18. Chapter 18
Ascraping of furniture and a well-emphasized “Fuck!” woke me from an otherwise deep sleep. I jolted upright, trying to get my bearings in a bed that wasn’t mine, in a room that wasn’t mine, in a country that wasn’t mine, with a man who wasn’t mine. It took a few blurry-eyed blinks before I could make out Beck’s form in the dim room, a shoe raised over his head.
“What happened?” I mumbled, failing to make sense of Beck’s raised hackles and the way his eyes were trained on the floor.
Then I saw it. Something skittering in the darkness toward the bed. I lunged and smacked it with a pillow without knowing what I attacked. I raised my fluffy sword to hit it again, but Beck intervened, eliciting a fatal crunch when he smacked the thing with his shoe.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded.
“A fucking scorpion!” Beck tilted the shoe slowly to get a look at the mess. “It dropped out of my shorts.”
“Are you okay? Did it sting you?”
“No, but I am going to have nightmares about that thing crawling on my leg.”
“Did you leave your bag on the floor again?” I asked, my voice flat.
Beck pointed his shoe at me, and a piece of the scorpion fell off with the movement. “I don’t want to hear it, Lane.”
I couldn’t help the smug smile unfolding on my face. And just like that, it was easy to step into our usual cadence of banter. I could almost forget our heated moment in the humid rainforest, followed so quickly by his rejection. Almost.
“Because, you know, someone did warn you about that,” I said with a lilting voice.
Beck mumbled about needing to find something to clean up the mess.
I looked at the tint of the canvas that walled our yurt. The tangerine hue hinted that the sun had barely rolled its ass out of bed.
“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“A little after six. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He double-checked the inside of his shoe before slipping it on. “Go back to sleep. Barring any other wildlife attacks, I’ll be quiet.”
“What are you doing up?” I asked, my curiosity overriding the need for sleep.
“The others are going to the beach today,” he said like that explained everything.
“I know. I heard them talking about it last night when I went to take my shower.”
“I want to get out of here before the group wakes up so they won’t harass me about not going.”
I trod cautiously, knowing the topic hit a nerve. “Because you’re not a beach kind of guy?”
“Right,” he agreed, sounding tense.
I sat back on the bed. “So, what are you going to do?”
“There’s a trail about ten minutes from town with waterfalls and pools and a nature-made waterslide.”
“Cool, can I—” I started to ask if I could go with him, but then the sting of his rejection throbbed, reminding me to shut up before I could get hurt any further. “Never mind,” I said, laying back down and pulling the comforter to my chin. “Have a good time.”
“Did you—” Beck paused, and he seemed nervous, actually nervous, to finish the question. “Did you want to come with me?”
I lowered the blanket, if only by a little, not ready to relax my guard. “That depends. Do you want me to come with you?”
Beck looked away. “It’s selfish for me to ask you to come. This is your vacation. I know you looked forward to going somewhere beachy. You should be with the group, enjoying yourself.”
I did sit up at that. “I was looking forward to the beach, Beck. I had a great time with the group the other day.” I swallowed. Time to be brave. “But it didn’t compare to the hike with you yesterday. Didn’t come close.”
Beck turned back, reading me with those brown eyes, looking for a lie, but he would only find sincerity. “Emily Lane,” he said, “would you like to see the jungle with me today?”
“Sure,” I replied, throwing the blanket off. “Someone has to save your ass from the scorpions.”
The park in Uvita enchanted me just as much as the one in Manuel Antonio had, with its tangle of trees, white-faced monkeys, and the gush of water that could be heard below not long after we began our descent. Down, down, down we trekked, holding onto the wooden railing as the stairs plummeted through the greenery.
At the office, I’d take the elevator if it could save me two flights of stairs. Here, I worried the descent would be over too soon.
The whole trip would be over too soon. Three of the seven days had already passed. By the end of today, the vacation would be half over. My stomach sank at that.
I should have been thankful. I’d done so much. Seen so much: sailed over turquoise water, sunbathed on a white-sanded beach, explored a rainforest teeming with life.
Then there were the moments with Beck: him pulling me from danger with the snake, having dinner and learning more about him in that hour over gallo pinto than I had with months at the office; the dancing—God, having him take control and grip my body; and then that kiss.
I ached for what could have been last night—if Beck hadn’t shut things between us down. But he was right. Pursuing this, us, was a mistake. This trip, my time with him, hell, even this crazy idea to pretend to be Hailey so I could play the part of the calligrapher—it was on borrowed time. All of it.
