Butterfly Ops

by Jen Doyle

  This whole Lyndsey-truly-being-in-love-with-him thing was going to take some getting used to.

  A smile lingering, she looked down at the ground. “If we had gotten married,” she said, looking back up at him from under her eyelashes, “we would have screwed it up entirely, you know.”

  “Massively,” he agreed, knowing he shouldn’t be suddenly smiling, and yet having a hard time focusing on anything other than the fact that Lyndsey was walking towards him. That she was now standing right in front of him. Her nearness made the air around him roar.

  The smile disappeared and she was suddenly serious. Frighteningly so.

  “And what about now?” she asked softly. “Where do you think we stand on the potential-of-screwing-this-up scale?” She let her hand fall. “I mean, if we’re really truly serious about that whole playing for keeps thing.”

  That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? After all, Abby hadn’t even been in the picture when they’d combusted. If this day—these last two weeks—had taught them anything it was that they’d done so because of an epic series of misunderstandings and lack of communication. Memories shaped over so many years didn’t change in one night. He’d known for over a week now that she hadn’t been with Zachary until the night he’d come back with Abby—until she’d seen him and Abby together. He was still trying to reconcile that fact, still trying to reconfigure his reality into a world where, well, she would have actually said yes. Just because they’d cleared some things up, didn’t mean they were home free.

  “I don’t know,” he said, working mighty hard to keep his heart from pounding its way out of his chest. “I think that depends on you.” Maybe it wasn’t necessary to approach the subject with such dread, but he could barely breathe as he heard himself asking, “What do you want?” Because if this wasn’t it, then he sure as hell wanted to know now.

  She didn’t answer right away. Instead she looked at him for a few moments, directly up into his eyes. Then she reached her hand out and placed it on his chest. When, after a few seconds’ pause he wrapped his hand around hers and held on tightly, she murmured, “What I want.” She was crying as she said, “I want to not waste the next sixteen years thinking I made the biggest mistake of my life. Again.”

  He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until it suddenly came rushing out of him. Lightheaded, he felt himself reaching back, shoring himself up against the wall as his knees went weak. Through all of this—despite everything she’d been saying and doing today—he couldn’t quite comprehend that that might be her answer. But here he was, standing with the woman who at one point he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with. And, from what he could tell, she had pretty much just said that she felt the same way. That she’d wanted him then; that she wanted him now.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, taking a few steps back. The babble started before he could stop it. “I mean, not that anything you did was a waste. You had this whole amazing and wonderful life and got married to what was by all accounts a fantastic woman and had these four beautiful kids. Not that I was twiddling my thumbs or anything, but I definitely didn’t—”

  “Lyndsey,” he said the second he pulled himself together enough to speak. “Shut up.”

  Putting his hand to the back of her neck, he pulled her in close.

  Tears were freely flowing down her face. Looking up at him, she whispered, “I really did love you, you know.”

  “No,” he responded, knowing his smile contradicted the poignancy of his words. “You didn’t.”

  “You’re wrong,” she said, pushing it. “I did. It just meant something else back then. And…” Her gaze faltered as she looked away for a second. She came back to him, though, clearly not willing to let it go. “I don’t think I was very good at it.” She looked up at him, waiting until he nodded his understanding before saying, “I’m much better at it now.”

  “Yeah,” he answered gruffly. “We both are.”

  She reached up for him then, and, taking his face in her hands again, kissed him. Gently at first, but then much more urgently as he joined in.

  Everything about this kiss was different than everything that had come before. For the first time, they were meeting each other in the same place. For the first time, they actually both had a sense of what they were getting into—and weren’t running from it. Were running toward it, in fact, despite the chaotic mess it promised to be.

