by Zoe York
And truthfully, they’d gotten more than a little distracted sharing other things. Their bodies. Their fantasies. Favorite foods and movies and day-trips from San Diego. Cade told her about driving up the coast, and she admitted she’d never learned to surf. He’d promised to teach her and she’d gone online and ordered a super-cute wetsuit. He’d kissed his way down her back and she’d shoved her phone out of the way…
“Now who’s thinking about sex?” Cade asked, his lips brushing the curve of her ear.
“Shut up, we don’t have anything else to do,” she muttered. They were in line for the rope bridge, obstacle number two.
“Give me your arm.” He laughed when she gave him a “what are you planning” look over her shoulder. “To stretch, dirty girl. To stretch.”
“Oh, how disappointing.” She sighed as he pressed her into a deep stretch and counted. They switched, then she held on to him for balance as she did her legs. Quads, hamstrings, calves, ankles.
Then it was their turn for the rope bridge.
“Over and back, eyes on the horizon the whole time, got it?”
She nodded.
“Don’t—”
“I know. Don’t look down.”
And she didn’t, even when her heart was in her throat. It was easier on the way back, because there was Cade, and she couldn’t see anything else. He spun her around in a quick circle as soon as she was back on solid ground, then off he went, faster than seemed safe. She held her breath the entire time, and when he was back at her side and their race passport was stamped, she laced their fingers together and dragged him away from the ravine’s edge.
“You okay?”
She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know how you do really dangerous stuff. That was damn scary.”
“But you did great!”
“I meant watching you.” She pulled him to the side of the trail and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on for dear life. “Don’t laugh at me, but I think I just need to hug you for a minute.”
He laughed. “You know telling me not to laugh…”
“I know. It’s just…I don’t know. I can’t put it into words.”
“Um…” His voice rumbled low in his chest under the cheek she’d pressed there. “Do you remember me saying I’m not a complicated guy?”
“Yeah. Why do you think I keep freaking out?” Okay, so she’d only freaked out once for real, and they’d gotten over that. But Cade made her feel a whole lot of things she didn’t really have a solid handle on.
“You certainly are a complicated woman,” he said drily, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “But I think you all are. That doesn’t scare me away.”
She decided not to take up the cause that women weren’t more complicated than men. At least in their population sample of two, that theory held true.
“You said something the other day,” he murmured against her hair. “That you think you could be all in.” His arms tightened around her. “I like that a lot.”
She nodded. “Can I tell you something else?”
“You can tell me anything.”
She laughed. “Yeah, no. I’m not sharing all my crazy just yet.”
“What’s the worst that would happen if you did?”
You’d run away screaming. But he wouldn’t, actually. Irrational fear. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe nothing would happen.”
“Probably not.” She took a shaky breath. “But I want to tell you something non-crazy first.” He didn’t say anything, just held her, and she let her thoughts rattle around in her brain for a minute before continuing. “This would have been awful without you. I’d be worried about Cassie and nervous about my partner. This race…it has a personal connection for me, and I’ll tell you more about that tonight, but I’m really glad I’m sharing it with you.”
He squeezed her tight. “I’m really glad I came with you. I probably would have come even if you said no, so I’m also glad you let me and didn’t discover that I can be a creepy stalker.”
She laughed and pulled away, but he tugged her in close for a soft kiss. “You good?”
“I’m great. Let’s go kick some log-rolling ass!”
The log, in fact, kicked her ass, and she was soaking wet for the fourth obstacle, leaping over a row of hot coals that weren’t really that hot. Conveniently placed right after the water obstacle, she thought sarcastically to herself, and when she looked at Cade after his effortless leap, he gave her an eye-roll that said he shared her feelings.
By the time they got to the last obstacle for the day—a rope swing across a decent-sized riverbed—she was almost dry and definitely tired.
“On the other side of this playground activity is the campsite. You’ve got this.”
Mel groaned. “I totally don’t.”
“You do. You can do this. You’ve told me about your rope-climbing practice at the gym, and this is just hanging on and swinging across.”
“What is this weird Jedi mind trick you’re trying to play on me?” She scowled at him.
“Mental resiliency.”
“Sounds hard. Can I take a nap first?”
“Naps are on the other side of the river, beautiful.”
“I might hate you a little bit right now.”
“You want me to go first?”
“Yep. First and last.”
He just laughed and pointed her toward the patient volunteer holding the rope for them.
Piece of cake, she told herself. Just a playground activity. Rope swings. Phfft.
“You want me to take your pack?”
She did. It would be easier without the bulk. “No. I’ve got this.”
Grasping the rope just above her head, she leaned back a bit and braced her feet on the ground. Playground. Shove and lift up your feet. She repeated the instruction in her head twice, but the thought of not swinging far enough, of having to drop down into the foot of cold, rushing water below, was enough to keep her feet planted on the ground.
But her mom had done this. She’d not only done it, she’d won the race. Mel could at least try it. She waited for Cade to say more of his mental resiliency pep-talk stuff, but he was silent behind her. Giving her all the time in the world.
