Chapter 18
Libby glanced up the road. Karim had found a stick and was drawing swirls along the dirt track. The same dirt track they’d been on for nearly an hour, even though they were barely two hundred feet closer to the beach. She could still see the Cabins.
“This is a dog,” Dan was saying. He’d found his own stick and, much to Karim’s delight, had been drawing animals in the dirt.
Obviously, her answer to his moving in again had been a big, fat yes!
Having Dan as a roommate made financial and logistical sense, especially as they’d be working together now.
She didn’t quite know what to make of their renewed friendship.
Being friends with him was like being on a roller coaster.
Full of ups and downs and swirls in her stomach.
But she didn’t mind the swirls one bit. They were exciting.
Adrenaline pumping. Their work together would really give her channel a massive boost. Ads and sponsorship money would be coming in, and she’d also have some adult company.
She liked being friends with Dan and pushed the ugly argument they’d had the other night out of her mind.
She’d understood his anger. His vulnerability.
And she’d work hard for him in return so that he wasn’t hounded by those reporters who’d so clearly made him miserable.
And if he was serious about doing the cooking and household chores while she worked, then hell yeah, she’d be a fool to turn down his offer.
“We have lots of work to do,” she’d told him earlier. “Don’t think you’ll be slacking off after you’ve done the dishes and I’ve put Karim to bed.”
He’d saluted her. “No, ma’am.”
His silly attempt to sound American had made her giggle. “Let’s go, soldier. We’ve got work to do.”
Although they hadn’t actually expected to start on that work yet. Not while her baby was awake.
Shuffling up the ground now, Karim scrubbed out Dan’s animal etchings with his feet.
“All dirty,” he said, looking at his dusty legs.
“Let’s go for a swim then, honey. That’ll wash it off.
” She edged the stroller toward him. But of course, he wanted to push it, although at least they were now heading in the right direction.
“He’ll wear himself out eventually,” she side-whispered to Dan.
“As soon as he naps, I’ll get my camera out. ”
Half an hour later, they were on the tarmacked road that led to the harbor.
In between playing with Karim, Libby went through a social media plan with Dan. He approved of most of what she was saying but was cagey about anything to do with his future, which would make up the bulk of the content for Part Five.
“I’m not ready for that yet,” he said.
Suspecting that he still didn’t know what he’d be doing when he returned to England—and respecting that he was still coming to terms with the injuries that had abruptly ended his career—Libby let the subject drop.
A little farther along, Dan pointed to the side of the road, among the mossy rocks that lined the edge of the forest. “Hey, look, it’s a land crab. And there’s another one.”
“Oh, look, honey. Can you see?”
As their eyes settled on the craggy undergrowth, they pointed out more land crabs, perfectly camouflaged—until they moved.
And with Karim trying to pick one up, they were moving quite a bit.
“Hold it, crab,” he kept saying. “Crab.”
“You can’t hold them, honey. They’ll nip you.”
But eventually, Dan caught one. Gently holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he bent to Karim’s level.
“You can only touch it from behind so its pincers won’t get you.
” The crab was stone colored, with patchy dark-green bits on its back and legs, the exact colors of its surroundings.
“I bet your mum can tell you everything about these crabs.”
“Not yet, I can’t,” Libby said. “But give me five minutes on the internet later, and I’ll learn all about them.”
“Is that what you always do?” Dan asked. “Search things on the internet?”
“Absolutely. But I always verify and cross check my sources to make sure they’re genuine. There’s a lot of garbage out there.”
“You can say that again.”
“But I’ve spent my whole life wading through misinformation. I’m great at digging through the trash to reveal the truth,” she added, aware that they were no longer talking land crabs. “I won’t write or post anything that isn’t true about you. You have my word.”
He nodded. “I trust you.” Then he switched his attention back to her son and the crab. “Do you want to touch it, Karim? That’s it. Gently, with your finger. There.”
Karim squealed, delighted, his little grin too cute for words. Libby took a photo of them and the crab.
“Shall we put him back now?” Dan said. “Let’s watch him disappear.”
Released, the crab eased its body into a small crack between the rocks.
“Bye-bye,” Karim said, waving to it. “Nightie-night, sweet cheeks.”
Dan laughed, its spontaneity surprising her again. That was the second time today.
