Chapter 8
8
“ I know your secret.”
At the sing-song voice, Sarah froze, her mug of coffee halfway to her lips. Panic scorched through the lingering vestiges of sleep, and she fought not to react, not to look toward Beckett for support. With herculean effort, she arched one brow in vague interest and glanced at the speaker.
Diego grinned at her from across the breakfast table, looking like the cat that ate the canary. Did he really think this was a joke? She—and Taryn—were going to get into so much trouble. Damn it. Damn it! She’d known this was a terrible idea. Known there was no way she’d really pull this off. And how the hell did he find out? Had he overheard some conversation with Beckett? They’d been so careful.
On a yawn, as if she couldn’t possibly care less, she cocked her head. “Oh yeah?”
Diego’s smile spread wider. “Taryn and Beckett sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N?—”
Diego’s song ended in a laugh as Beckett hurled a muffin at his head. “Can it, Acosta. What are you, ten?”
“I’m just sayin’, boss man, you two ain’t fooling anybody, making goo-goo eyes at each other when you think nobody’s looking. There’s no prohibition on staff relationships, so I don’t know what the point is of all the lousy attempts at discretion.”
Sarah released a slow, controlled breath. He didn’t know. The secret was still safe. But it brought up another question. If everybody knew she and Beckett were involved… what was he going to do when the real Taryn showed up? The idea that he’d just swap from one of them to the other had her hand clenching around the mug.
Stupid. Beckett wasn’t that kind of guy, and Taryn wouldn’t poach.
Not that they’d actually discussed what the hell they were doing. They’d defined nothing. This week had been all about indulging attraction and flirtation in the moment. She hadn’t wanted to discuss anything else because… she hadn’t come up here for this. This was a break. A moment out of normal time. A situationship. But in forty-eight hours, Taryn would arrive, they’d swap places, and Sarah would go back to real life in Brooklyn. Back to the noise, the traffic, the congestion, and the slow, suffocating horror of the city.
She’d shoved back from the table before she even knew what she was doing.
“Hey!” Diego protested. “I was just kidding around, Taryn. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Holding up a hand to stop whatever else he was going to say, she just shook her head. “No. It’s not… I just… I need to go.” In a dozen long strides, she made it to the door, shoving through with more force than necessary to get out into the clean mountain air. It wasn’t enough to alleviate the pressure in her chest. Turning toward the lake, she broke into a run, needing to put space between herself and this whole charade. To be… herself… for a little while.
Her feet thudded on the dock, echoing the thrumming of her heart as she loped down the length of it, past the boathouse, to the very end jutting far out into Lake Waawaatesi. She stood there, breathing hard, still vibrating with a restless, panicked energy, wondering if she should just dive in and keep swimming. Like she could somehow escape this… dissonance .
Everything had gotten out of hand. This hadn’t just been a job, something she could slip into and out of with no consequences. It wasn’t just a break—it was breaking her.
“Sarah.”
Beckett’s quiet voice murmuring her name— her name—had the ache and the panic coalescing into a knot in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut against the burn of tears. She was fine. She just needed to get her head on straight, so she’d make it through the rest of this week. If she kept repeating it, she’d start to believe it.
“Sarah, honey.” At Beckett’s hands on her shoulders, she broke, turning into him and pressing her face to his broad chest.
He pulled her close, brushing a kiss to the top of her head. “Hey, what’s all this? What’s wrong?”
“Everything. I was fine before. I knew what I was doing. I had a plan and a life. A good one, damn it. This whole trip was supposed to be just a blip. A chance to help my sister and get out of the city to clear my head so I could get back to work and get on with my life. Then I came here and there was you and this place, and I can breathe for the first time in I don’t know how long, and I don’t know how to go back to before. I don’t know how I can just up and act like this time didn’t happen, and it’s all your fault.” She thumped his shoulder with one balled fist, but there was no real heat behind it, just a boatload of frustrated misery as she continued to let it all spill out.
“How can I go back to Brooklyn and focus on my thesis, when a big part of me is going to be here, thinking about you? How can I go back to my normal when you’ve planted all these questions in my head? I doubt myself . I never doubt myself. I always have a plan. I always know what’s next because the alternative is falling into absolute, hot-mess chaos like my sister, and I will not be a hot mess, Beckett. I just won’t.”
