Chapter 20 #2
Tate’s hands curled. He heard his mother inhale beside him. “You came over here to tell me she’s good at her job?”
Damian’s smile faltered. “I came to say she’s…special. And—look, when somebody sees like that, you don’t shut them down. You let them flourish.”
“Does flourishing mean you risk their lives?” The words tumbled out. “Because the picture’s worth it?”
“Of course not.” Damian’s palms lifted. “I mean, we mitigate risk?—”
“An angry man lost control of his emotions and nearly got people killed,” Tate snapped.
The world went very still in his ears. “And now you’re here to tell me that we should all let Scottie flourish?
Why don’t you tell me how you’re going to do everything in your power to alleviate risks and prevent a terrible tragedy from happening again? ”
“I didn’t ram anything.” Damian swallowed. “That wasn’t me at the wheel. That vessel wasn’t contracted to participate in the shoot.”
“But you’re the one praising the outcome.” Tate felt anger roar to life. “The way you’re talking, it sounds like the art is worth whatever it costs.”
Damian heaved out a sigh. “The work matters to her. It’s not just art, it’s how she functions. You know that.”
“I know she’s a person.” Tate’s voice dropped, rough. “Not a camera with legs.”
Damian flinched, then nodded slowly. “Fair. She’s a person. And she chooses the hazard, Tate. Not because I’m pushing her. Because it’s who she is.”
And there it was—the part that hooked right into Tate’s fear and tugged hard. Choice. Not just his father’s. Scottie’s. He wanted to wrap her in Bubble Wrap and call it love. He hated that Damian recognized something true about her.
Damian tried again, softer. “You think I value the wrong thing. That I’d put a shot over safety.
I wouldn’t. Not anymore.” He scrubbed a hand over his haggard face.
His eyes were rimmed red with lack of sleep.
“I’ve seen enough close calls to know the math.
But I also know Scottie—she’s not careless, man. She’s brave.”
Maybe that’s what bothered Tate most. He was angry because Damian was praising the very thing that scared him. He was angry because some part of him loved that part of Scottie too—the eye that found truth and didn’t look away.
Damian shuffled, shoved his hands into his vest pockets. “For what it’s worth, I told the network we’re not rolling again out there. Not after this. We’ll cut around it. We’ll make the story we have.”
“You did?”
“I did.” Damian glanced toward the parking lot, then back. “Because she matters more than an episode. I should’ve said that first.”
“You buried the lead for sure.”
Damian cleared his throat. “I’ll get out of your hair. If you see her before I do, tell her I—tell her I’m glad she’s okay.”
When he walked away, Mom slid her arm around Tate’s waist.
“You all right?”
“No.” He surprised himself with the honesty. “But that conversation confirmed what I need to do.”
“Good.” She gave him a squeeze. “Go do it.”
The orange wind sock lashed to the pole at the far end of the airstrip whipped and snapped in the late-September air.
Scottie tugged her beanie lower over her ears and shoved her gloved hands into the pocket of her down vest. The runway, composed of two gray stripes slicing through tall grass bleached gold, filled the frame of her camera.
Mountains nearby held a sugary dusting of new snow on their peaks.
A cloudless pale-blue sky offered the ideal backdrop for today’s shoot, but the sun offered almost no warmth.
They’d traveled forty-five minutes from Redemption for the final day of filming for Ultimate Alaskan.
With snow in next week’s forecast, Scottie was especially glad Damian had insisted they wrap up production sooner than planned.
Not that she disliked snow. She just didn’t relish the thought of filming in it.
Audience participation had eliminated almost all of the contestants.
Only Elise and Theo remained, vying for the title.
“Okay, people, let’s get this B-roll done,” Damian called, clapping his hands. “Wheels up in twenty.”
“What?” Scottie glanced at Tabitha standing nearby, shivering, her legs wiggling. She clutched her iPad.
“Go with the flow, girlfriend. New plan.”
Scottie glanced at her coworkers, all bundled in parkas, standing beside a prop crate labeled Emergency Flares.
Theo grinned as if he’d opened the perfect gift on Christmas morning.
Elise wouldn’t make eye contact. Weird. And what were Lainey, Emma, and Caroline doing here?