“What?” he said when he straightened and caught her smiling.
“Nothing.”
But there was something. And that something was big and glorious, standing right in front of her and playing with her child.
Dan Jones might be a roller coaster, but she was strapped in, safe and secure. Ready for the thrilling ride.
“Okay, we’re on, Cranky.” Libby sat on the harbor wall. Her legs, like Dan’s, dangled over the water.
After a picnic lunch, Karim had finally gotten into his stroller, and thanks to their busy morning, it hadn’t taken long for him to fall asleep.
He was now napping soundly in his stroller on the beach, just a few feet away, under the shade of some trees and in full view of where they were sitting.
Other than the occasional moped passing by, there was no one else around.
It was hot under the sun, but sitting here, Libby could frame Dan with the ocean behind him, keeping clues to where they were to a minimum.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Ready.” He rubbed his palms along his knees.
“We’re just two friends talking here. Just be yourself—without the foul language, eye rolls, and huffs.” Her sass earned her a half-smile and a quirk of an eyebrow. Gosh, he was fun to tease. She hit Record.
She got a few shots of the ocean, the swells that came into the harbor that licked the sides of the walls. She then focused on their feet, almost touching the water, before panning up Dan’s legs to hover briefly over his scarred knee—just like he’d requested.
“If that’s what they want to see,” he’d said, “let’s give it to them. You were right, Libby. I’ve won the battle.”
Go, Lightning Strike!
Libby had wanted to hug him but had kept a professional distance.
This was work, and she continued to pan her camera up his body, resisting the urge to linger on his chest and biceps.
He’d kept his T-shirt on—the scars on his shoulder would be revealed another time—but the gentle breeze was pressing the fabric against his pecs in the most enticing way.
Time to move up. To his jawline, set firm, and then his eyes as he looked down into the water.
“What drove you to become a champion?” she asked.
He kept his gaze on the water below. “A hunger for success.”
“Where do you think that hunger came from?”
“I must’ve been born with it,” he said, glancing briefly at her before looking away to where Karim slept.
She had half an eye in the same place. “All sports have a specific body type,” he continued.
“People are born runners, or swimmers, or gymnasts. I’ve got an ectomorph body shape.
I have big feet, and I’m tall. I have long legs, and I’m lean.
In other words, I’m built for sprinting. ”
But there was more to it than that. Libby held her camera steady.
“Physiology is one thing,” she said, “but the mental and psychological capacity for self-discipline and perseverance is completely another. You might have been born with optimum body parts for running, but when did you decide to make the most of them? How old were you when you committed to being the best?”
“Thirteen.”
Aw, man. She stopped recording and lowered her camera, recalling what had happened to him at that age. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to speak about your father’s death. Not if you don’t want to.”
So much for easing him into these interviews with something fun. Something that he’d delight in talking about. That’s why she’d asked him about his sport.
“It’s okay.” Dan straightened his shoulders. “I’m happy to talk about Dad. I want to talk about him.”
“If you’re sure…”
“The Real Daniel Jones, remember? That’s what we’re doing here, isn’t it?”
“Secretly, I’m kind of making it up as we go along. I won’t know how these interviews will shape up until we shoot all our footage. But don’t tell anyone. I’m meant to be a professional.”
Dan gave her a side smile. She liked it when he found her amusing. “Turn your camera on again, Libby. I’m ready.”
She pressed Record.
“So, you were thirteen…”
“Yeah, I was thirteen. I’d just lost my dad, and… I think it was grief that shaped me. It made me hungry for success. Not fame. Not money. Just success.”
“Having fame and money isn’t your definition of success?”
“No.” He looked at her. “Is it yours?”
Libby shook her head. “My definition of success changes all the time. When I had a newborn, success was making it through the day without being spewed on.”
Dan chuckled. “My idea of success has changed too. When I was a teenager whose life had been turned upside down, success meant being the absolute best that I could be. Six a.m., six days a week, rain or shine, I was either at the track or in the gym. I can’t imagine what it was like for my mother to watch how hard I drove myself.
” On a joyless laugh, he shook his head.
“Man, when I say I was hungry for success. I. Was. Hungry.” He blew out his cheeks.
“Mum said I took it to a whole different level. But she was just grateful I was addicted to the track and not something else.”