Chapter 2
TRACE
When I pulled back onto the SERA campus, it was already dark.
After two days in the snowy backcountry and today’s six-hour hike through the snow and cold, I was past ready for a hot bath and sweet, milky tea.
Despite my high-tech gear, my toes and fingers were cold, and my face was feeling chapped from the wind.
It had been a gorgeous weekend for a solo trek over Devil’s Backbone. My body had finally settled after the shit week I’d had, and I knew as soon as I sank into the deep tub in my bathroom, I’d be fighting sleep.
Which was exactly what I’d been going for after the stress of a quasi-breakup and the challenge of SERA’s most recent SaR cohort. Both had left me irrationally angry and out of sorts.
The Slingshot Emergency Rescue Academy had been the love child of my obsession with search and rescue and my sudden need to move out of the Bay Area six years ago.
It had been the right decision, the necessary decision, but after weeks like this one, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if I’d stayed.
You couldn’t fucking stay.
I shuddered the thought away, deliberately replacing it with more productive ones, like what kind of tea I wanted with my bath, and whether or not I had a frozen meal I could nuke for dinner since the SERA cafeteria was closed between sessions.
But when I pulled past the other SERA buildings and into the gravel parking pad beside my cabin, I saw Patrick’s Jeep parked in my spot.
“Fucking Christ,” I muttered, throwing my truck into Park and resting my forehead on the steering wheel. “Fuck.”
I sucked in a deep breath, reminded myself of all the reasons Patrick and I didn’t work, and stepped out of the truck.
He was sitting in the shadows of my porch, his large, bulky frame shivering on the wooden swing. As much as I wanted to tell him to go the fuck home, the poor man looked miserable.
“Hey,” I said, tilting my head to the front door. “Want to come in and warm up?”
He nodded and stood. The lights from my truck were still on long enough to illuminate the tearstains on his stubbled cheeks.
I held my breath to keep from audibly sighing.
One of the things I’d liked about Patrick was the fact that the big guy was a teddy bear despite his huge, intimidating presence.
After opening the door and kicking off my boots, I shucked off several layers of gear and moved into the kitchen to start the kettle. “I don’t have any coffee,” I called back. “You want tea, hot chocolate, water?”
The only answer was a pathetic little sniffle before I heard him padding behind me into the kitchen. “I just want you.”
He leaned his forehead down onto the top of my head, but I shrugged him off gently. “That’s not happening,” I said as softly as I could. “Patrick, why are you here? We said everything we could have possibly said the other night.”
His eyes and nose were red. I resisted the urge to wipe his tears off with my thumbs and give him a big hug. This moment was for reconfirming our breakup, not being the one to give him comfort and affection.
“I want you to give me another chance. Give us another chance. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.”
I busied myself pulling mugs out of the cabinet and selecting a chamomile lemon tea for me and a hot chocolate packet for him. “I’m not going to have this conversation again. We already discussed it to death, and there’s nothing more to say.”
“But there is,” he cried. “You’re the first decent man I’ve met in years! I can’t stand losing you when I barely even had you.”
I inhaled carefully through my nose. “Maybe you need to find a way to meet more decent men,” I muttered. “Younger ones.”
“I’m a fucking lineman in small-town Montana, Trace. How the fuck do you suggest I meet decent gay men? And stop with the age bullshit. I’m twenty-eight. Hardly a kid. And you’re forty-six. Not an old man.”
The familiar sound of the hot water sloshing into my mug had a Pavlovian effect on my heart rate, calming me down as if the warm mug was already between my palms with its warm herbal aroma wafting up at me.
A conversation from six years ago tried nudging into my mind, one in which I’d sworn I’d never date anyone this much younger than I was.
“They need linemen everywhere,” I reminded him. “LA, Chicago, Atlanta… hell, even P-town.”
We both knew he’d never move out of Montana. He’d been born and raised in Joliet, and everything he loved was there.
Except maybe me.
