by E M Lindsey
He hated that he cared what Max thought. And maybe he wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for the sadness that loomed over Max like a little thunder cloud. Spencer didn’t know why he fluctuated between anger and sadness, but there was definitely a war going on inside him. And Spencer wanted to help. He did. And he hated that he did because Max would probably be better helped by someone like Collin who was older, hotter, English, and more experienced at literally everything.
Once the fire was roaring in the pit, no one spoke, each of them retreating into their heads. The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, though. It gave Spencer too much time for his thoughts to stray to how attractive Collin was. Tall and burly, ruggedly handsome with his dark hair flecked with grey. His presence made Spencer feel safe. Well, as safe as he could feel out in the wilderness.
Max, Spencer guessed, was slightly older than him. Older and obviously more cynical. And a jerk. A handsome one, but still a jerk. It sucked that Spencer was always attracted to men he had no chance with. Collin and Max looked like they belonged out here. They were at home in the open air and rustic backdrop. Spencer, on the other hand, ached from head to toe, he was riddled with bug bites, starving, and now he was getting cold.
He moved to a stump that sat even closer to the fire and sighed as the heat warmed the front of his shins. Collin handed him a plate and a fork—Spencer had no idea how the hell he carried all that in his pack—but he was grateful for it nonetheless.
“What’s your favorite song?” Spencer asked, breaking the silence. It had settled thick and angry between them, and as much as Spencer wasn’t enjoying himself, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He wanted this trip to not be the gigantic mistake everyone told him it would be. He wanted to have good stories to tell when he got back home.
Max scoffed and went back to eating. But Collin responded.
“Livin’ on a Prayer.”
Spencer grinned. “I thought for sure you’d pick something British.”
Collin almost smiled. “What, like the Sex Pistols?” He shook his head. “It was a rebellion of sorts. My brother hated American music, so naturally I sought it out.”
“I used to be sad that I’m an only child. I don’t think I am anymore.”
“What about you?” Collin gave him a real grin this time.
“Enter Sandman.”
“His highness has heard of Metallica?” Max’s question was rhetorical, and though he did call Spencer his highness, his bitter tone had lost its edge.
“Who hasn’t?” Spencer finished off the last of his dinner.
Unexpectedly, Max answered the question. “Katherine the Grateful. It’s by a group…”
“Knapsack.” Spencer interrupted.
“Right.” Max nodded, then abruptly got up from the fire and went to his tent.
“He’s in a mood,” Spencer huffed.
“There’s a bit of that going round. Must be in the air.” Collin gave Spencer a look, and fuck if that didn’t make Spencer want to move closer to him, like maybe into his lap.
Max returned to the fire and tossed a container at Spencer. He fumbled, but managed to hold onto it.
“What’s this?” Spencer turned the container over in his hands.
“S’mores.”
Spencer furrowed his brow and cracked the container open. He couldn’t help his cheesy grin, or his obvious glee. “I’ve always wanted to make s’mores.”
“You’ve never made them?” Max’s surprise was obvious.
“I’ve never done a lot of things.” Spencer hoped he didn’t sound pathetic.
Spencer didn’t notice that Collin had wandered off into the trees until Max stood and took a seat closer to Spencer.
“When Collin gets back with some sticks to roast the marshmallows on, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
“I could probably figure it out on my own,” Spencer tried to tamp down his defensive nature. “But thank you.”
The rest of the night was less awkward. Sort of. Spencer felt moments of it here and there when Max helped him make his first s’more. And again when Collin pointed out that he had marshmallow on the corner of his mouth.
He’d have stayed up longer, but the mosquitos were getting thicker, the air colder, and maybe it was the outdoor setting, or being close to two gorgeous men more suited to each other than they ever would be to him, but loneliness had crept up on him. It sank its icy claws into his heart. Spencer wanted to sleep off the effects of this horrible day, and getting the fuck out of his boots was a huge draw to turning in.
Spencer pushed himself to his feet and yawned. He stretched his arms over his head and let them fall to his sides with a sigh.
“I’m beat. I’ll see you two in the morning.” Unless he was eaten by a bear in the middle of the night. He probably wouldn’t be.
Probably.
Spencer climbed into his tent. With his air mattress blown up, there wasn’t a lot of room left for him in the small, one-man contraption, but there was enough to sit hunched over and pull his boots off. He slid into his sleeping bag and hoped that he would fall asleep fast.
He didn’t.
The next day was going to suck.
But after that, he could go home and his life would go back to normal again.
Chapter 6
Max has old boots
Max lay awake in his tent and stared at the point where the dark purple nylon stitched together. He reached up and swatted at the flap, letting it fall open. If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least look at the stars. Out here as far as they were, the lights twinkled brightly, even through the mesh screen.
His mouth tasted like marshmallows and chocolate and graham cracker, and he did his best to ignore the fact he’d packed the stupid s’mores kit to be shared with Trent. Max frowned. Trent wouldn’t have appreciated them the way Spencer had, and even though almost everything Spencer did annoyed him, Max couldn’t deny how it had made him happy to see Spencer smile as he made his first ever s’more.
This trip had been a terrible idea.