And when the trip ended, the lock would snick back into place, keeping me in the little box I’d created for myself. The prison I’d willingly crafted with the choices I’d freely and happily made.
Go to school for business—to keep myself safe.
Stay at the job I hate—to keep myself safe.
Keep things uncomplicated with a coworker, even though I’m already developing feelings for him—to keep myself safe.
Leave calligraphy as a business for those who were more daring—to keep myself safe.
In the end, my safety net had become just that: a net. And I didn’t know how to cut myself free from it, not without letting my life crumble apart in the process.
We rounded a bend, and the waterfall came into view. Water slipped past moss-covered rocks to thunder into a pool below.
I watched as a man in a red speedo used the waterfall to slide off the cliff. He jackknifed into the natural pool below, only to surface and join his laughing friends on the other side.
How did this enclosed oasis exist? How was it that people were out here living their lives so fully while I shied away from any sort of risk?
This vacation wouldn’t be enough to satiate my new cravings. It would only serve as a reminder of what I had missed out on. The realization was barbed.
Beck said something, an eager look across his face, but I couldn’t hear him over the roaring of my mind. He did a double take before his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
I waved Beck off, hastily wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. I went to step around him, but his hands paused me with a gentle grip on my shoulders.
“Lane, stop. Are you hurt?”
“No. I just—” I groaned. “Can we keep moving? I really want to get closer to the waterfall.”
I tried to push him off, but he held firm. “Tell me what’s going on, first.”
“You’ll laugh at me,” I said, trying to cover my eyes, but Beck grabbed my wrists.
“Emily.” His soft tone threw me off guard. I stopped fighting him and looked into his searching eyes. “Please, trust me with this,” he said, lobbing back at me as I’d asked him to do yesterday.
I could have confronted him about not trusting me with his secrets. But for some reason, I wanted to tell him. I wanted someone to see me and the hurt, to understand. Even if that someone was Beck. Maybe, especially if that someone was Beck.
“I forgot what this felt like,” I managed.
“Taking the stairs?” he teased, but his tone and expression were all concern. The look made my heart swell.
“To feel alive,” I choked on the last word but took a steadying breath. I needed him to understand. “Not only the hike. All of this. The trip. The calligraphy.” And before I could stop the snowball from getting bigger, it rolled over my resolve. “You.”
And on that one word, I cracked. I worried Beck would make fun of me for being dramatic and crying, or he’d shy away from my admission of feelings for him. So it surprised me when he pulled me into his chest and held me tight.
The protectiveness, the care in Beck’s grip, made my chest ache in an entirely different way. I melted there, hot tears soaking his shirt. He didn’t try to cheer me up, urge me to look on the bright side, or quiet me down. He just rested his head on mine and rubbed calming circles between my shoulder blades.
I don’t know how long I stood there crying or how many other tourists Beck had to assure could go around us, and that, yes, I was fine. His tone never hinted at impatience or embarrassment over his emotional hiking buddy.
But as suddenly as the crying had come, it dried up. “I’m sorry,” I said, peeling myself from his solid chest. “I don’t know what came over me. Oh, God, I soaked your shirt.”
“Don’t apologize. I thought we established that I don’t have some weird obsession with shirts.”
“Sorry.” I laughed a little, wiping my face. “I spent so long thinking you hated me over a shirtsleeve. It’s going to take a while to rewrite that narrative.”
“I can wait.” We walked quietly for a bit before Beck asked, “Are you okay?”
I shrugged. Then, I decided to target one of the problems—specifically, one of the problems that didn’t include my feelings toward him. “I’ve been so looking forward to a vacation, and now I’m here, it’s better than I could have imagined. All I can think about is how this will be over in a few days. Then it will be back to that cubicle—behind cell walls.” I stopped, realizing how dramatic I sounded. “I don’t mean to whine. Everyone feels this way on vacation.”
“Emily, everyone feels that way to a certain degree. But you shouldn’t be dreading work so much that it keeps you from enjoying everything else. That’s a problem. You look like you are heading for a root canal every time you step off the elevator at the office. Why are you at The Arlow Group if you obviously hate it?”
“Have you ever considered it’s the people I work with,” I said with a hip bump. I wanted to turn the conversation around, missing the lighthearted air of our morning together.
But Beck wasn’t having it. “Come on, seriously.”
