Chapter 20
Charlie
Through my tears, I finally looked down at my heels. The skin had peeled away completely in places, leaving raw, weeping flesh. The right foot was worse than the left, but both were destroyed.
I wished I hadn't looked.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Mitch's head snapped up. "What the hell are you apologizing for?"
"For slowing you down. For not telling you sooner. For—"
"Don't." The word came out sharp, almost angry. "Don't you dare apologize for this."
Silence stretched between us. He looked away, his jaw working as if he was chewing on words he didn’t want to voice. "We'll figure something out." He finally spoke, but his voice lacked conviction.
He pushed himself up and moved to sit against the tree, tugging off his cowboy boots and socks.
"Don't you have blisters?" I asked.
"Nope." He grabbed the log from beside the fire and tossed it on. Sparks shot up into the darkness, scattering like fireflies before fading.
He stood again and walked back to the coolibah, crouching down to dig out another root. He cut two sections, prepared them the same way as before, and handed one to me without a word.
"Thank you," I said, taking it.
He grunted in response and settled back down next to me, close enough that warmth radiated from his arm to mine. We sucked on the roots in silence, the firelight dancing across his face.
My stomach rumbled, twisting with hunger pains so sharp my breath hitched.
Mitch glanced over, concern creasing his brow. "Sorry, can't help you with food. But at least it's not raining anymore."
"True." I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. "I don't think I've ever seen that much rain before. Do you often get storms like that out here?"
"Yep. The land switches from drought to flood and back again without warning. Nature can handle it. Humans, not so much."
"Well, I'd be happy never to experience that again." I adjusted my leg, and my heel grazed the ground. Pain lanced up my calf, and I sucked in a breath.
Mitch grabbed my ankles without asking and lifted both legs across his lap. "Keep them elevated, out of the dirt. You need air to dry out those wounds."
"Yes, doc," I said, attempting humor.
His expression didn't shift. The joke fell flat.
Silence settled over us, broken only by the crackling fire and the occasional pop of sap. The flames danced, and I was unable to look away. The night air was cooling fast now that the sun had set, seeping through my clothes despite the fire's heat.
At least my clothes were dry now. But I could already feel the chill creeping in around the edges of the warmth.
My thoughts drifted back to the violent torrent that had nearly killed us both. We were lucky to make it out alive. "Do you think Doug survived?"
"I doubt it."
He was probably right. Yet I still couldn't wrap my mind around him being gone. "Did he say anything before he fell?"
Mitch groaned, a sound somewhere between exhaustion and frustration.
I blinked at him. "What?"
"He didn't fall, Charlie."
I cocked my head, trying to understand.
"He let go," Mitch said.
I gasped. "What?"
"He said, 'I'm sorry.' Then, 'Tell my daughter I love her.'" Mitch's jaw tightened. "Then he let go."
"Oh my God." My chest constricted. "He wanted to die?"
Mitch fixed his gaze on the fire. "Don't know about wanting to die. But I guess he realized he'd gone too far." He picked up a stick and jabbed at the log, sending up another shower of sparks. "He was obsessed with those jewels."
The jewels. I'd forgotten about them.
A knot formed in my stomach as the question I'd been avoiding finally surfaced. I needed to know why Mitch had taken them. But would he tell me the truth? Then again, maybe the truth would be worse than not knowing.
I swallowed hard. "Why did you take the gems?"
He shifted against the tree, adjusting his position. Buying time, maybe. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the velvet pouch. He tugged the string loose and spilled the contents into his hand.
They caught the firelight. Emeralds. Rubies.
Sapphires. Diamonds that threw off sparks rivaling the flames themselves.
Thick gold bracelets. Dangly earrings that looked so damn heavy.
Rings with chunky gemstones. The colors danced across his calloused palm.
He picked up the gold chain, and the golden shield pendant spun in the firelight.
An ornate H dominated the shield's gleaming surface, crafted like an old family crest.
"I'm hoping these will help me identify that skeleton." He dangled the shield on the chain, watching it catch the light. "His family needs closure."
"Oh." Guilt punched through me. I'd been so certain he'd taken them for himself. "Well, maybe that H will give you some clues."
He captured the shield, turning it over in his palm. "Maybe. Though I have a feeling this jewelry is why he was killed." His voice went harder. "Greed is a bloody evil emotion."
I studied him, silently willing him to elaborate. The fire crackled. The darkness pressed in around us, deepening with each passing minute.
"Did you know about Doug's debts?" Mitch asked, rolling the massive diamond around his palm. "How much trouble he was in?"
I shook my head. "No. I didn't even know he had a daughter.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. "Do you really think he would've killed us?"
Mitch let out a heavy breath and was quiet for a long moment, turning the diamond over in his fingers. "I think he'd crossed a line he couldn't come back from."
"Jesus." I replayed those final moments, seeing the wild look in Doug's eyes. "He was actually going to kill us." The reality of it settled over me like ice water. "I still can't believe it."
"He'd been acting weird since the moment I met him." Mitch ran his hand over his beard. "Paranoid. Aggressive as hell."
"Yeah. He'd been acting weird for days. Since we set up our site, actually."
"Maybe because he knew he didn't have a permit to be here." Mitch shrugged.
Guilt twisted in my stomach. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you about that."
He cocked his head, studying me. His light green eyes were so unusual, like early morning mist. "I think you did believe me."
I let out a breath. "Yeah, I did. But before that, I honestly thought we had permission to be here. Doug told me everything was arranged."
"Seems like he had a lot of secrets."