After Trent called things off, Max should have cancelled the whole thing, but he hadn’t because he was stubborn as a mule and he was probably going to die tomorrow trying to save Spencer from drowning.
Max sat up and stared at the zipped-up door to his tent.
He would definitely not die saving Spencer from drowning. If that little princess fell over the edge of the raft, saving him would solely land on Collin’s shoulders. Max wasn’t responsible for either of them, and he...didn’t want to be.
He rolled the idea around and frowned, lying back down with his hands folded together behind the back of his head. He lay like that until he fell asleep, not sure of how long that was, but he woke up with the sun in his face, shining bright through the top of his tent.
With a groan, he surged forward and unzipped the side, crawling out and stretching. He’d slept in sweats and an undershirt, and the cool air brushed against his skin. Collin was already awake, brewing coffee on a camp stove, his eyes lingering on the thin strip of skin over Max’s waistband.
Max dropped his arms and tugged down the hem of his shirt, and Collin quickly looked back at the coffee.
“Alright, Max? Sleep well?” he asked.
Max walked around the fire and sat down on the stump nearest Collin.
“Not the best, but it’ll do. You?”
“Always do when I’m camping,” Collin answered. “I love being outdoors.”
“Your back though?” he asked as his own twinged from the long night on hard ground.
Collin laughed softly. “I’m not that old. Not yet, anyway.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Max blushed.
“He’s dignified,” Spencer interjected from inside his tent. He unzipped it and fell onto the ground, then jumped into a standing position, brushing dirt and pine needles away from his legs. He was in coordinating pajamas, which didn’t surprise Max in the least.
“I’m what now?” Collin chuckled a
nd produced three blue and white speckled aluminum cups from his pack.
“Dignified,” Spencer said, managing to get himself onto one of the logs around the fire.
“That’s a nice way of saying old,” Max clarified.
Collin reached up and self-consciously touched the hair just above his ears. It was a little bit gray, but Max had thought it made Collin look attractive, seasoned….practiced. He shifted his weight and reached out to move Collin’s hand out of the way.
“You’re not old. It’s nice to be outdoors.”
Collin smiled, but it was fleeting. He poured three cups of coffee and passed them around.
“We have enough time to eat, but then we need to get on the trail,” Collin said.
“How far is it?” Spencer asked, and Max fought back a groan.
“Miles,” Max answered, thinking again about what he’d do or not do if Spencer tumbled into the river later today.
“Play nice,” Collin chided, frowning at him.
Max felt properly shamed by the look, and he took his coffee and swallowed a mouthful in silence.
“It’s three miles,” Collin said to Spencer. “But it’s a mild hike. You should be fine.”
“I know I’ll be fine,” Spencer said, matter of fact. “I bought a bunch of that moleskin stuff before I came so I just need to trim it up and put it over the spots on my feet that hurt. Or maybe this silicone blister stuff I got. The girl at the store said that would be best, but I wasn't convinced so I got bo…”
Spencer stopped speaking and licked his lips, his face and throat bright red.
“I’ll stop talking now,” he said, looking away from Max’s hard stare.
“Thank you.”
“Let’s eat,” Collin said, and Max looked down in shock at the plate Collin handed him. He hadn’t even noticed Collin preparing anything besides the coffee, but there were eggs there, which had no doubt just been made of powder, and a piece of dry toast.
“Thank you,” he said, shoving a bite of eggs into his mouth.
They tasted like watery cardboard, but he worked through the meal with minimal complaint. Spencer, on the other hand, griped and groaned before disappearing into his tent and coming back with a Clif bar and plastic container that looked like it had a protein shake in it.
“You brought your own breakfast?” Max asked, choking down another bite of eggs, wishing he’d had the foresight to have done so himself.
“Of course,” Spencer answered, like it was the most basic thing on the planet. “Don’t look at me like it’s some ridiculous thing. You brought a s’mores kit. Not even just the things to make s’mores, but a premade kit of s’more making ingredients.”
“He’s got a point,” Collin offered, and Max gave him a halfhearted glare.
Max shoveled the rest of the food into his mouth and shoved the plate back in Collin’s direction.
“I’m gonna take a piss.”
He wandered into the tree line, far enough from the campsite but not so far he’d get lost. He could still hear Collin and Spencer talking, the light lilting sound when Spencer laughed at something, and the rough rumble of Collin’s answer to him.
Max pissed and headed back to the campsite, forgoing the fire to go back into his tent. He dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, putting on a clean pair of waterproof socks before lacing up his boots. He put his sweats back into his bag and rolled his sleeping bag. He strapped it all together and tossed it out of the tent.
He sat back on the stump beside Collin and waited.
“D’you want more coffee, mate?” Collin asked, holding out the pot with a grin. “You look like you need it.”
Max let Collin refill his cup.
“I’m gonna do that then, too,” Spencer said, falling into an awkward silence upon Max’s return. He vanished into his tent without another word.
“You’re both beginners out here,” Collin warned him in a hushed tone, eyes darting between Max’s face and Spencer’s tent. “Stop trying to act like you’re better than him. Those boots you’re wearing were new once, too.”