She looked up at him then, shocked and not a little incensed to see one corner of his mouth twitching. “This is not funny!”
He sobered, shaking his head. “No it’s not.” One big hand came up to cup her cheek, a callused thumb wiping at her tears. “You don’t want to walk away from us?”
Sarah stared at him. “That was your take away from all that?”
“To my mind, it’s the most important part. Everything else is just details.”
“Just details? How the hell do you think this is going to work? Because I’ve been wracking my brain for days, and I can’t see a way. You’re here. I’m going to be there.”
“If you’re determined to go back, then we do long distance for the summer. I get days off. It’s not that far to New York from here. You’ll want to get out of the city again. We can make it work.” He stroked her cheek again. “This is worth finding a way.”
She wanted to lean into the touch, into his calm assurance that things would be fine. But how did he know? “But what about after? You don’t even know where you’ll be after this summer.”
“There are jobs in New York.”
Equal parts moved and horrified, she shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that. You were a park ranger. You do search and rescue and rock climbing. You’d hate the city. Hell, I’ve been there for three years, and I hate it too. All the people and the noise—” She shuddered.
“You don’t have to go back.”
She dropped her gaze. “I do. I have a meeting with my thesis advisor next week.”
If he felt some kind of betrayal that she hadn’t told him before, he didn’t show it. But maybe he didn’t realize it hadn’t been set before the camp training.
“I get that you need to finish your Master’s degree. At this close, I don’t blame you, even though it’s not the choice I made myself. But are you really willing to endure another four or more years of living with the crowds and the noise to get a PhD? Is that actually going to make you happy? Will it fulfill you?”
No. The answer trembled through her in a whisper she didn’t want to hear but couldn’t ignore.
“I can see the answer in your face. You don’t want the PhD. You don’t want the city. And that’s completely fine. What will make you happy and fulfill you?”
“How can I even answer that? That makes it sound like I have everything figured out, and it turns out I’ve got nothing at all figured out. School, academics—that’s what I know. What I’m good at.”
“But it’s not the only thing you’re good at. I’ve seen your pictures. You’re good.”
Jerking her shoulders, she stepped away to pace. “It’s not a job. It’s not stability and the ability to pay my bills. I won’t be burden to anyone.”
“First off, I don’t think you’d ever be a burden. You’ve got too much work ethic for that. Second, there’s a great big range between wildly successful and destitute. You are a good photographer. And there are ways to build a following, gain exposure to do things other than shoot weddings. I know a guy from my time in Yosemite who started a really nice little side hustle with stock photos. It’s a passive income stream that you can continually build on.”
“He had Yosemite to shoot.” Probably any idiot with a camera could take good shots of that kind of glory.
“He did. But his bread and butter wasn’t that. It was the small stuff. Detail shots of all kinds of things in nature and whatnot. Animals. Flowers. People. I’m sure there’s some kind of logic behind what really moves in stock photos, and I don’t claim to know it, but it’s certainly something worth looking into.” Stepping into her path, he skimmed his hands down her arms and laced his fingers with hers. “My point is, if you’ll take off those blinders that have kept you focused on academia all these years, you’ll find another way. A way to financially support yourself doing something that isn’t going to kill your soul. Maybe it’ll take a while to build and figure out, and maybe you’ll have to work some imperfect jobs in the meantime, but I promise you, it’s worth it.”
She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe there was a way. And yet…
“Do you have any idea how scary this is for me?”
He dropped his brow to hers. “As scary as the idea of letting you walk out of my life.”
Sarah’s heart squeezed hard, and there went that knot in her throat again. “Oh.”
“I believe in you, and I believe in us. Maybe that’s crazy after less than two weeks, but there you have it. Let’s give ourselves the chance to figure the rest out.”
Standing at the end of the pier, far out over the water, Sarah did the impossible. She let go of the plan that had been guiding her life for a decade and grabbed on to Beckett instead. “Okay.”
