25. Chapter Twenty-Six
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EVIE
A week after I accepted the Wild Terrain assignment, nothing had fallen apart, even though some part of me had expected three months in Patagonia to make things strange between us.
Tavian had hated the length of it, Luca had started thinking about how we would handle the practical parts, and Malek had admitted he hated the idea of me being somewhere he couldn't reach.
I'd gone to bed that night expecting at least some awkwardness afterward, but the next morning Tavian had complained about how much space Malek took up in the nest, Luca had made breakfast, and Malek had kissed the back of my shoulder before I left for work.
Apparently, accepting another job hadn't broken anything.
Tavian still appeared with food I hadn't requested and opinions I definitely hadn't asked for, Luca still asked before touching my equipment even when whatever I was doing made his fingers visibly twitch with the desire to fix it, and Malek remained quiet, attentive, and impossible to forget was nearby even when he hadn't spoken for twenty minutes.
The changes were smaller. Tavian scented me more often when I arrived at the temple, Luca's purr tended to start soon after I settled into the nest, and Malek had begun appearing along my routes a little more frequently than before.
His hand also occasionally stayed in my hair or against the back of my neck for a few extra seconds before he let me go.
My own instincts weren't being particularly subtle either.
I rearranged the nest more often, kept Malek's charcoal shirt near my pillow, and noticed immediately when Luca's blanket or one of Tavian's little gifts wasn't where I'd left it.
None of that had stopped me from working, and I hadn't quietly moved out of the station.
I still slept there whenever my route, editing schedule, or morning plans made it the better option.
When an overnight in the western field zone made professional sense, though, I had started using the same general sleeping area near the old stonework that Mara already had in her notes instead of hiking back to the field shelter.
Mara didn't know my alternate sleeping place was an ancient sanctuary occupied by three leopard shifters or that I'd built an Omega nest inside it.
As far as she knew, I'd found a safe, dry place inside the marked zone where my radio worked, and I continued following the same check-in procedures I used anywhere else in the field.
She didn't need the exact coordinates of where I slept as long as I stayed where I'd told her I would be and called when I was supposed to.
More importantly, none of the men had asked me to reconsider Patagonia.
Caroline had sent more details during the week, and nobody treated each email as another chance to talk me out of going.
They could dislike the fact that I was leaving without deciding their discomfort meant I should stay, and I trusted them a little more every time they proved that.
“Your radio.” Mara reminded me from across the station porch, pointing toward the handset beside my notebook with the hand that wasn't wrapped around her coffee mug.
“I was getting there.” I told Mara as I picked it up and slid it into the outer pocket of my overnight field pack, checking that the antenna sat where I could reach it without removing the whole thing.
“You say that every time I remind you about something.” Mara replied as she took another drink, her brown eyes following my hands while I secured the pocket.
“Because you're always interrupting me about two seconds before I do it.” I told Mara as I tucked the folded route map into the inner section with my field notes and checked the zipper on the medical pouch.
“An amazing coincidence. West ruins and upper terrace today, then you're staying out tonight?” Mara asked as she lowered her mug and glanced toward the field log, shifting easily from teasing to the day's actual plan.
“That's the plan. I want another pass at the jacamars near the old stonework, and there was a motmot using the lower edge a few mornings ago.
I'll work that area today, stay near the old stonework tonight, then use the early light tomorrow before I start back.” I confirmed to Mara as I settled the heavier pack onto my shoulders and adjusted the straps until the weight sat correctly.
“Same general overnight area you've been using?” Mara asked as she glanced toward the marked section of the map, treating the question like the routine detail it had become.
“Yeah. Still inside the marked zone. Six tonight, then I'll update you before I start back tomorrow.” I answered Mara as I checked the camera hanging against my chest and made sure nothing on the heavier pack interfered with the strap.
“Expected return?” Mara asked as she picked up her pen and added the overnight beside my name.
