Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Donovan
I can’t decide if I’m taking my time with rigging this morning because I want to be extra sure everything is secure before we hit the big rapids, or if my dedication is related to Derek. AKA doing whatever I can to avoid him. It’s probably a bit of both, but more so the latter reason.
Avoiding Derek is the last thing I want to do, but it’s a good idea. After what happened yesterday—almost happened—any space I can get from him is important unless I want to finish out this trip with some good old fashioned heartbreak. It might already be too late for that one.
As I triple check the dry bags holding everyone’s personal gear, ensuring they won’t go anywhere even if the boat flips, my eyes lift to the beach for the fiftieth time since I started rigging, finding Derek with ease.
He and Maverick have been talking for at least twenty minutes by this point, off in a secluded part of the beach, and I’m desperate to know what they’re talking about and why Maverick looks like he’s found his new hero in Derek Riley.
I mean, sure, most people look at Derek that way, but Maverick didn’t until this morning. Whatever they’re talking about, it seems to be something life-changing.
Why do I get the feeling that Derek does that for a lot of people?
Movement near Derek pulls my gaze, and I cringe when I catch Brody looking at me while he packs his day bag.
He hasn’t come anywhere close to me since the hike the other day—since Derek threatened him—and I haven’t been the least bit disappointed by that.
I do feel bad that almost everyone has shunned him, but that’s what he gets for being a sleazeball.
Though I shift my gaze away from the guy, I can still feel his eyes on me as I go back to ensuring everything is secured tight, shuddering as I do.
Derek has even made things with Brody better, and it’s getting harder to stick to my conviction that I need to walk away when this trip is over.
Once again, I run through my reasons for keeping things professional: Derek is one of the most famous people in Hollywood.
I’ll never be able to hide who I am. If I get back in the spotlight, I’ll turn back into the monster I was.
Won’t I?
What if Derek has enough goodness to counteract my response to fame?
What if I’ve healed enough that I won’t act in fear?
What if I’ll be okay?
“Hey, Donovan, where do you want this?”
Blinking, I reluctantly look up to find Brody standing a few feet away now. He’s holding my life jacket, which I intentionally left on shore with my water bottle. “Oh, you can leave it—”
“Definitely want this today, huh?” He steps onto the boat with the grace of a newborn giraffe, nearly knocking me out of my seat as the boat jolts under his feet. After a moment of flailing arms, he finds his balance and holds the jacket out to me.
I hold back a sigh and take it from him. “Thanks. It’ll be a minute before we shove off, so you can wait on the—”
“What are the chances I can hang on your boat today?” He crouches down, bringing his face way closer than I’d like as he smiles widely. “I’ve been dying to see the master at work, and what better time is there than now?”
Never, I want to say, but I bite my tongue.
He might be genuine, and I should take the compliment for what it is.
A lot of self-important guys like him barely acknowledge that a woman might be good at rowing in the first place, let alone call one a master.
“Sorry,” I say as gently as I can. “We don’t take passengers on the gear boat. ”
“Unless they pay,” he adds with a scoff. His eyes slide over to Derek, narrowing slightly. “What if I pay too? Whatever he gave you to be on your boat, I’ll match it.”
This isn’t a good time to mention Derek’s hundred-grand contribution to Red Earth’s bank account, even if I’d like to see Brody’s eyes bug out of his head. He hates Derek as it is, and I doubt Derek having throwaway money like that will help Brody’s opinion.
“Sorry,” I say again and stand, hoping it signals Brody to get off my boat and back to shore where he belongs. “It’s hard enough for Derek to find a place to sit, and I guarantee you’ll have a lot more fun on one of the other boats.”
Brody stands too, filling me with relief for half a second until he shifts forward, his hand cupping my elbow and making me tense. “I highly doubt that, Donovan. I’m not Derek Riley, but you and I could have so much fun together.”
Is he serious? I’m so thrown by his boldness that I just gape at him. “Was my ‘no’ back in Moab not enough for you?” I ask, feeling suddenly lightheaded as I take in the hunger-driven gleam in his eyes.
He chuckles, sliding his hand up my arm. “That was before we knew each other. Before I knew you were open to secret rendezvous.”
I stare at his fingers as they trail up my skin, my jaw tight and my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Brody, stop touching me.”
To my utter surprise, he does, pulling his hand from my arm.
But then he leans closer, forcing me to lean back to keep some distance between our faces.