"Yeah. Like you." The words escaped before I could stop them, and the instant they left my mouth, I wanted to yank them back.
Mitch went still. Then, shaking his head, he swept the jewels back into the pouch and pulled the drawstring tight.
"Sorry," I blurted. "I didn't mean it in a bad way."
"Really?" He shifted his weight, and I had the feeling he wished my legs weren't across his lap.
"Yes, really. When I asked you about the lighter, you gave me half an answer." I hesitated but pushed forward anyway. "There's a reason you keep it, isn't there?"
As he stared at the fire, flames danced in his eyes. The muscle in his jaw worked as if he were trying to swallow down a secret that was eating at him.
The air grew colder, and I gathered my hair over one shoulder, though it did nothing to warm me. I lifted my legs off his lap and carefully planted my feet flat on the ground, hyperaware of keeping my raw heels clean.
Mitch reached up and grabbed his torn shirt from the branch above us. He held it out to me. "Put your feet on that." The look in his eyes told me that refusing wasn't an option.
I took it from him, folded it over, and placed it beneath my feet. "Thanks."
He turned back to the fire.
The flames crackled and popped, warming my front while my back grew colder. An icy dampness crept up my spine, settling deep into my bones. But the silence settling over us felt worse than the gathering cold. I wished I'd never pushed him. It was obvious he had no intention of responding.
"So," I said, scrambling for another topic. "I guess your dad and siblings must be going out of their minds, wondering where you are?"
A low groan rumbled from Mitch's throat.
"What?" I frowned. Shit. It looked as though I'd hit another taboo subject.
Mitch rolled his eyes. "You don't give up, do you?"
"Never mind. We can just sit here and enjoy the peace and quiet."
Several heartbeats passed. The fire popped. He sat rigid, staring at the flames as though searching for answers. Finally, he cleared his throat. "You're right. There's a reason I always have a lighter with me."
My breath caught. I hugged my arms over my knees, trying to hold in what little warmth I had left, and waited.
"My old man locked me in the tool shed when I was eight or nine …
some bullshit punishment for something I can't even remember now.
He said I needed to learn what fear tasted like.
He was right about that much. I learned fear.
" He paused, his gaze never leaving the fire.
"Dingoes howled behind the shed all night.
Mice scurried across my bare feet in the pitch black.
That darkness had teeth, and I spent hours believing a monster was coming for me.
" His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, as if he were talking about someone else's childhood.
"Oh, God, Mitch. I'm so sorry."
"So, I swore that night I'd never be stuck in the dark again."
I wanted to reach for him, to touch his arm or his hand, to offer some kind of comfort. But I didn't know if he'd want that.
Instead, I shifted closer, closing the gap between us by inches. "Well, I'm grateful you have that lighter or I'd be even colder."
He glanced at me, and a flash of vulnerability crossed his face before he looked away.
My heart was getting dangerous, beating too fast and too hard.
This man, who'd been a stranger yesterday, who I'd suspected of theft and worse, had just peeled back a layer I hadn't expected. I found myself wanting more … wanting to understand the scars he carried that went deeper than the ones I’d seen on his body.
It was insane. We'd been thrown together by circumstances that had nearly killed us both, and here I was, drawn to him like gravity had shifted in his direction.
My teeth started to chatter embarrassingly loud in the silence.
"You're shivering," Mitch said.
"I'm okay," I lied, wrapping my arms tighter around myself.
"Come here." He shifted, opening up the space in front of him.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not." He put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me over his thigh. I dragged over his shirt to put my feet on again, and when I rested back against his chest, he wrapped his arms around me.
I stiffened. This was different from last night when I'd sat between his legs. Last night had been in the dark. With the crackling fire in front of me, this felt too intimate. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I couldn't tell if it was panic or something else entirely.
He pressed against my back, chasing away the cold that had burrowed deep.
My pulse raced as I slowly let myself lean into him.
"Warmer?" His breath was hot against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
"Yes," I whispered. "Thanks."
I couldn't remember feeling this comfortable in a man's arms. The answer was never.
This was different, the way he held me spoke of genuine care, not mere desire.
My last boyfriend, Trent, had been another paleontology student.
We'd spent so much time apart on different digs that our rare moments together turned frantic and desperate, two people racing toward physical release.
But that was all it had ever been. Sex. Nothing more.
Pure physicality without emotional connection.
We'd never loved each other. When our relationship fizzled after eight months, neither of us felt the loss.
Nothing compared to how Marcus had shattered my heart.
But this defied description. Something profound stirred between us, beyond words or reason. Which seemed insane, considering I barely knew Mitch.
"Will you relax?" It wasn't a question. It was a command, low and rumbling.
I forced my thoughts to quiet, and as my body sagged against him, all the tension drained out. His arms tightened fractionally, and I finally stopped shivering.
Yet as exhaustion dragged me closer to sleep, my thoughts circled relentlessly.
My career was over. Nobody would ever work with me again after this disaster. Would they believe Doug's death was an accident? Would they blame me? Would they blame Mitch? And had any of those precious dinosaur bones survived that flood?
The questions spiraled, and I couldn't stop them.
"Get some sleep, Charlie." His chin came to rest gently on top of my head.
"What about you?"
"I'll keep watch."
"Mitch, you need to rest, too."
"Sleep, Charlie. You'll need your energy tomorrow."
I wanted to argue and say we should take turns, that he was just as exhausted as I was.
But my eyes were already closing, my body surrendering to an exhaustion I couldn't fight anymore.
As sleep pulled me under, one final thought surfaced.
Nothing will ever be the same again.