Chapter 12
TWELVE
Frankie caught sight of Stephanie and the rest of the Buddies beside one of the buildings. She was annoyed that she and Waylon were almost late thanks to Derek. At least Waylon had deterred him. She was happy to let Derek continue to believe Waylon was her boyfriend, even if the idea was ridiculous.
My friends and I …we can do something about that .
Nope, ridiculous she told herself as she bit her lower lip. Besides, you aren’t sticking around once you get the all-clear .
Or was she?
She shook her head. If she was staying, it wasn’t for Waylon. He wasn’t her only consideration.
Speaking of, Waylon was still back at the truck, looking down at something in the dirt. Frankie felt a moment of doubt. Did he really want to be here? Was he having second thoughts?
When he caught up to her she glanced up at him to judge his mood. He didn’t look as annoyed as she’d expected, but something was eating at him. She wouldn’t have known that a week ago, but since Pickleball, she’d come to know his resting face wasn’t a scowl after all, not around his friends .
Only around her.
Frankie greeted the group with a casual wave. “Hey, everyone! Sorry we’re late.”
“Everything all right?” Stephanie asked. “I was afraid you’d both backed out.”
“No way,” Frankie answered. She glanced at Waylon. “At least not me.”
“Me neither,” he said, his voice defensive. “I’m here, right?”
“You are indeed,” Stephanie said, studying him before turning away. “Well, now that we’re all here, let’s meet our guides.” Stephanie started around the building to the street where a shuttle gleamed under the bright Colorado sun, a bold Wild Side Zip Lines logo on the side.
“Sweet!” Frankie exclaimed.
“Have you ever been?” Stephanie asked.
Frankie hesitated. “Nope, but it’s something on our…” The words caught in her throat, and her smile faltered as the thought of her “list” resurfaced, breaking her heart just a little. She pushed on, trying to sound upbeat. “Something I’ve always wanted to do.”
Stephanie tilted her head slightly, clearly noticing the pause, but didn’t press. “Well, today’s your lucky day.” She pivoted to the group. “All right, Buddies! Get ready for an action-packed day zipping along cliffsides and over canyons.”
Two guides stepped out of the shuttle and approached. The taller of the two, a lean man with sun-streaked hair and an easy demeanor, waved. “Hey, everyone! I’m Jacob, and this is Kai. We’ll be your guides today.”
Kai, a shorter guy with a wiry build and a mischievous smile, added, “Who’s ready to fly?”
The Buddies erupted into a mix of cheers and nervous laughter. Frankie felt her heart speed up as she ignored her fear of heights and told herself she’d be fine.
Waylon stood close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body. “This your first time ziplining?” he asked, his tone casual, though she caught the trace of a smile tugging at his lips.
“Yup.” Frankie glanced up at him, feeling her pulse quicken—not from fear, but something else entirely. “I suppose you have?”
“Not exactly.” His grin grew wider. “But I’ve had to rappel many times as a Ranger. I trained in Georgia at Mt. Yonah. I had to learn how to rappel with an injured teammate on my back, and stretcher-assisted rappels.”
“Oh, good,” Frankie shot back, her tone teasing. “You’ll be able to rappel me down when I break my neck.”
Waylon’s eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. “You? Nope, I don’t buy it.”
Jacob clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “All right, folks, if you’ll hop on the shuttle, we’ll head to the course.”
Frankie followed the group into the shuttle, settling into a seat near the back. Waylon slid into the seat beside her. His knee brushed hers, a brief and accidental contact that sent a jolt through her. She looked out the window, focusing on the little town of Idaho Springs as they began the ride to the course.
“Any rules we should know?” Stephanie asked Jacob.
“Just the usual,” Jacob replied. “Listen to your guides, keep your helmet on at all times, and have fun. Oh, and scream all you want—it’s good for the soul.”
Kai chimed in, “And it keeps the squirrels entertained.”
Laughter rippled through the shuttle, breaking any lingering tension.
As they arrived at the course, Frankie craned her neck to take in the view. High above, she could make out the first platform built along the side of a cliff, connected to a second by a network of cables, and beyond that, a sprawling canyon opened up, the river below glinting like molten silver.