“The end of orientation is coming up in a couple of days, so today the goal is to focus on team building. This year, we’ve elected to do that through a massive game of capture the flag.” Heather’s breakfast announcement was greeted with a chorus of cheers around the room.
Team exercises weren’t at all what Beckett wanted to be doing on his last full day with Sarah, but he was out of viable excuses to keep them out of the mainstream activities. This was camp tradition, apparently.
“You will all stick to the teams you’ve been assigned from the beginning. It will be up to each team to decide who defends and who is on flag retrieval duty. Now, winners—by which I mean whichever team manages to capture and hoist the flag of any opposing team at their home base—will be first in the rotation for time off. We thought that might make for a reasonable incentive.” Heather grinned, her eyes sparkling with devious energy.
“Well, that just made this a cut-throat competition,” Charlie muttered.
“Teams have half an hour to convene and choose a base camp within this designated area.” She gestured to the large map projected on the wall. “Team leaders can come collect your flags up here on the stage.”
As designated red team leader, Beckett collected their flag before they all reconvened in the climbing hut to strategize. As it was more than merely his climbing staff, the little building was packed.
“We ought to have an advantage over everyone else,” Diego insisted. “We know all the territory around the ropes course, the climbing wall, and all the hiking trails in between.”
Sarah bounced on the balls of her feet, gaze tracking over a map spread out on the table. “I propose we establish base here.” She tapped a finger on the map. “There’s a ropes course platform right here that would give a perfect view of anyone coming. Easily defensible.”
“Is that within the rules?” Laura asked. “Feels like cheating.”
“They didn’t expressly say we had to make it easy to get to.” Sarah’s eyes sparkled with the glint of competition, and Beckett had to admit to himself that seeing her this charged up was sexy as hell.
He came to Sarah’s defense. “Well, considering that I’m pretty sure blue team is setting up on the swim raft out in the lake, I think we have every right to use one of the ropes course platforms as base.”
They spent a few more minutes discussing duties, deciding where their “jail” would be. Then they split off into defensive and offensive forces. By the time the air horn sounded, signaling the start of the game, everyone was in position.
“So which flag are we going after?” Laura asked. “Green seems the most accessible over by the archery range. And yellow isn’t too much harder, on the tennis courts.”
Sarah folded her arms, her eyes narrowed as she stared out at the lake where the blue flag fluttered in the breeze at the top of the lifeguard chair on the floating island. “We’re going for blue.”
“Blue!” Diego stared at her. “Are you nuts? That’s the hardest, by far!”
“Which is why no one else will be going for it,” she reasoned. “They’re cocky. See how few people they left guarding it?”
“Props for ambition, girl,” Charlie put in, “but it’s impossible to approach undetected. They’ll tag any of us out and stick us in jail before we have time to get anywhere.”
Beckett met her gaze and understood. “It’s nearly impossible, but not entirely for someone who can swim like her. How long can you hold your breath?”
Her smile spread slow and wicked. “Long enough. I just need a distraction.”
She approached the entire thing like a five-star general planning an offensive. Beckett had to admit, she was a good tactician. Everybody fell in line. Diego, Charlie, Laura, and the others all split up to sneak into the boathouse. They’d be attempting approaches via kayak and canoe and would hopefully serve as adequate decoys while Sarah approached from the rear.
Keeping close to buildings for cover, Beckett and Sarah made their way around to the opposite side of the lake. It was a much farther swim from this angle than it was from the dock. As she stripped down to her swimsuit, he studied the distance.
“You sure you can make this?”
“Positive. And, in the event that I get tagged and put into jail, I’m relying on you to come rescue me.”
And wasn’t that progress from where they’d started?
Beckett caught her in a fast kiss. “Always.”
With one last grin, she slipped into the water, quickly sinking below the surface, so that only the top of her head was visible. When she started sucking in deep lungfuls of air, Beckett frowned.
“Seriously, how long can you hold your breath?”
“Three minutes, easy. Longer, if necessary.”
“Can you really make it that far, that fast?”
She settled her goggles in place. “My college swim coach was a former Navy SEAL. Trust me. I’ve got this.” With one last, gigantic breath, she disappeared.
