
Shoving the thought aside, Sarah looked up at the man she was rapidly falling for and wondered if she’d be brave enough to make a different choice than the one she’d mapped out.
Beckett loved summer storms. To his mind, nothing beat a good thunderstorm for driving people inside and encouraging naps—or other horizontal activities. Not that Sarah was cooperating on either front, just now. She stood at the doorway to his cabin, looking out at the torrential downpour that had granted them an unexpected reprieve from all the hard work of the week. The other staff had mostly holed up at the big lodge for games. Those who hadn’t were ensconced in their own cabins, making the most of their leisure. He knew what he’d rather be doing with his.
“Will you come sit down?”
“Are you sure we can’t head down to the equipment shed? Do some more drills or something? I hate to waste practice time.”
It could never be said that Sarah didn’t take her tutelage seriously. Beckett had never enjoyed teaching someone as much as he’d enjoyed teaching her. She was bright, interested, always attentive. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain about getting to put his hands on her at every available private opportunity—many of which he’d gone out of his way to orchestrate.
“Honey, you’ve conquered Boulder Mountain and passed every demonstration and oral quiz I’ve thrown at you.” She had, in fact, excelled at every single challenge he’d come up with. She was a natural. “You’ve earned a break. C’mere.” Beckett patted the bed beside him.
With one last glance out at the rain, Sarah slipped off her sandals and flopped down on the mattress, frowning.
“That is not the expression of a woman happy to be in my bed.”
Her lip quirked into a half smile as she gave him the side eye. “I’m sorry. I just can’t settle. I’m worried about the certification.”
Beckett stroked a hand down her arm and laced his fingers with hers. “You’re not the one who has to take the test.” It was as much a reminder for himself as for her.
He didn’t want to think about the fact that he’d be spending the summer seeing a woman with her face who wasn’t her. In between all their staff duties and training sessions, they’d talked endlessly about everything under the sun. The intensive one-on-one time had done nothing to dim his interest or diminish his certainty that there was really something here with this woman.
And in less than a week she’d be walking away.
“Yeah, but I’m in it now. I have to finish the training, have to be ready.”
“Just in case?”
On a sigh, she rolled toward him, snuggling against his chest. “Mostly just to prove that I can be.”
“Because everything’s a competition.”
Sarah hummed in agreement and slipped a hand under the edge of his T-shirt, tracing little patterns on his side.
Beckett tightened his arms around her. He couldn’t wrap his head around that worldview. “Does it come from being a twin? This competitive streak? Were you and Taryn always trying to outdo each other growing up?”
“Some. But a lot of times, the competition is with myself.”
He tipped his head down to study her. “What are you trying to prove?”
She considered the question. “I don’t know. When I was younger, I think some of it was to prove that I wasn’t like Taryn. That I could stick things out, finish stuff. Then I guess I got addicted to winning. I like knowing I can push myself to do better, be better.”
“Admirable,” he conceded. “But exhausting, I’d think.”
“Sometimes.”
“I think there’s a place for competition and sticktoitiveness. But it’s not everything. Some things shouldn’t be finished. Fights. Brussels sprouts. Things that don’t make you happy.” Beckett shifted her closer and rolled so she stretched out atop him, pleased when she dropped her knees to either side of his hips. Maybe they’d get to some of those horizontal activities after all.
Sarah folded her hands across his chest and propped her chin on them. “Didn’t it bug you? Walking away from your MBA, when you were so close to done?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “No.”
“Really? I mean, you were that close to done. Why not finish? That was a very expensive lesson. There’s not really any other point in an MBA.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but the debt was already racked up. I was never gonna go into corporate to help pay it off because it just wasn’t gonna make me happy and would have done serious damage to my mental health. Having the degree wasn’t going to do me any good, and I wasn’t racking up additional debt by leaving.”
“But if you’d stayed and finished, you would have at least had the degree in your back pocket, just in case. Because sometimes it’s not about what degree you have. It’s about having degrees. Proving that you can finish things.”