Jacob led the group to a gear station where the guides handed out harnesses, helmets, and gloves. While Kai and Jacob were busy with Stephanie and one of the other Buddies, Frankie adjusted her harness straps, trying to get the port pillow to stay in place but it kept slipping. She bit her lip against frustrated tears.
I can’t believe I’m letting this stupid little thing get to me .
“Can I help?” Waylon asked. He waited instead of just stepping in and doing it for her, which Frankie appreciated.
“Yeah, I think I need it. Thanks, Buddy,” she said.
“Anytime.” He reached into his pack and took out a plastic circle. “Mind if I tape it in place?” He waved the circle—a roll of some sort of medical tape.
Frankie nodded. “Whatever works.”
Waylon dropped to one knee in front of her, which emphasized their size difference. “It’ll come off without damaging the pillow or the harness.” His voice was low as he adjusted the straps with practiced ease. He slid the pillow into place over her port and Frankie inhaled quickly, her mother’s voice in her head.
Gross. Disgusting. Deformed .
Waylon quickly looked up as his gaze flew to hers. “Did I hurt you?” He looked at her like he’d just ripped her arm off.
“No, not at all.” She smiled as embarrassment heated her cheeks. He held her gaze with tenderness in his, searching.
No, I’m imagining it. He’s only assessing me like a patient .
She broke eye contact and cleared her throat. Waylon tore off a length of tape and wrapped it around the pillow and harness, securing it. His hands lingered a second longer than necessary before he rocked back and stood up.
“That should hold. If it starts to fray, I’ve got plenty more.” He tucked the tape into the pack’s front pocket for easy access.
“Thank you.”
“How we doing over here?” Kai asked, eyeing the pillow. His brows lifted slightly, then he jumped in and took over, demonstrating how to clip onto the lines and explaining the safety measures. Frankie listened as she tried not to be annoyed as he readjusted her harness without bothering to ask. Waylon looked none too pleased as well .
Kai turned to him. “Whatcha weigh, my friend? A side of beef like you might be over our weight limit.”
Waylon snorted. “Calling me fat?”
“Hell no, friend. Military?”
“Former. I’ll make the weight limit. Barely.”
Kai made a fist for Waylon to bump. Frankie nearly sprained her eyes to keep them from rolling. When Kai walked away, she and Waylon exchanged a look that now had her almost spraining her lips not to laugh.
Her nerves kicked in when they started up the steep path to the platform as she imagined soaring over the canyon.
Waylon nudged her. “You nervous?”
Frankie shook her head, though the butterflies in her stomach told a different story. “Excited.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’ve got this, pixie.” His eyes went wide as the name slipped out.
She laughed. “Pixie, really?”
“I’m sorry, I, uh?—”
“It’s the hair, right?” She ran her gloved hand over her spiky, curly hair.
“Well, that and you’re so tiny.”
Frankie laughed. “Anything’s tiny to you, Side O’ Beef.” She punched his arm playfully. “Ouch, he wasn’t kidding.” She shook out her hand, pretending she’d injured it—though considering his guns felt like they were made of actual metal, if she’d punched him for real she’d be dealing with broken knuckles.
Before cancer, she’d never been accused of being tiny. You should see me in a swimsuit now she thought, glad that she’d packed a shirt to wear over it.
I…did pack it, right? She remembered pulling it out, but did she actually put it in her pack before Derek interrupted her?
By the time they reached the first platform, Frankie felt her confidence disappear. All she could focus on was trying not to tear open her pack to make sure she brought her shirt .
“You okay for real?” Waylon asked.
“Yup, just fine.” For now .
Stephanie went first. Jacob hooked her harness to the trolley and gave her a few last-minute pointers. She grabbed the handlebars and jumped, then yelled like Tarzan the entire way across. Everyone cheered as her voice echoed through the mountains.
Waylon cupped his hands and shouted, “I think they heard you in Idaho Springs!”
“I hope they heard me in Idaho!” she shouted back. “That was fun!”
When Frankie’s turn came, she stepped up to the edge. The line stretched out before her like a thread of silver spiderweb to the next platform. She’d never had trouble with heights before, but when she looked down at the river below, her knees locked as vertigo hit her.
“How about I go next?” Waylon said.
“I’m just having a little vertigo. I’m not chickening out.”