I would take a step, but there’s nothing but a deep and rocky river with a strong current past the tube of the boat behind me, and this is not a place I want to fall in.
I’m standing in the most solid spot I’ve got unless I make a dash to the shore.
Tempting, but I’ll save that as a last resort. I’d rather stand my ground.
“I’ve seen the way you throw yourself at Riley,” he says in a sickly sweet voice that makes my skin crawl. “You can’t honestly tell me you’re not interested in a hookup, and I guarantee I’ve got moves you’ve never—”
“This conversation is over,” I say sharply and turn to cross the boat back to the beach.
“Ah come on, give me a chance!” Brody follows me.
His hurried movement jerks the boat, knocking me off balance, and though he grabs my wrist—to catch me, I would hope—my hand slips from his grip with a sharp, painful pop.
My ankle catches on the oar behind me, and I tumble backward, bracing myself for impact.
The river softens my fall for the most part, but my shoulder hits a submerged rock hard, knocking the breath out of me and filling my mouth with water.
My foot slips on the rocks beneath me, sending me back underwater and forcing another frantic gulp of water into my lungs.
I scramble for something to hold but everything is slimy.
My lungs burn. Am I going downstream? The current is too strong here, what if—
Someone grabs me, and my face breaks the surface of the water. I gasp for air but can only cough as my body tries to expel the water I breathed. I flail, trying to gain my footing, but strong arms hold me tight at my back and under my legs.
“I’ve got you,” a soft voice says.
It’s the familiar voice that jars me out of panic, and though I can’t stop coughing, I stare up into Mason’s warm eyes. “Thanks,” I gasp.
“GoGo,” Mason says as he leans toward the shore, though the current is too swift for him to get far. At least he has a solid footing.
Thiago reaches his hand out to me, and I gratefully take it, eager to be on dry land.
But the instant he pulls, pain laces up my arm and I cry out, jerking my wrist out of his hold with a curse and shutting my eyes against the dizzying pain.
As soon as the world stops spinning, I give him my other hand and let him help me over the rocks and onto the sand.
Dropping to my knees, Thiago’s hand on my back, I keep coughing until my lungs feel raw, then I sink down and roll onto my back, my eyes shut tight against the sun as I try to breathe. Calm down.
“Donovan!” Brody’s voice is the last thing I want to hear right now and makes my nerves spike. “Donovan, I’m so sorry!”
“Just stop,” someone snaps at him. Maverick, maybe? Don’t know, don’t care.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Where are you hurt?” That’s Farah, and I reluctantly open my eyes to meet her gaze. She’s kneeling at my side, her expression serious as Mason and Thiago gesture for the guests to give us some space.
I can’t help it—my eyes search for Derek.
He’s not far from where he was standing before, locked in Hunter’s hold in a way that makes it clear he’s been fighting to get free.
He’s motionless now, his eyes frantic and fixed on me as he struggles to breathe just like me, but then his gaze shifts somewhere above my head and turns murderous, and Hunter has to tighten his hold when he starts fighting again.
A shiver runs through me.
“Donovan?” Farah says.
“I think I’m just bruised,” I croak, rolling my shoulder a bit as I reluctantly look away from Derek’s fury. I can already feel a giant lump growing between me and the hard sand beneath me, but it could be worse. I’ll be stiff by the end of the day, but I can still move it.
“Did you hit your head?”
“No.” I’m lucky, with how many rocks were under the water. “Really, I’m—”
“Check her wrist,” Mason says.
Even as Farah takes hold of my right hand, I cough and roll my eyes. “I’m fi—ow!”
“Sorry!” Farah says with a wince. “I don’t think you’re fine, Dono. It’s already swelling.”
I curse, slowly lifting my head to look at the wrist she’s gently holding.
Not that I need to see it. The sharp, throbbing ache is telling me plenty.
I get battered on these trips all the time, but I don’t remember the last time I got hurt enough for my vision to blur at the edges.
If I don’t keep breathing, I’m either going to throw up or pass out.
She’s right about the swelling, though it doesn’t look terrible. Yet.
“Move your fingers for me,” Farah says. Orders, more like.
I comply, preemptively wincing. Thankfully, moving my fingers doesn’t hurt any more than letting my hand rest. “They’re fine.”
Farah nods. “Now, move your wrist up and down.”
That one’s harder, and I grit my teeth as I gingerly move through the pain. I have mobility, but it hurts. A lot.
“Rotate,” Farah says.