Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
EVIE
Twenty minutes later, Tavian approached with another ridiculous courtship gift pinched carefully between two fingers—a tiny spiral shell he had found along the muddy edge of the stream.
The pale shell was hardly bigger than my thumbnail, streaked with thin brown lines and still damp from wherever he had picked it up.
I caught him glancing from the shell to the pocket of my field shirt with obvious intent while sunlight flickered through the leaves above him, catching warmer reddish tones in his nearly black hair.
“Do not put that in my pocket without checking whether something lives in it.” I warned Tavian before his hand got any closer, pointing toward the shell while keeping my camera braced against my knee.
“Checking.” Tavian lifted the shell and rotated it between his fingers, squinting into the narrow opening with exaggerated concentration before holding it toward one of the brighter patches of sunlight.
“That is not how you check.” I told Tavian as he tilted the opening toward the light and inspected it again, taking my concern seriously enough not to immediately shove the thing into my clothes.
“Empty.” Tavian announced with satisfaction after another few seconds, holding the shell up between us as though verifying the absence of an angry snail deserved some kind of reward.
“You are unbelievable.” I shook my head at Tavian, though the smile already pulling at my mouth ruined most of the criticism.
“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.
” Tavian tucked the shell into the outer mesh pocket of my camera bag instead of my shirt, his mouth curving when I made no attempt to remove it.
I left it there rather than pointing out that I had never actually agreed to keep it, which probably told him everything he needed to know.
The light shifted after lunch, and the open area above the pool became busier with birds as the sun found wider gaps in the canopy.
I spent nearly an hour photographing tanagers and toucans moving through the trees around the waterfall while Tavian wandered close enough to help without hovering in my frame.
An agouti appeared along the far bank long enough for several shots before vanishing beneath thick vegetation, and Tavian found a narrow gap between two enormous roots where I could crouch low enough to photograph the water without soaking my knees.
Every so often I caught him scanning the ground for another object to bring me, but apparently the forest had exhausted its immediate supply of things he considered appropriate gifts.
A little after two, my knees were beginning to complain about how much time I had spent crouched on stone, and the back of my shirt stuck damply between my shoulder blades despite the cooler mist drifting off the waterfall.
I checked my watch while Tavian stood beside me, and he followed the movement before turning toward the narrow trail climbing along the ridge above the falls.
“We should go farther up. There’s another overlook above the falls.” Tavian pointed toward the barely visible path winding between the trees, his body already angled in that direction before he seemed to remember the decision wasn’t his to make.
“How far?” I asked Tavian as I checked the time again, calculating the return trip while the waterfall thundered behind us and spray gathered in tiny droplets along my forearms.
“Maybe forty minutes.” Tavian studied the ridge and gave one shoulder a casual shrug, clearly measuring the distance according to leopard-shifter standards rather than mine.
Another forty minutes farther out meant forty minutes back before we even started toward the station, and that was assuming I didn’t stop for anything worth photographing along the way.
“We could stay longer.” Tavian stepped closer when he noticed me doing the math, hope appearing openly across his face as he gestured toward the radio clipped at my belt. “You have the radio.”
“I told Mara I’d be back by six.” I reminded Tavian while lowering myself beside the camera bag and putting the camera securely into its padded compartment, making sure the lens cap was seated before closing the zipper.
“So tell her seven.” Tavian motioned toward the handset with one hand, his tone making the solution sound simple enough that I almost laughed.
“That isn’t how I use the radio.” I closed the compartment and looked up at Tavian, keeping one hand resting over the bag while I waited for him to listen instead of immediately coming up with another argument.
“You changed it yesterday.” Tavian reminded me as he leaned one hip against the nearby rock, confusion pulling his brows together rather than stubbornness.
“For work.” I turned more fully toward Tavian, resting both hands on top of the bag. “The light improved after the rain, I had strong photographs, and I had a reason to keep working. I called Mara before the original return time and gave her a new one.”