“Never said you were.” His mouth twitched into that maddening grin. “You’ve got this, Pixie. I’m just giving you advice for your first jump. When I started rappelling, I focused on something at eye level. Took the jitters right out of it. I figure a side of beef like me will be pretty easy to spot from a few hundred feet away.”
Frankie’s laugh came out unexpectedly, steadying her nerves like nothing else had. “All right, Beefcake, I’ll give a try.”
He squeezed her shoulder, which steadied her even more.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Waylon nodded. Jacob hooked him to the line, then he took off like he’d done it a hundred times before. She watched him sail across, wind tugging at his flannel, until he landed on the next platform and turned to wave at her.
“Okay,” she whispered. “If I can survive cancer, I can do this.”
Besides, I’m never going to hang glide naked if I can’t, and nothing in this world will make me take it off the list.
Jacob hooked up her harness to the trolley. “Ready?” he asked.
Frankie took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready. ”
She leaped off the platform into the air. The wind whipped past her, and the canyon below blurred as she hurtled toward Waylon. Her grip tightened as she laughed, exhilaration rushing through her veins. When she landed, her knees buckled slightly, and Waylon grabbed her arm to steady her.
“What’d I tell you?” he asked, grinning ear to ear.
She blinked up at him, still catching her breath. “Oh. My. God. That was awesome!”
“Told you, you’ve got this,” he said, his grin as wide as the canyon. His pride in her sent an unexpected warmth through her chest.
“Yeah, yeah.” She shook her head, but her smile matched his.
As the group hiked to the next platform, Frankie found herself laughing more, feeling lighter than she had in months. And every time Waylon caught her eye, that feeling only grew stronger. She went ahead of him at the next line, which was about a third longer and gave her an amazing view of Idaho Springs far below.
By the time they reached the final line, a race across the canyon on parallel lines, Frankie was ready. Adrenaline had transformed her nerves into giddy confidence.
“Loser buys lunch,” she declared, narrowing her eyes at Waylon like a gunfighter in an old Western.
“You’re on,” he shot back, his competitive grin sending her pulse racing. “But let’s make it dinner.”
Frankie’s eyebrows rose. “Dinner, huh? Okay, Buddy, but just so you know, I’ve got a crazy dinner planned if you win.”
“You trying to psych me out?” He winked. “I’ve got a crazy dinner idea myself.”
“Heck no. Let’s do this!”
The whistle blew, and Frankie threw herself into the race with everything she had. Wind tore at her hair as she shot across the canyon, the river below a blur of shimmering silver. Waylon pulled ahead, but she wasn’t far behind.
“Lean into the line!” he shouted back at her.
Frankie adjusted her position, feeling the difference immediately. “Thanks! Keep your weight back a little!” she called, spotting the way his posture shifted.
Their combined laughter carried across the canyon.
Frankie knew she had no chance in hell of winning, and honestly, she didn’t want to. ‘Fancy dinner for two in Denver’ was on her list and she couldn’t go without a guest.
Frankie just never imagined Waylon would be her plus-one.
Waylon beat her to the platform, and when she landed, he reached out to catch her.
“Dinner’s on you, Pixie,” he said with a cocky grin.
Frankie pulled off her helmet and shook out her hair. “All right, Beefcake. But if I’m buying, you’re not allowed to complain about my crazy menu.”
“Deal.” His grin softened into something that sent an unexpected flutter through her stomach. This was supposed to be just fun. Why did it feel like so much more?
Once they were back on the shuttle to Idaho Springs, Stephanie announced their next stop.
“All right, after all the excitement, I thought we’d spend the rest of the day relaxing at the hot springs. Who’s been before?”
Frankie looked around to see almost every hand shoot up, including Waylon’s.
That’s when she remembered to check for her shirt. She’d completely forgotten during the excitement of the zip lines. Frankie grabbed her pack off the floor and opened the top.
“You forget your swimsuit?” Waylon asked as he watched her.
Now that was an idea…except her suit was right at the top and very obvious. It was also obvious she’d left her shirt on the bed.
“Nope, suit’s right here,” she said lamely.
“Good. You’ll love this place. They have a huge indoor pool and if you want a real adventure, there are individual pools in the caves beneath the resort.”
“Wow, sounds great.” Maybe I can hide in a cave .
Wait .
“Did you say it’s a resort?”
“Not a big one. More like a hotel.”
“But you can buy things there?”