We’d reached the bottom of the stairs and made our way over slippery rocks to a shallow part of the nature-made pool. I plunked down, taking my shoes off with a little too much attitude.
“What do you want me to say, Beck? That I’m miserable at the trade I spent thousands of dollars in college loans to learn? That I’m fucking sick of Excel? That I’ve only been at the job for five years, and I’m already burnt out?”
“Yes. I want you to say those things because you have an out.”
“I don’t.” I slipped my feet into the water and watched the ripples. “I really don’t.”
“Why not quit? Focus on calligraphy. You could take on more jobs that way. Let it be your bread and butter.”
“Because I can’t, Beck.”
“I need you to help me understand why. I know what my sister is paying you for this wedding. It’s more than I make in a paycheck, and it’s just one wedding.”
“I’ve told you all this already. I can’t give up a stable job to pursue something flimsy. My mom tried that, and look what happened to her. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of restless sleep in a stuffy van with no air conditioner, my stomach hollow and rumbling. How every sound outside the van’s doors would send a surge of fear down my spine. I would never do anything to risk going back to that place, to feeling like a starved animal.
We sat quietly for a long while, swishing our feet in the water until Beck finally spoke again, low and careful. “I mean no disrespect to your mom, but Emily, you are too detail-oriented to let something like that happen. Tell me you don’t watch your account like a hawk. That you don’t have a padded savings account? That you don’t have a budget to keep you in check.”
He had me pegged, but I knew the fear would always act as a gatekeeper to what could be. “I’d rather play it safe.”
“Okay, then play it safe. But don’t stay at The Arlow Group.”
“Trying to get rid of me, are you?” I asked, looking to find that easygoing, jovial place we usually frequented together. But, again, it was a bust.
“I don’t want you to feel stuck. That’s a dangerous place to be. You have options. Maybe you just need to get out of that place. Hell, be a greeter at Walmart to support yourself while you get into calligraphy. Or wait tables. Something. Anything. But do me a favor and go somewhere you’re appreciated. We both know you should have gotten my job, but they hired out instead. It’s bullshit.”
“It is bullshit,” I agreed. “But it would have been a shame if they hadn’t.”
The air between us seemed to get thicker, like someone turned up the humidity. “Because we wouldn’t have met?” Beck finally asked.
I threw a pebble into the water to give me something other than his face to look at, sure my cheeks had turned strawberry red. “Yeah,” I said. “And then I’d never have gotten this free vacation.”
Beck threw his head back in contagious laughter. “Speaking of this vacation,” he said after regaining his composure. “It’s time to upgrade this experience.”
He pointed to a woman sliding down the waterfall with an elated scream, then peeled his sweaty shirt off. And damn. I’d seen him shirtless plenty of times at the gym’s pool. Why? Why did the sight of his chest and those abs and that line of hair trailing from his navel still make my insides feel like cotton candy being stretched too thin?
“Wait,” I said, my brain groggy from lust. “You’re going in?”
“Well, yeah,” he said, like duh.
“But it’s a body of water . . . that’s outdoors . . . I don’t know. I’m trying to understand your rule. So, it’s just beaches you avoid?”
Beck nodded, jaw tight. “Just beaches.”
“Have fun, I guess,” I said, leaning back on the rock, content to lay out like a lizard while watching him enjoy his adrenaline rush.
“Oh no, no, no. We are taking the plunge, Lane.”
Before I knew it, Beckett Atteridge had persuaded me off that rock, and I found myself at the bottom of a cliff, ready to climb iron rungs.
“Wow,” I said, grabbing the first of the rungs, which looked like giant-sized staples hammered half-assed into the cliff. “I’m so glad I decided to come with you today instead of going with the group to the beach,” I called out flatly. “Such a peaceful getaway.”
Beck halted his climb to look down at me, clearly amused by my discomfort. “I never promised a serene hike.”
“If I die, donate my pen collection to a local school.”
“Great idea. I’m sure teachers would make good use of your Bics.”
I snorted.
“If you weren’t so locked in on being dramatic, you’d see that we’re almost there.”
We were nineteen rungs up. I looked back, and the ground seemed to waver. I couldn’t even see the faces of the people in the pool. Normally, heights didn’t frighten me. But if I slipped or if one of these rungs came loose, I’d shatter a leg on the rocks. Possibly worse.
Beck, who’d already made it over the top, peeked back down to see me clinging to a rung.
His expression turned serious. “You’ve almost got it. Just don’t look down.”