Somehow they’d popped by with a catered lunch.
And now they stood a few feet away, heads together, as they chatted quietly. Interesting.
Damian’s radio crackled. He took several long strides away, then turned his back to Scottie.
“Roger that,” he said.
Hmm. Something was up. Shivers raced along her spine as she turned in a slow circle, assessing the light.
Four months ago, things had gone sideways in Arizona.
She’d managed to bounce back. Then a few weeks ago, a bear in the river plus a collision with an RV had amplified questions about workplace safety.
Then the catastrophe on the fishing boat had nearly ended the whole show.
Due to some clever finagling on the part of the attorneys, and an admission of guilt from the captain of the seiner that rammed into them, Damian had been cleared to move forward with the finale.
They’d earned record-high ratings after the most recent episode aired.
She’d be relieved when this was all finished.
Maybe a soundstage in Studio City was exactly what she needed for her next gig.
Not that it mattered. Where she went next was anyone’s guess and completely up to her because she hadn’t spoken to Tate since their ugly encounter in the hospital last week.
Boy, what she wouldn’t give to redo that conversation.
Her stay in Redemption had reminded her of an essential truth she’d tried so hard to outrun. Her mother had been right. Even when her life didn’t look the way she’d thought it would, God was with her and He was for her. Always. Somehow He’d equip her for whatever came next.
A propeller drone rose, then slow and steady, a single-engine white Cessna with a red stripe came into view. Scottie tracked it, mentally framing shots. The wings glinted in the sun. Something rippled behind it, a long white tail. Conversation around her grew louder.
“Look at that.”
“Whoa, check it out.”
“Hey, Scottie!”
Everyone shaded their eyes, phones tilted skyward like flowers opening in the sun.
A banner unfurled.
“Scottie, you make my heart soar.” She read the words slowly. “Oh,” she said, and splayed a gloved hand across her chest. Wait. Had she imagined that?
A chorus of whoops broke out. Then someone squeezed her arm. Scottie glanced at Lainey beside her, eyes bright with tears.
“I told him no fireworks.” Lainey sniffed. “Hope you like this.”
“What?” Scottie’s heart hammered as she tried to make sense of what was happening. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s my man,” Theo said, his voice booming across the airstrip as he clapped his hands.
“Don’t worry, we got pictures,” Emma called out.
The hum of the plane faded as it flew out of sight.
Scottie shook her head. “I-I have no words.”
“Wait, show’s not over,” Damian said. “Eyes up.”
Scottie followed his directions. This next plane flew a little faster, the buzz from its engine much deeper. It banked and leveled, then dark specks fell from its belly.
“Damian, am I supposed to be filming this?” Scottie yelled.
“Just enjoy the experience,” Damian said, grinning.
Right. Okay. A parachute snapped open, a blossom of red and white.
The canopy filled, lifted by the wind. A pair of people, smudges of black and blue, floated down to the earth.
Scottie recognized Tate, even wrapped in gear at this distance.
She knew the slope of his shoulders, the way he held his head.
Her knees went loose. Warmth shot through her. First the banner, and now Tate.
When the skydivers’ feet touched the ground, everyone cheered.
They landed with a skid and a bounce and a running stumble.
Scottie’s heart flipped right along. The chute collapsed behind them with a sigh.
Clips unsnapped. Laughter floated on the air.
Then the instructor thumped Tate’s shoulder.
Tate peeled off his helmet, pushed his goggles onto his forehead, his hair all flattened and ridiculous.
Scottie turned to look at Lainey, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Did he jump out of a plane for me?”
“He sure did,” Lainey said, and she held up her phone and snapped a picture of Tate jogging toward Scottie.
He picked up speed. People parted. Then he stopped a few feet away, chest heaving, his cheeks pink from the cold and the wind. His eyes were the bluest she’d ever seen.
“Hey,” he said, grinning.
“Tate. You jumped out of a plane.”
“I did.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“No.” His expression grew serious. “Not exactly.”
She stared at him, struggling to find words. “I-I can’t believe it.”
“I know.” His eyes roamed her face. “That’s kind of the point. Remember when we were sitting on the porch that day and you asked me if there was anything risky I’d ever want to try? For fun?”
“And you were so stunned you choked on your words.”