“You could have a reason now.” Tavian pointed toward the ridge again, although some of the certainty had already left the suggestion.
“I could, but I already have plenty from here, and I don’t need that overlook today.” I nodded toward the waterfall and the forest around it, where I had already found more usable material than I expected when we left the station that morning.
Tavian rested more of his weight against the rock and listened. He was disappointed—I could see that when his gaze wandered toward the higher trail—but he didn’t interrupt or try to make another case for it.
“When I tell Mara six, she needs to know I’ll either be back by six or contact her because something changed.” I lowered my wrist after checking the time once more. “If I move that deadline every time I find something more interesting, then being late stops meaning anything.”
“She’d come looking for you.” Tavian’s humor disappeared as his attention moved toward the route we had followed into the waterfall, his posture straightening slightly as he understood where I was going.
“Yes.” I nodded to Tavian, watching the disappointment in his face give way to something more thoughtful.
“So she needs the time to mean something.” Tavian looked back at me, working through the reason behind the rule rather than simply accepting it because I had said so.
“Exactly.” I shifted the camera bag closer to my knee while a gust pushed cool spray across my arms and lifted several damp strands of hair from my neck.
“I work in places where things go wrong. Weather changes. People fall. Equipment breaks. Sometimes wildlife does something no one expected. Having someone know where I am doesn’t take away my independence.
It means someone notices when I don’t come back. ”
“Okay. Six.” Tavian nodded slowly, glancing toward the ridge one last time before returning his attention to me. He still wanted to show me what was up there, but he no longer looked tempted to argue.
“Six.” I confirmed to Tavian, relieved that a conversation about something important to me had remained exactly that—a conversation.
“Next time, then.” Tavian pushed himself away from the rock, his gaze flicking toward the climbing trail once more before he let the idea go.
“Next time.” I promised Tavian, and the relief that crossed his face happened so quickly I almost missed it. He looked far more pleased by the promise of another day than disappointed about losing this particular detour, and that stayed with me after he turned away.
We still had time to work around the waterfall before we needed to leave, so I followed the stream lower while Tavian moved with me.
Animal tracks crossed a shallow section beneath the trees, and thick vegetation offered enough cover that I could settle near the bank without immediately announcing myself to everything nearby.
The ground smelled of wet leaves and dark soil beneath the sharper mineral scent of the water, and the roar of the waterfall softened as we moved farther downstream.
Tavian became unusually quiet while I photographed a small troop of capuchins moving through the canopy.
There was no sulking or restless pacing over the overlook he wasn’t getting to show me.
Instead, he sat on a broad stone a few yards away with one knee raised, picking absently at the ragged edge of a fallen leaf while I worked.
The behavior was strange enough coming from him that I noticed almost immediately, and once the final capuchin disappeared through the leaves and the branch stopped swaying behind it, I lowered my camera.
“You’re being weird.” I told Tavian as I let the camera rest against my chest, studying the unusual stillness in his posture while he rolled a torn strip of leaf between his fingertips.
“I’m sitting.” Tavian glanced over at me and attempted a smile, but it disappeared too quickly to convince me there wasn’t something else behind the silence.
“You’re sitting quietly.” I narrowed my eyes at Tavian and let the camera strap settle more comfortably around my neck, waiting for the explanation he clearly wasn’t planning to volunteer.
“I can do that.” Tavian defended himself as he tore another narrow strip from the leaf, although his attention returned immediately to his hands instead of me.
“I have evidence otherwise. What?” I set the camera carefully on top of my bag and moved closer, stepping around the damp edge of the stream before stopping beside the rock.
“Nothing.” Tavian rubbed the torn piece between his fingers and looked toward the water, his shoulders held a little tighter than they had been earlier.
I waited without filling the silence for him.
Water rushed somewhere beyond the trees, insects hummed around the stream, and Tavian lasted less than five seconds before his shoulders loosened.
“You said next time.” Tavian finally lifted his gaze toward me, and there was enough uncertainty in his face that the question no longer sounded casual. “You meant it?”