“Too late,” I said, but I managed to make my arms and legs move and finished the climb.
With sure hands, Beck ushered me away from the edge. “See. Not so bad. Right?”
“Now we only have to jump off this fucking cliff we just climbed,” I said, eyeing the rushing water warily.
“No,” Beck said, “we only have to sit and let the water push us off the cliff.”
“Oh great. That’s so much better, letting Mother Nature push me to my death.”
“Look,” Beck said, hands resting on my shoulders. “You might be able to climb back down the rungs if no one is coming, but I think slipping on the way down is more of a threat than sliding into a body of water.”
I paled.
“And this way will be infinitely more fun,” Beck said in an almost sing-song voice.
I gave him a face, ready to tell him that I’d meet him at the bottom, that I’d take my chances on the rungs. But then I remembered I was supposed to be trying on Hailey’s life. She wouldn’t think twice about a jump like this. She wouldn’t analyze it. She would jump. And seeing as I only had a limited time to enjoy this life Hailey had loaned me . . .
I walked over to the rushing water, heart in my throat.
“That’s it,” Beck encouraged. “I’ll be right after you.”
“Wait. You’re making me go first?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Why?”
“Because I know I’m going to make the jump. I’m afraid you are going to chicken out and get stuck up here.”
“That could be an option, though, right? Staying up here for the rest of my life. Living with the monkeys.”
Beck guided me by the elbow to where the water was a gentle stream. I sat down but couldn’t make myself move into the rougher water, to the part that would push me over the edge. “Emily,” Beck said, and I felt myself lock onto that voice, a deep calm in all the panic. “Sometimes you just have to jump and hope for the best.”
Before the fear could paralyze me, I took a steadying breath and then pushed myself into the rushing water.
I screamed as it carried me forward until I was hurdled over the cliff and free-fell toward the water. And somehow, the flip in my stomach turned my scream into a burbling laugh. At the last second, I tucked my limbs in for a safer plunge into the water, the rush of which was a shock of its own. As I emerged at the surface, the thought of Beck being greeted by the cold water had me laughing again.
And sure enough, as soon as I made it a safe distance away, I heard him hollering and laughing before the splash of water and a wave that propelled me forward.
“Jesus!” Beck gasped, joining me with a few strokes. “How is the water this cold?” He shivered.
I laughed, and the action made me sink into the water a bit. Beck grabbed my arm to help me until I could tread again. His hand’s touch was so warm compared to the water around us. While finding a good rhythm for treading, I accidentally sent my body into his, my bikini-clad chest colliding with his bare torso.
My skin seemed to electrify at the point of contact, the cells swarming and coming to life. Beck’s slippery, wet body against mine. It was too much. And the heaviness in his expression was confusing because he’d told me, just the night before, how he didn’t want to pursue this—me.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, then rushed to pull away and put distance between us.
“Why are you apologizing?” Beck said, jogging lightly to catch up to me. Because once my toes met the muddy bottom, I all but bolted to the edge of the pool. He grabbed my hand, and I turned to face him. Ready to get the conversation over with, to rip it off like a Band-Aid.
“I’m apologizing because I’m not trying to disrespect your boundaries,” I said, slipping my hand out of his. “Because you made yourself clear about how you feel about me.”
“Have I, Emily?” he asked, the picture of calm.
“Yes. When you said you didn’t want to act on certain desires. Or the way I could only convince you to come to bed last night was by building a freaking pillow fort between us. And I know you and Reagan . . .” I pushed wet hair out of my face. This was so humiliating. “It’s okay. Seriously. Let’s drop it.”
“No. We aren’t dropping this. When I told you I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, that wasn’t bullshit. I didn’t ask you to come to Costa Rica to seduce you. I asked you here because you seemed like you could use a break. The last thing I want is for you to leave here with regrets, to feel less like yourself around me when we go back to sharing a lane or working together.”
I thought of what he’d told me about Reagan, about how she’d told him she didn’t feel like herself when they were together. “I’m not her, Beck. I’m not Reagan.”
“I know,” he said too quickly. “But still, you were right. We shouldn’t complicate things.”
“But that’s the problem, Beck. They are already complicated. Tell me you can sit across from me in meetings and you won’t think about this trip. Our dance. That kiss. It’s too late.”
Once again, conflict danced in his eyes. Had misery ever looked that beautiful on anyone else? “So, what do we do?”
I swallowed. “We jump. And hope for the best.”