Beckett automatically began counting as he lifted his binoculars and watched the raft. She was right. They were cocky, and every single one of them was paying attention to the rest of the red team, who milled about in kayaks attempting to approach the raft. Some of the blue team was also in the water, serving as the police force to keep would-be thieves away from their home base. No one was paying attention to the back side.
Still counting, Beckett kept his eyes on the surface of the water for any disturbance that signified her progress or any unexpected distress. At three minutes, he hadn’t seen a single sign of her. At four, he toed off his shoes, prepared to call the whole damned thing off and go in after her. Then he saw a slight disturbance of the water at the edge of the platform and a head bobbed up.
Beckett released the breath he’d been holding with a woosh.
Christ, that had been nearly four-and-a-half minutes.
Sarah stayed where she was, probably gripping the underside of the raft as she waited for the rest of the distraction to click into place.
Assured she was okay, Beckett gave the signal, and Charlie nobly threw himself on his metaphorical sword, making a direct run at one of the blue team members and getting tagged. But he didn’t go to their jail at the edge of the dock without a fight. Diego and Laura went to attempt to rescue him, and the whole thing turned into a laughing, splashing battle with the remaining blue team guards.
No one was paying any attention to the back of the raft, which was bobbing in all the chop created by the distraction. Beckett watched as Sarah smoothly hoisted herself up out of the water and onto the edge of the platform. She crouched there for a moment as the rest of their team made an even bigger brouhaha on the other side. Utilizing their distraction, she climbed the two rungs to the top of the lifeguards chair and snagged their flag. She stuffed it into her swimsuit. In a flash, she was down in the water again, starting the swim back.
“Come on. Come on.” Beckett chanted it, as if that could make her faster. She’d already proved her lung capacity was superior, so he didn’t worry as much about the long stretch of nothing as he had on the trip over.
They were at the two-and-a-half minute mark when someone on the blue team recognized that their flag had disappeared. On the dock, blue scrambled, trying to figure out whether their flag had straight up flown off the raft in the wind. Then Sarah’s head broke the surface of the water fifty feet from shore. The enemy spotted her. Shouts rang out, several people on the raft pointing in her direction.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” Beckett began to wave, flailing his arms, urging her to put on some speed.
She paused for only a moment, looking over her shoulder, where three of their kayak jailers were closing the distance. She broke into a smooth butterfly, as she had the day of the swim test, and proved she was still the best swimmer at Camp Firefly Falls. Her hand slapped the muddy bank, and she stumbled out, falling to her knees, gasping. But her eyes were feverish and triumphant as she tugged the sopping wet flag out of her swimsuit and handed it over. “Take it. Get back to base.”
Beckett reached out a hand. “Hurry up. Come on.”
She shook her head. “I can’t move fast enough. I just used all of my energy. Go.” The blue team was getting closer to shore. “Go!”
“I’ll come back for you!” With one last look at her, Beckett turned and bolted into the trees.
She’d been right about their advantage in this competition. He’d spent more time in these woods than most anyone else, and he knew the quickest way from here to home base—for all the good it did him. They were surrounded. There was no way he’d be able to get to the ladder to go straight up. He’d have to go through the trees.
Good thing we planned for this.
Beckett backtracked to one of the other stations further up the zipline chain. The harness and helmet he’d hidden in the brush for just this situation were still there. He donned them both, and scurried up to the platform, clicking himself onto the zip line and leaping. The wind in his hair was exhilarating, and under other circumstances he’d have whooped with joy. But he didn’t want anyone to know he was coming.
He made it from one platform to the next, clipping on, clipping off, clipping on, clipping off, until he was almost all the way back to home base. Someone from below spotted him. “Up there!”
Just one more stretch to go.
Clipping onto the last line, he bellowed, “Incoming!”
His team gave way as he came in hot, going a whole lot faster than he probably should have. Grinning ear to ear, he slammed into the padded center post and handed off the blue flag to a teammate to attach it next to their own where it flapped limply in the breeze.
Someone must have radioed back to home base to make the announcement because the airhorn sounded again and Heather came over the camp loudspeaker announcing, “The red team is the winner!”
And with Sarah’s help, they’d done it in less than an hour.