  16

  The dream started out just fine as far as Lyndsey was concerned. She was lying back in the canoe, much more comfortable than one would expect thanks to Ian’s warm, solid body behind her. With her hand lazily trailing through the perfectly still water and the sun shining high in the bright blue sky, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect day. Even the butterfly flying above them seemed happy circling in a slow, contented sort of way. Lyndsey closed her eyes and let the scene take over her other senses—the smell of the pines ringing the lake, the feel of the breeze against her face, and the sound of Ian’s heartbeat serving as the steady pulse beneath it all.

  Being that it was a dream, it was hard to tell how long she stayed that way. What she could tell was that when the change came, it was sudden. What had been bright was now dark; the breeze, once pleasant, was harsh and cold. And Ian’s heartbeat, so soothing and calm, was now pounding at a pace that didn’t seem healthy. It was overwhelmingly fast; frenetic, even. Urgently insistent, in fact, kind of like, well…

  Lyndsey bolted upright in the bed, suddenly wide awake thanks to the blaring nuclear meltdown sound coming from her phone. Right. Because although she’d been able to sleep in this morning, at least according to Ian’s regular six a.m. wake up, she still needed to be ready to go by 8:30. She resisted throwing her phone across the room and instead just shut off the alarm.

  She stretched her arms high above her head, surprised at how rested she felt after a night of barely any sleep at all. For most of the night, she had watched Ian sleep and had taken it all in—the smoothness of his skin as she lay her cheek down on his chest, the scratchiness of the stubble as she ran her hand down his jaw, the warmth of his body as he put his arm around her and pulled her close. She’d wanted to savor every moment; not waste another single second of the time they had togeth—

  And there she went, crying again.

  Since Ian had left an hour and a half ago for breakfast with Matt, Lyndsey didn’t have to try and hide it this time. She pulled the pillow to her chest and let her tears fall without trying to stop them. Sixteen years, she had wasted. Sixteen. Sixteen years because she’d been so stubborn—so willing to lump him in to the category of Men Who Had Done Her Wrong—that despite his doing everything within his power to explain otherwise, she had assumed the worst and let him walk out of her life forever.

  No. Not forever. They had every day from here.

  She wasn’t going to waste a minute more.

  She showered and dressed quickly. Her pack was already set so she just needed to pull it on. Tommy would be taking the cabin beginning at some point today, but she was leaving a few things for when they returned from the woods. Clean clothes and some nice soap and shampoo would be a nice welcome back to civilization.

  She didn’t notice the flower or the pack of tissues until she’d picked up her backpack to leave; Ian must have left them this morning. The flower was from outside the cabin—a brilliant reddish orange lily that looked even more beautiful now than it had been the day before. So he had noticed—both that she’d liked the flowers and that she’d been crying off and on all night. The flowers part surprised her because, well, they’d been kind of all over each other; it hadn’t exactly been a stroll up the walk. She’d said something in passing as she attempted not to tear his clothes off before they actually made it into the room. He’d been busy nuzzling her neck and trying to unlock the door at the time. No one would have blamed him for not catching the reference.

  In terms of the crying thing, well… She thought she’d managed to keep it to a minimum when h
e’d been awake—and she thought she’d managed to distract him when all else had failed. But clearly, she hadn’t succeeded entirely.

  As she went to tuck the tissues into her pack, she realized the pack was open and a note was tucked into it.

  Don’t cry for what we lost, it said. Not when there’s so much left to be. I love you.

  Okay then. She’d felt it last night; had—finally—felt it the way she’d felt it all those years ago, something she’d been a little afraid wasn’t as sure of a thing as she’d thought it would be. But seeing it in writing?

  Yeah. That felt pretty damn nice.

  She briskly wiped away the tear that had just tracked down her cheek. Damn it. This crying thing was ridiculous. No way was this going to be a theme. The tissues would not be necessary, thank you very much. She lifted the backpack up, slipped her arms through the straps, and headed out the door. It slammed shut behind her.