Which was ridiculous. We’d only been seeing each other for four months when he’d dropped the L-word last week. Surely, four months wasn’t long enough to know you loved someone.
“I don’t need to move somewhere to meet a decent man, Trace,” he continued, his voice ragged. “I already found the one I want.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Did.”
I stirred the chocolate packet into his mug and handed it to him. “Sit.”
He immediately dropped into a chair at my kitchen table and took the mug with a grunt. I turned back to fix my tea.
After a moment, I felt his eyes on my back. “Why are you so scared of intimacy?” he asked.
“I’m not.”
“You are. As soon as people get close to you, you shut down.”
I slid the carton of milk back in the fridge and brought my tea to the table. The warmth against my hands wasn’t nearly as effective as I’d hoped. “You’re lashing out,” I said more calmly than I felt. “Don’t pretend you know about my previous relationships.”
He scoffed. “What relationships? You’ve been living in this area for years, and the longest you dated someone before me was a few months.”
“How do you even know that?” It wasn’t like he lived in Legacy. Joliet was thirty minutes from here. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’ve been busting my ass with SERA the past few years. There was hardly time for a relationship.”
He eyed me over his mug as he took the first tentative sip. When he set the mug down, he tilted his head. “I think you’re in love with Derek Marian.”
I barked out a laugh, the sound loud and unexpected in my quiet kitchen. “I’m definitely not.”
Patrick pressed his lips together in frustration. “Fine. Jude, then. And who could blame you? He’s hot. And sweet. And famous.”
I glanced up at the ceiling for a beat. “He’s all those things. He’s also a good friend. They’re both good friends. And I don’t want either of them.”
The truth was much more disgusting.
Because there was, in fact, a Marian I wanted. But he was jailbait. Or… he might as well have been when I’d first looked at him that way.
Wolfe Marian had been twenty-four when I’d first seen him as a man. As someone I wanted.
I closed my eyes and tried to get over the revulsion of it. Of wanting someone so incredibly inappropriate and young.
He’s thirty fucking years old now, the devil on my shoulder reminded me.
The devil on my shoulder was a horny bastard, always trying to make the argument for why it would be okay to pursue a man nearly seventeen years younger than me.
I’d gotten very good at ignoring him. Present company excepted, of course.
“You get weird every time you talk about them,” Patrick said petulantly. “I thought they were practically family to you.”
“Practically,” I agreed. “The Marians have been in my life a long time. Derek was the one who gave me a chance when my parents kicked me out. He got me a job with the security firm who sent me to SaR training. They invested in SERA so I could start a decade sooner than I planned. I owe Derek everything. Without him…” I couldn’t even imagine where my life would have ended up. In the gutter, most likely.
“Anyway,” I continued. “I do love the guy, but I’m not in love with him.” I rubbed my chin before adding gently, “And I’m not in love with you either. I’m sorry, Patrick.”
Another tear trailed out of one of his eyes, and my heart squeezed.
He was such a nice guy. A softie and a sweetheart.
He reminded me a little bit of Wolfe with his tender heart and his energetic youth.
And maybe that’s why I’d been attracted to him in the first place, even though he wasn’t at all like Wolfe physically.
“Give us more time,” Patrick pleaded. “So I said the L-word too soon. I take it back. Let’s just keep seeing each other like we were.”
I repeated what I’d told him earlier in the week.
“Even if I wanted to continue trying, I don’t have time to give you what you need right now.
My next student cohort arrives tomorrow, and it’s an intensive winter search and rescue session.
I’m going to be in the backcountry for several weeks after the classroom work. ”
“I can wait.”
I met his eyes. “I don’t want this. And that’s all I should have to say for you to respect my decision.”
He squeezed his eyes closed in a painful expression. “Fuck, Trace. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
I stood up and walked over to where he was before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m sorry, too.”
He stayed long enough to finish his hot chocolate, making awkward, stilted conversation that made me want to throw both stoneware mugs across the room. When I finally walked him out to the porch and into the frigid night, I was grateful for the cold.