Before she could think about it anymore, she leapt in the air, letting the rope—suspended from a branch high above the middle of the river—carry her across. As soon as she was over dirt again, she dropped her legs, letting her feet scrabble for purchase. Loosening her grip on the rope, she let it slide through her fingers a few inches, giving her some slack while still hanging on to it.
Any team that let the rope drop had to go into the river to get it, and she was done with wet feet for the day.
On the other bank, Cade jumped up and punched his fist in the air. “Good girl,” he hollered and she beamed at the praise.
“Ready?” she called back to him.
“Send it back!”
Coiling up the dragging end, she whipped it across the river. Cade snatched it with ease, then took a running jump to swing across and join her. No hesitation.
“You make that look like a piece of cake,” she told him as they hiked slowly to the camping area.
“Once we get set up and into dry socks, remind me to tell you about the time I had to jump from one mountain to another.”
— —
Cade had to admit having a hot meal wasn’t so bad. And it wasn’t so different from when his team had hot food brought to them on training exercises. It was a good reward for people like Mel for whom this was a big stretch of their abilities.
She kept impressing him with her stick-to-itiveness. There was a big difference between training and live action, and even without an enemy force, he’d seen lots of big, strong guys cave in the transition from practice to go-time.
Even two scary-looking blisters hadn’t slowed her down. He’d doctored up her feet with antibiotic ointment and moleskin, put her in clean, dry socks and shoes—they’d brought a second pair for
the next day—and together they quickly set up their tent and freshened up with baby wipes and put on their change of clothes for the night and the next day.
Since they’d only brought one tent, and it was tiny, they took turns. They’d gone back and forth on whether the second tent was necessary, but their packs were small and it wasn’t like they were going to sleep apart, anyway.
He’d already gotten used to having her body pressed against his. The hardest part would be keeping her hands off his junk in the night. Or being quiet if he couldn’t.
After dinner they tucked into bed early. Cade lay on his back, hands behind his head, and Mel curled into his side, her cheek resting on the inside of his arm.
“Tell me about literally jumping off a mountain,” she said quietly as she walked her fingers up his torso.
“Two years ago in Afghanistan. We knew there was this footbridge—a group of Rangers had used it, and it was mapped. Using it would save us a day of climbing down, then up again. So we head to it, and it’s…damaged.” It had been fucked beyond repair, but he wasn’t going to tell her just how risky it had been for Meyers to shimmy across the creaking structure. He’d barely made it when the last support gave out. But with anchors and rope they’d set up a decent pulley system. “So we can’t use it, not after the first guy goes across. Instead we use rope and basically zipline across. We get the gear over and our guys. I’m taking up the rear, watching our six, and just as the last guy gets across, I realize we’ve got company. So I slack one of the ropes on my side, re-lash it to myself. They haul ass up to higher ground on their side, get it over a tree branch, and I jump.”
“Cade!”
“What? I’m here, aren’t I?”
“That’s terrifying. How far of a gap?”
No way was he telling her that. “Not far.”
“You’re so lying.”
“I’m here, that’s all that matters.”
“You just gave me a minor heart attack.”
“Sorry. Sometimes dating a SEAL carries the risk of hearing pants-shitting stories.”
“So we’re dating?” She smiled into his arm—he could feel her cheek plumping up.
He twisted toward her and gently gripped her chin between his fingers. “Yes.”
She held his gaze for a beat. “Good. I’ve got another secret to tell you.”
He brushed his lips against hers. “I’m all ears.”
“So I told you this race…it’s not about the race. I mean, it is. But it’s really about getting to the top.”
“That’s not the first time you’ve mentioned the ridge.”
“Yeah…” She took a deep breath. “But it’s the first time I’ve been ready to tell you about my mother.”
The pulse in Cade’s neck grew heavy, leaded. He could handle anything—including this—but of all the things he was trained to handle well, none of them were big emotional shares about parents. Or babies. Any family-related sadness, really.
Didn’t mean he couldn’t still be here for Mel. Hold her and just listen.
Hopefully not fuck up and say the wrong thing.
He took a breath just as deep as hers and nodded mutely.
“This race used to be just to the top of the ridge. More trail running, fewer people, less photography.” She poked him in the side and he chuckled under his breath. “And my parents were endurance runners before there were glossy magazines dedicated to the sport. That’s how they met. After she had me, my mother’s focus changed—she had a kid, needed a stable job with health insurance, that kind of thing. And her relationship with my father was…tumultuous. The whole time they raced together, he made fun of the Manoan Challenge because it wasn’t actually that long. It was an upstart race at that point. But when I was three, he signed up for it. And just mentioned it to her one weekend when he was visiting.”
“Visiting?”
She snorted, and his heart cracked. “Yeah. He never really lived with us. Most of the time he was racing somewhere else in the world, but sometimes he was staying with friends. Female friends who didn’t have kids.”
Jesus Christ. He kissed her forehead and bit back the observation that her dad sounded like a complete douchebag. That could come at the end of the story.