He looked at her funny. “I guess. What do you need? They supply the towels if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Nope, I’m good,” she said. Especially if they sold t-shirts. She could just buy an extra-large and throw it on over her suit. Easy-peasy.
“What do you mean you’re out of extra-larges?” Frankie implored the woman working the front counter. Behind her, way up on the wall, hung shirts with the hotel’s logo emblazoned across the front—in all sizes. Frankie had lingered at the front desk after everyone else grabbed their complimentary towels and headed for the locker rooms.
“No medium, 2xl or larges, either, sorry, honey. We’ve only got extra-small until the next order comes in, that’s it.”
The extra-small looked like it might fit a three-year-old.
“Could I buy that one right off the wall?” Frankie pointed at the extra-large tee.
“Display only, sorry. They were a pain to get up there, and I’d probably lose my job if I took one down.”
Frankie swallowed hard as the woman moved on to the next customer. The white towel in her hand felt like the size of washcloth, and she couldn’t exactly go in the water with one wrapped around her anyway. Waylon had driven, so sneaking away wasn’t an option. Maybe she could hide in the locker room?—
“Hey, what’s the holdup?”
Frankie whirled around and faced Waylon .
In his swim trunks, with one of the tiny white towels draped around his shoulders.
Nothing else.
Good Lord. All those abs .
So many abs just abbing away on his abdomen.
“I…was going to buy a shirt,” she stammered.
“Then buy a shirt and let’s go. Come on, the water’s incredible.”
“They’re out.”
Waylon frowned and tilted his head. “Okay…so…?” He held his arms out like what’s the holdup ?
“I can’t…I should wear a shirt.” She looked down at herself. The scars. He hadn’t seen those. Would they show if she moved wrong and her suit shifted? She knew the port wasn’t visible under her clothes, and it wasn’t like Waylon didn’t know she had one.
But still.
“Why?” Waylon scoffed. “You’ve got a suit, right? You’re good.”
She blinked as she looked back up at him. She saw genuine confusion in his eyes, then watched it clear.
“You’re fine, Frankie.” He mock-punched her arm. “Come on, Adventure Buddy.” He turned, then said over his shoulder, “If you aren’t in the pool in five minutes, you’re buying me two dinners.”
Frankie grinned at his retreating back.
I keep telling other people not to treat me like glass, then I turn around and do it to myself .
“Ten minutes,” she called after him.
“Eight. Final offer.”
“Ugh. Fine .”
Frankie had about one minute left when she stepped out of the women’s locker room and into the hallway, towel clutched in front of her chest. Warm, steamy air greeted her. Her flip-flops clopped on her feet as she made her way down the hall leading to the pool area. It looked more like a botanical center than a pool room. Entire trees reached for the glass ceiling arching over the space— broad-leafed fig trees and skinny palms. Everywhere she looked was full of exotic greenery.
“Something else, huh?”
Frankie jumped and spun around. Then she tried to ignore the water beading on Waylon’s chest and the way his wet trunks clung to his…
Oh. Lord .
“Jeeze, do you always creep up behind people?” she asked him as she tore her eyes away from the obvious and sent them back up to his face.
Waylon laughed. “Well, that did used to be part of my job.”
“I’m not an enemy combatant.”
He tilted his head and pursed his lips while he stroked his chin as he studied her.
“Okay, I’m not that combative.”
Waylon broke into a grin as he shook his head. He jutted his chin out. “Come on. You won’t believe how warm the water is.”
She turned back around and clutched the towel tighter.
Waylon placed his hand on her shoulder and took a step forward. Frankie found herself walking beside him under the encouraging weight of his hand. They went to one of the poolside tables. Waylon pulled the towel from around his shoulders and dropped it on the table.
The moment of truth .
Frankie gave her shield of a towel one last squeeze and set it down next to his.
“All right,” he said, gesturing toward the steaming blue water. “After you. You’re gonna love it, Pixie.”
He was right. She loved it. Loved the warm, silky water. Loved the jungle all around the pool. Loved the light streaming down through the curved glass ceiling.
But she mostly loved the way Waylon didn’t make a big deal about her body while at the same time not making a big deal about not making a big deal about her body. It was simply not a factor. He treated her like, well…a buddy.
Which was fine. Totally fine. Yup, she didn’t want anything more than that. Certainly not an actual boyfriend.