And they were back to this again.
“Sometimes. But that’s totally sunk cost fallacy. That somehow continuing on the wrong path is justified because of the existing investment in time and money. But that doesn’t make it less wrong in the end.” He absently stroked the soft skin of her thighs. “In any case, I don’t think I’d have realized that an MBA and that whole corporate thing wasn’t for me without doing it. So in that sense, it wasn’t a waste. I loved working for the National Park Service.”
Sympathy shone in those big, doe eyes. “I’m sorry things turned out like they did.”
It was harder to feel that way himself when he was here with her. “Eh, it’s a hard job. Harder than most people realize. People think it’s all hiking and climbing and doing fun outdoors stuff. It’s also rescues and being law enforcement and dealing with deaths and drugs and a million other things that happen under the surface, behind the scenes. I was headed toward burning out there, too.” Another three years, maybe five, he’d have been ready to move on.
“So now what?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m here to figure out this summer.” But it had been her occupying his thoughts, instead.
He’d been wracking his brain for days, trying to figure out the best way to convince her that they should pursue this. Hell, he’d even gone so far as to wonder what the hell kind of a job he could get in New York after summer was over. Would being in the concrete jungle for a prolonged period kill him? Would all that be worth enduring for the chance to see where this thing between them could go?
The irony that he was considering making major changes to his life because of a woman wasn’t lost on him. Sarah wasn’t even his girlfriend. She’d made him no promises beyond this week. They were in a situationship, he supposed. Yet he hadn’t felt this much for the woman he’d asked to move across the country with him. So how could he let her just walk away without trying for more?
Sarah sighed, her chest rising and falling against his. “I envy that. Having time to breathe, to think.”
Beckett tucked a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. “You could take the time.” He wanted her to take it. He wanted her to take it here, enough that he was prepared to talk to Michael about hiring her on. But that was getting ahead of things.
“I have a very tight schedule to finish my thesis.” She said it with the ease of a well-rehearsed excuse.
“The thesis for the degree you’re not sure you like, to go on to the PhD you aren’t sure you want.”
Her expression turned mulish, and he knew he’d probably pushed too far. But there was so little time to convince her.
“I’m just saying—that’s a lot of years to invest in something you’re not passionate about.” The idea of it made him shudder. Being trapped like that would kill him. Sarah wasn’t him, but he could see the cost down the road of her stubborn insistence about finishing what she started. “What’s the worst that could happen if you took the time to make sure it’s what you really want?”
“If I don’t roll on into the PhD program this fall, I might not get in. I might miss my chance.”
Was it an epic case of FOMO or fear of the real world?
“Did it ever occur to you that if you took the time and didn’t get in after this, that maybe you’re supposed to do something else?”
“What? Like fate or God intervening?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I just think the universe tends to set us on the right path, if we’re paying attention. But it’s easy to get distracted by other stuff instead of listening.”
“And you’re here to listen this summer.”
“That’s the plan.”
She frowned, clearly flummoxed by the idea. “How do you deal with not knowing what comes next?”
“I’ve learned patience.” Though she was testing it. He’d been listening all week and knew what he thought was next, at least with her. But she wasn’t on the same page. Not yet anyway. And he had limited time to convince her.
“Patience is not my strong suit,” she admitted.
He’d pushed her far enough for one day. “Then how about distraction instead?” He stroked his hands higher up her thighs, beneath the hem of her shorts.
Sarah hummed low in her throat and wiggled in a way that had the blood draining out of his head. “I think I can get behind this kind of distraction. Except for the fact that your roommate could come back at any moment.”
“There’s considerable entertainment to be had without losing a stitch of clothing.” He maybe hadn’t engaged in any of it since college, but he’d take what he could get. Curving his hands around the firm cheeks of her perfect ass, he grinned at her. “How do you feel about baseball?”