“So my mom asked her boss for overtime so she could raise the money for the entrance fee. And her boss did her one better. She worked at a running store as the manager. He contacted a rep at a shoe company, got her sponsored for the race, and slotted her into a team. I don’t know all the details, they’ve blurred together in all the retelling of it over the years, but somehow, once we got to Hawaii, my parents got back together. I have this really vivid memory of the three of us cuddling on the beach and my mom was so happy.”
Mel’s voice cracked and Cade swore under his breath. “It didn’t last?”
She shrugged, but her voice was reedy and thin when she spoke again. “It was a long time ago.”
“Never enough time to get over hurt like that.”
“She fell for the wrong guy. She never got over him, you know? I think they lived together for maybe two years of their marriage. She finally divorced him when I was ten, when he’d stopped visiting and had moved in with someone else. When there was no more pretending. But the trip here…that was the last time she was happy with him.”
“What happened in the race?”
She took a few deep breaths. “My mom won. As part of her team, but she won. Beat my dad. It was…amazing. There was so much cheering. She was the first woman to win the race, and there’d been some lucky breaks—a spill down a hill that slowed down a bunch of people, and she was just on fire. It was the last race she ever ran, so she retired a champion.”
“Wow.” Cade was genuinely impressed. But something told him there was a sad ending to this story. Mel’s voice was laced with bittersweet melancholy, and her voice was almost hollow. “So now we’re here…” he prompted gently.
“Yeah. And hitting the ridge tomorrow…that’s the real goal for me. To stand there, where my mom stood. I always wanted to come here with her, but we didn’t have any money for traveling. And then she got sick.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. That wasn’t how this story was supposed to end. That wasn’t fair.
“She had breast cancer it turned out. Pretty advanced. She was diagnosed when I was seventeen, and she died two weeks before my twentieth birthday. And it took me seven years to get myself healthy and focused enough to get here for the race. And if the National Park Service hadn’t forced the move for next year, I would have put it off even longer.”
“But you’re here. And that’s what matters.”
“I want to go up there now, Cade. Alone.”
“Okay.” That made sense. She could have her moment without the rest of the racers around. “Is that why you didn’t want to climb to the top the other day?”
She nodded. “I thought it needed to be during the race. But now I know I just need to get up there. In the quiet.”
“Of course.” He sat up as much as he could in the tiny tent, and grabbed his headlamp from his pack. “Here, take this.”
She gave him a curious look. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
If she wanted him, he’d climb ten mountains for her. “Do you want to be alone?”
“From the rest of the world. Not from you.” She wiggled around and unzipped the tent before glancing back over her shoulder at him. “Probably never from you, Cade.”
— TEN —
Even though the sun had set and they just had the single head lamp, they made good time, getting to the top in less than thirty minutes.
She could still hear her mother talk about the waterfall, how loud it was, and how quickly that sound faded away as you climbed higher.
As far as mountains went, this wasn’t really anything. A giant hill, really. Climbable in a single day. But as they stepped out of the forest and onto the ridge with the bright moon overhead, it felt like they were on top of the world.
Cade
didn’t say anything. He just slowed his pace, letting her go ahead.
I’m here, Mom. I did it. I’m so proud of you. I can’t believe you ran faster than most men in your field. The whole thing was impressive. That she’d been working as a single mom instead of sticking with her deadbeat, cheating-ass ex in an age when everything was against her striking out on her own. That she’d asked her boss for time off and had been given the gift of competition again.
Mel stared down at the dark, shadowy forest tumbling below her into the valley.
“Are you okay?” Cade asked.
She shook her head. “No.”
“You want to tell me more about her?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I really, really do.”
He tugged her over to a rock outcropping and sat down, spreading his legs wide. He pulled her in between them, settling her on one of his thighs and shifting her body until she was leaning against his chest.
She took a ragged breath and relaxed into him. “Thank you.”
“She sounds like a remarkable woman. I’m sorry I’ll never get to meet her.”
“She would have liked you. She always had a soft spot for nice, athletic white boys.”
He laughed. “Did she ever re-marry?”
“No. She only had one other significant relationship, with our pastor. He was a widower and really lovely. I think he would have married her after her diagnosis if she’d wanted to. But she’d gone through her entire adult life on her own, and she wanted to die an independent woman, too.”
Mel had never said that out loud, and now that she did, she wanted to cry. That wasn’t the only reason why Mel was so independent, but it might have something to do with it. “Damn it.”
“It’s okay.”
“I like you a lot, Cade.”
“Good.” He kissed her gently. “I like you, too.”
“I don’t want to fuck us up.”
“I won’t let you.”
“I might get scared.”
“Beautiful, your dad was a first-class asshole, and if I ever meet him, I’ll probably deck him. I will never, ever, ever hurt you like that.”
She blinked at the anger roiling through his words. He hadn’t said anything when she’d first told him the story in the tent, but now she realized he’d been holding back. “You’re nothing like him,” she whispered against his lips.