It meant this awful interaction was almost over.
“Be safe on the road,” I murmured, rubbing my hands over my arms to keep the cold away.
Patrick turned and cupped my face before planting a long, devastating kiss on my lips. His mouth was warm, but not enough to take the chill off my heart. I wondered if anyone ever would.
“Take care of yourself, beautiful,” he murmured.
As I watched him drive away, a movement from the direction of the other SERA buildings caught my eye. A faint white vapor cloud in the trees as if someone had just exhaled.
“Hello?” I called.
A figure moved away from me, deeper into the tree line.
Who would it be at this hour, on this part of campus? There were only a handful of people around, and any of them would have reassured me with a simple response.
I quickly stepped back inside and shoved my feet into my boots before grabbing my parka and a headlamp from the hooks by the door.
After walking swiftly in the direction they’d gone, I moved through the trees and out into the larger parking area in front of the instructor cabins and main buildings.
The only reason I was able to identify the vehicle driving away was because the driver had to tap the brakes to make the turn on the shaded icy patch of the driveway there.
Dark green Land Rover.
The vehicle Jude and Derek used when they were in Legacy.
I returned to the cabin and found my phone to text Derek.
Were you just at SERA? Thought I saw the Rover.
Derek
No. We’re in San Francisco.
I stared at the screen, but before I could think of a polite way of asking if maybe his Montana vehicle had been stolen, another text popped up.
Derek
Was probably Wolfe. He’s in Legacy. Staying at Marian Lodge. Jude was supposed to go, too, but he woke up with a fever.
My heart did a little kick.
If Wolfe had been here, standing in the trees between the main parking area and my cabin, wouldn’t he have said something? If he’d heard me call out, wouldn’t he have let me know it wasn’t a stranger trespassing?
Then again, maybe not.
There was a time it would’ve been entirely unremarkable for Wolfe to drop by my place.
To spend an afternoon reading on my sofa while I worked on my laptop beside him.
To make me watch some stupid show I’d grumble about…
then get completely invested in. To take a walk along the Embarcadero, where we’d talk about everything and nothing.
But Wolfe hadn’t sought me out in six years. Not since I’d moved to Legacy to ensure he couldn’t.
Maybe I’ll stop by and say hi to him tomorrow.
Derek
He’s heading down to Majestic in the morning for a meeting.
I pressed my lips together until they hurt. It was for the best. I’d spent six years trying to avoid Wolfe Marian. This was fate telling me to keep at it.
My brain helpfully supplied images of all the times I’d failed and seen him anyway. Of how fucking beautiful he was, all dark hair and full lips. Of his moss-green eyes and now a crinkle over the bridge of his nose.
His great-aunt Tilly had always called him an “old soul,” and she was right.
Wolfe had been serious even as a child. Despite being well-loved and doted on, given every privilege, he carried an internal…
something… that showed clearly in his eyes.
Something that said he understood the world’s pain more acutely than other people.
I gritted my teeth against the sweet memories of Wolfe’s childhood that tried to crowd my mind.
My own shameful desires had ruined them. How could I have such soft, fond memories of a little kid… and also want to shove the gorgeous man that kid had become into the nearest wall and do filthy things to him?
I couldn’t. I shouldn’t.
I moved into the kitchen and threw both mugs into the sink with a terrible clank before moving to the freezer and pulling out the vodka.
Getting drunk wasn’t something I did often, but on bad nights when my brain insisted on remembering him as a child and also wanting him as a man, I became desperate for a need to escape thought completely.
Sometimes that was finding someone to fuck or trying to actually meet a nice man to date. Sometimes it was trekking miles through the snowy Montana winter.
And sometimes it was getting drunk while listening to music that made me cry like a baby.
I cued up my self-destructive playlist.
And took the first swallow of vodka as Lyra Vale began to sing about a man who would never be mine.