  Two seconds later she let herself back into the cabin and put the pack down on the floor. The tissues went into the outside compartment—might as well have them easily accessible should it be necessary to quickly wipe away any embarrassing telltale evidence. The note and the flower, however… She placed them between the folds of the laminated map she’d gotten the night before, wrapped it up tightly with a rubber band, and thrust it into the middle of the tightly rolled up clothes in the center of the bag so as not to get wet. It wasn’t exactly the best technique, but it would get the job done. Satisfied she had everything she needed, she left the cabin again, this time for good.

  The departure site where everyone was meeting was Camp Atikokan’s version of a landing strip—a dock at which three small planes were lined up. Between Lyndsey and the path leading down to the dock was a picnic area with two portable grills and five tables, all of which were currently filled with various team members. The grills were being manned by two of the camp’s chefs who were, at the moment, turning out a steady stream of eggs, bacon, and potatoes. With Ian nowhere to be seen and Matt overseeing breakfast operations, Lyndsey filled up a plate and then took it over to where Brooks, Ana, and Sprague were sitting.

  As Lyndsey sat down, Ana gave a mock frown. “You disappeared last night. It was just me and all that testosterone. And there I was, hoping for some girl time.”

  Sprague made an unexpectedly raunchy comment about the nature of that girl time and the three of them were off, both demonstrating how much of an outsider Lyndsey was to this group while including her enough to make it not hurt.

  Given how emotional she was this morning, she just looked down at the table in front of her, fearful that if she met any of their eyes, she’d end up giving a, You like me, you really like me speech. She was feeling a little bit cup overfloweth and honestly didn’t know how to handle it. She wasn’t used to emotion—not this outwardly at least. Or maybe, actually, she wasn’t used to being a part of something like this. She had Morgan, and she had Zach and Tessa. Well, Tommy and the other ZSJ guys, and Rob once upon a time. That was it, though; they were all she’d ever had. Now this whole other world of people had taken her in and made her a part of them. It was, good, yes; but also overwhelming.

  So for now she was just going to appreciate what Brooks, Ana, and Sprague had just done—what they were doing. With the exception of Matt, these were the only people here who knew she was with Ian and they’d no doubt noticed his absence last night as well. They clearly had no interest in gossip, however—they hadn’t pressed her on details; nor did they seem to feel the need to bring her up to speed on what anyone else thought. In fact, they didn’t press her on anything, period, which was the second thing she was grateful for. This was a little on the early side for someone who spent her time chasing down the things that go bump in the middle of the night. Add that to the fact that Lyndsey had slept exactly fifty-two minutes, and, well, she was hoping her adrenaline would kick in soon.

  And kick in it did in the worst of ways less than five minutes later. That was about the time Lyndsey saw Matt look up past her at the path behind her. There was Ian, which, well, yay; but there was Julianna Langdon, too. Walking way too close to Ian, their shoulders almost touching, the smile on Julianna’s face just a little bit too big.

  Although Ian didn’t say anything to Lyndsey as he walked past, he did look back over his shoulder and give her the kind of smile that certainly helped. As did the fact that those other two rangers from the meeting in Boston were coming up the path Ian and Julianna had just traveled so it hadn’t just been the two of them. All four of them joined Matt at one of the tables up front. Before they sat down, Ian looked over at Lyndsey and raised his eyebrows then nodded toward the place next to him. Your call, he seemed to be saying.

  Well, okay, then.

  For some reason she was suddenly nervous. What was she supposed to say to Ian? How was she supposed to act? Everything had changed last night—everything. All because—

  Oh, for Heaven’s sake. “Ridiculous,” she muttered.

  “Excuse me?” Brooks asked, turning to her.

  She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m, uh…” She got to her feet. “Excuse me.” She pulled herself together and went over to Ian’s table.

  Of course, by the time she got there, the seat next to him had been taken, albeit not by Julianna, thank goodness. Having it be Dominic was only a slight improvement, however.

  “Ms. Daniels,” he murmured, standing up as she came over.

  “Lyndsey, please,” she corrected, still not used to the part where everyone except was now getting to their feet as well. She was even more flustered as she caught the half hungry/half amused look in Ian’s eyes as he watched her. “Sit. Please sit.”