Again, Max found himself feeling properly shamed.
"He's not going to get you killed, you know." Collin rolled his eyes at him. "If the trail or river were that dangerous, I wouldn't take newbies."
"I thought nature was unpredictable."
"Within reason. My dad and brother were doing these tours years before I got here, and no one’s ever died. You’re both going to be fine," his voice dropped into an even deeper rumble as he leaned in and pressed his hand to his heart. “I promise.”
"I'm ready." Spencer’s voice shattered the moment between them, and Max let out a shaking breath as he turned his head in the direction where the other man had gone.
Spencer threw his backpack out of the tent, then spun on his heel. Max watched him struggle to disconnect the tent poles before Collin sighed and stood up to help him. The two of them finally got Spencer’s tent disassembled and tucked into his bag, and Collin made quick work of his own tent. He packed up the camp stove and collected their dirty plates and cups, then hoisted his bag onto his shoulder.
The three of them began the hike, and it was like Collin had promised.
Mild.
The weather was calm, the sky blue, and the sun bright. A few gray clouds blew in from the east, but other than that, there was no breeze. Max stepped over a fallen log and inhaled a deep breath of the fresh wilderness air. He focused on Spencer walking in front of him, doing his best to block the teasing lightness of Spencer’s voice calling him Daddy the day before.
Max wasn’t a Daddy. He didn’t want to be anyone’s Daddy, but the thrill of someone finding him appealing sparked low and dangerous in his gut. He tried to not notice the way Spencer’s slim ass filled out his jeans or the way Collin’s strong forearms flexed when he reached out to help them both across a small gap in the trail.
None of those things were why he’d come on this trip.
“This is so pretty!” Spencer exclaimed, pointing toward a fallen tree. “Will you take a picture of me here?”
“If you want,” Collin sighed and held his hand out for Spencer’s camera.
“No, no.” He handed his camera to Max instead. “I want him to take it. I want you in it.”
Spencer yanked Collin toward the tree, arranging him so the light fell in a way that pleased him, then he posed himself and waited for Max to do as he’d been told. Max tried to not be offended. He didn’t even want to take a picture with Spencer, so he didn’t know why it bothered him Spencer didn’t want one with him.
Max tapped the camera button a few times in quick succession, then shoved it back at Spencer.
“Can we get on with it?”
“Don’t you want to appreciate the wilderness?” Spencer snapped, shoving his camera back into his bag.
“I am appreciating it. With my eyes.”
“A picture lasts longer.”
“This excursion is going to last a lifetime if the two of you don’t stop arguing,” Collin chided them.
Max closed his mouth and didn’t speak for the next few miles, following Collin down the trail and heading toward what Max hoped was the river...and not a cliff.
Chapter 7
Collin avoids answering the question
Collin wasn’t sure he took comfort in the tense silence between the two men as they made their way over the flat trail. He knew Max was suffering, he knew Spencer was so far outside of his comfort zone he didn’t even speak the language anymore, but he had hoped the two might find some common ground.
Collin had taken all manner of people on this trip, and he’d always found it soothing, centering. People were always a little bit changed by the time they met the bus at the end. He wasn’t sure that was going to happen this time. Maybe they’d leave worse off, and it would be just as well. What a fucking way to close out his last journey.
With a sigh, he led the pair around a bend in the path and realized he could hear the river entry poi
nt straight ahead. He looked back to see if either had noticed, but Spencer was too busy glowering at the back of Max’s head, and Max was too busy pretending like the other man didn’t exist.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he slowed his pace and let them catch up. “The river’s just there. Couple more minutes, and the rafts should be waiting.”
Spencer looked relieved, but Max continued to look pensive as they trudged along. Collin bit back his desire to make them talk it out—it absolutely wasn’t his business. His job was to take them on the bloody raft, to get them down the river before the rain hit, to see the stupid, shitting, fake goat his idiot brother had put up, and then be done with it.
Just like Pilate, he’d wash his hands and never look back. He only hoped his fate wasn’t as tragic, in the end.
Collin held back a bit of brush as they finally reached the path that led down to the river, and he let out a sigh of relief that everything was where it was meant to be. They had a little prep to do, but Michael hadn’t taken anything with him on his last route.
“Okay,” Collin said as they came to stop by the edge of the raft, “Normally with a full group, we’d have taken two, but we can comfortably fit the three of us together without an issue. This isn’t a cruise, so don’t expect me to do all the work, and the two of you are responsible for remembering the rules of this trip. If there’s something you don’t understand, ask. It’s my job to educate you and keep you safe. I’m happy to repeat myself.”
Spencer was staring at him with wide eyes, his lips slightly parted, and Collin felt the back of his neck flush a bit under the attention. “Yes, sir.”
Collin grit his teeth a bit. “Sir is unnecessary, Spencer.”
“But do you dislike it?” Spencer asked, and Collin found the question impossible to answer.
“Drop the kink shit, man,” Max cut in.
Collin dragged a hand through his hair, then pulled off his shades and grabbed his sun hat out of his pack. He adjusted it over his head, then took a step back to begin the health and safety speech he’d given so often over the last year, he could do it in a coma.