Just Buddies.
On the ride back from Idaho Springs, Frankie and Waylon talked about the other Buddies, who they got to know during dinner and beers at the local brewery without the distraction of hiking or ziplining. They were all really cool people. One woman was a nurse at the hospital. They also talked about Stephanie.
“Do you think she’ll ever bring Dr. Boyfriend along?” Frankie asked.
Waylon yawned before answering. “I doubt it. They’ve been dating for a couple of years, but I’ve never seen him. Have you?”
“Nope. All I know about him is that he treats her like a queen and he’s younger.” Frankie grinned and said, “Cougar,” which got a chuckle out of Waylon.
The rest of the ride passed quietly, but it was a comfortable quiet. Frankie felt completely relaxed, her body had that pleasant heavy feeling from spending time in the water. Waylon seemed relaxed, too, humming along with the radio whenever a song he liked came on. So different from the scowly, uptight guy she’d met a week ago.
It was dark when Waylon parked at the curb in front of Frankie’s house. Frankie reached for her bag, but something in the air stopped her. A sudden, strange heaviness between them.
“Well, that was fun,” she said lightly, trying to break the heaviness.
“Yeah, it was.” Waylon’s voice was softer than usual. “You did great out there, Pixie.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “You’re not gonna let that nickname go, are you? ”
“Not a chance.” He grinned, but it faded quickly as his eyes dropped to her mouth—just for a second. His gaze flicked back to hers, and Frankie’s breath caught.
For a brief moment, she thought—no, felt—that he might lean in. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as the world around her seemed to telescope down to just the truck. More precisely, to the two of them sitting in the dark. She scooted toward him.
But then Waylon shifted in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, uh, I should walk you to the door, then head home. Long day.”
Frankie blinked, feeling the spell break with a little stab to her heart, and nodded quickly. “Right. Thanks for the ride, Buddy, but I think I can find my way to the front door by myself.”
“Nope. I’ll walk you.” Waylon was already opening his door. He stepped out of the truck and abruptly stopped. He looked toward her house.
“Way—”
He held up a finger. A moment later, he asked, “Do you have a burglar alarm?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes.” Then she heard it—a faint, high-pitched whine coming from inside her house. Her heart dropped into her stomach.
“Connected to the police?”
“Should be.” But where the heck were the police?
“Stay here.” Waylon reached for something under his seat, then slammed his door and sprinted around the front of the truck toward the house. She watched him through the truck window, her stomach twisting with every second that passed.
Waylon’s movements were swift and precise as he approached Frankie’s porch, his body low and his head on a swivel, scanning the surroundings like a predator tracking prey. Every step he took looked deliberate, his focus unshakable. He didn’t just look at the house—he analyzed it.
Frankie wondered again where the police were. The station wasn’t far away. The time she’d accidentally set the alarm off, she’d gotten a call from the security company almost immediately and the police had arrived within five minutes. She grabbed her phone and unlocked it. No calls. What the hell?
Did someone just break in? Were they still in there?
Was it Derek?
Ignoring his order to stay put, Frankie grabbed her keys, then slipped out of the truck. Crouching, she got halfway across the front yard when Waylon shot her a sharp look over his shoulder and raised his hand to halt her.
“I told you to stay in the truck.” His commanding tone was low, calm, and controlled, keeping her panic in check.
“Are you kidding? I’m not letting you do this alone. What if someone’s still in there?”
Waylon exhaled hard through his nose. “Dammit, Pixie. Back in the truck now. ” He turned his attention back to the front door and the windows. The curtains were drawn and nothing on the porch indicated a break-in. No broken glass, no signs of forced entry. Maybe they’d gone in through the back door.
“Truck, Frankie. Don’t make me say it again.”
Frankie bit her lip as she stood her ground, her phone clutched tightly in one hand, thumb ready over the emergency call button.
“No fucking way. I’m not leaving you.”
He shot her a look of pure fury. “You’re safer in the truck than with me.”
“I’m not worried about my safety, I’m worried about yours.”
Fury turned to confusion. Something bright and painful to see flashed in his eyes, something that hurt her heart on his behalf.
“Please. Go.”
She tossed him her keys. He caught them with one hand and that’s when she saw the gun in his other.
“Go,” he growled again, then headed for the porch steps.