“Before ten tomorrow unless I call with a change.” I told Mara as I tightened one final strap and checked that the radio pocket hadn't shifted underneath it.
“Good. Try not to argue with any birds before then.” Mara replied as she finished writing and looked at me over the top of the field log, amusement returning around her eyes.
“They start it.” I told Mara as I headed down the porch steps, catching the unimpressed look she gave me over the rim of her coffee before I disappeared onto the trail.
The morning was already hot enough that my shirt had started sticking between my shoulder blades by the time I reached the older ruins.
Rain over the previous few days had darkened the forest floor, leaving wet leaves flattened against the soil and water gathered in shallow dips between exposed roots.
Moss, vines, and thick roots had grown through the broken stone for so long that sections of the old walls disappeared beneath vegetation until I was nearly standing beside them.
A capuchin moved noisily through the branches overhead while I stopped to adjust one of the pack straps.
Staying with the spotted ones again, the capuchin observed from somewhere above my left shoulder, pushing broad leaves aside as its small face appeared between them.
“Later. Some of us have jobs.” I answered the capuchin as I pulled the strap tighter and started walking again, hearing branches shift overhead when it followed me.
You are always working, the capuchin complained as it traveled through the canopy above me, sounding personally offended by my employment.
“Yes. That's generally how having a job works.” I told the capuchin as I stepped around a patch of mud and glanced toward the moving leaves.
The spotted ones will wait, the capuchin informed me with complete confidence before disappearing into thicker vegetation. That was apparently all the career advice I was getting this morning.
Malek found me about forty minutes after I'd left the station. He didn't announce himself. I caught cedar and damp earth beneath the smell of wet vegetation first, then spotted him farther along the trail as he stepped around a broad tree trunk.
“You know appearing silently around people is generally considered creepy.” I told Malek as he fell into step beside me, noticing that the dark hair around his temples was damp with sweat.
“I wasn't behind you.” Malek replied as he glanced toward me, amusement showing in his golden-brown eyes while he matched my pace without crowding the narrow trail.
“You were until I turned around.” I told Malek as I stepped over a thick root and steadied the camera against my chest.
“That is usually how behind works.” Malek said as he ducked beneath a low branch, his voice so dry that I turned and stared at him.
“Are you getting worse on purpose?” I asked Malek as I caught the tiny movement at the corner of his mouth that told me he was enjoying himself considerably more than his expression suggested.
“Yes.” Malek answered without hesitation, brushing one hand lightly against the middle of my back when the trail narrowed before letting it fall again once we had more room.
I laughed and kept walking, and that was how most of the morning went.
Malek stayed close without getting in my way, waited quietly when I stopped to photograph a pair of jacamars, and pointed out the second bird when it dropped onto a lower branch behind a curtain of wet leaves.
Between subjects, we talked about ordinary things instead of spending the entire day circling Patagonia.
I explained why I sometimes kept a technically imperfect photograph if the animal was doing something worth documenting, while Malek told me how much the river could change during the heavier part of the rainy season.
He didn't mention the new assignment until we reached a shallow stream.
“Caroline sent anything else?” Malek asked as he stepped onto the opposite bank and waited while I tested the next slick stone with my boot.
“Field-team details and a longer equipment recommendation list. Wild Terrain seems very determined to remind me that mountains are cold.” I answered Malek as I crossed after him, balancing carefully until both boots were on dry ground again.
“You'll need different clothes.” Malek observed as his gaze dropped briefly toward my lightweight field pants before returning to my face.
“That is generally how climates work. Cold changes more than clothes, though.
Batteries drain faster, condensation becomes a different problem, and I'll have to rethink how I carry some of my gear.” I told Malek as I pulled the damp hem of my shirt away from my stomach and started up the trail again.
Malek listened, nodded once when I finished, and let the subject rest instead of turning every detail into something he needed to solve for me. A few weeks ago, I might not have noticed that choice. Now I did.