  “Lyndsey, then,” Dominic said. “I was hoping you might come by the museum yesterday.”

  “Right,” she answered, irritated she’d forgotten; it would have actually been a good diversion, considering. “I was, um…”

  …Completely preoccupied with the mess she’d made of the conversation with Ian before they’d left for Quetico. So not good—and yet another reminder of how she needed to get her focus back. “Busier than I expected. I’m so sorry.”

  Matt chose that moment to cough loudly. After glaring at him, Lyndsey caught the puzzled look on Ian’s face as he also looked at Matt and then at Lyndsey, almost as though he had no idea she’d spent the entire day thinking about him.

  Was that truly possible? Could he be that clueless?

  Well, yes, she supposed. He was a guy after all.

  “Some other time then,” Dominic didn’t bother to hide his disappointment.

  “Yes,” she replied, still a little distracted. “Some other time.”

  There was an awkward pause, ended by Matt finally saying, “Does everyone know each other?”

  Since the answer was obviously yes for all the other players, Lyndsey knew she was the person to whom the question was directed. Before she could answer, Julianna reached across the table offering a much friendlier smile than Lyndsey expected along with her hand. “We met in Boston. I’m Julie Langdon. Thanks for taking the time to come help us out.” Either not noticing or deliberately ignoring the shock Lyndsey was unable to keep from her face, Julianna continued, “This is Frank and next to him is Kevin; they’re our lead rangers. They won’t be out in the park with you, but you might see them around from time to time.”

  They didn’t bother to hide the lack of welcome and friendly feelings as Lyndsey smiled at them. Although Julianna—or, rather, Julie, as she’d just said—didn’t seem too happy with her rangers’ response, she didn’t exactly apologize for them either. Instead, she did cock her head towards Dominic and say, “And I see you two have already met. I just learned that Dominic will be serving as one of the guides for all of you.”

  Oh. Yay.

  Julianna’s smile had the same frosty edge to it as Lyndsey was sure she was wearing on her own face.

  “As I’m sure Ian is tired of hearing by now,” Julianna continued, “I
can’t say we’re thrilled with having you all here, but we do know we need you. I’ll just reiterate how important it is to be careful out there. We’d hate to make a bad situation worse.”

  Lyndsey allowed the same amount of frostiness to creep into her own smile. “Ten hikers dead, four missing. Seems to me things can’t get a whole lot worse.” Unless whatever this was came after Ian, but that was a whole other story.

  Busy holding Julianna’s gaze, Lyndsey was startled when someone’s hand closed over hers—someone who wasn’t Ian. Dominic. She was so taken aback she didn’t even have a chance to make clear how incredibly inappropriate that was before Dominic said, “I think Julie means the Army team. From my understanding, they’re the ones with the firepower.”

  “No worries,” Ian answered, with a grin coming to his face that made it appear like he couldn’t have cared less about Dominic making such a move. “You’d be surprised at how much firepower Lyndsey brings.”

  “Oh, sure.” She laughed as she pulled her hand away from Dominic in as casual way as possible. No need to be making an enemy of him at this stage. “Throw me under the bus.”

  Grin fading, Ian answered, “I’m not sure I’m capable of throwing you.”

  There was a lump in Lyndsey’s throat as she looked up at him. Oh, yes he was, as yesterday had so very clearly indicated. She looked away first.

  “I’d just like to clarify this isn’t like a walk on your Boston Common,” Frank was saying. “There are over a million untamed acres out there—the routes you’ll be traveling are challenging. And our wildlife is just that—wild. Weapons can’t help you when you stumble on a wolf cub in the middle of the night and the pack comes after you.” Although he was talking to Ian, Lyndsey knew he was referring to her.

  Jerk.

  Irritated—and possibly a little afraid of what Lyndsey was about to answer—Matt brought the conversation to a close. “I’m pretty sure we’ve been over all of this—and from what I understand, you have all of our documentation.”