by Jessie Evans
“Is someone cranky after staying up all night?” she asked, with a laugh. “Maybe you need a nap.”
“I don’t need a nap.”
“Now who sounds like they’re five years old?”
He turned to see her watching him again, with that see-through-his-skin look of hers that made him think she was reading his damned mind.
Gritting his teeth, he crossed to the bag of supplies on the end of the table where Grace sat and started digging for the sunscreen. She couldn’t know about his son or that Aaron had died days from his sixth birthday. It had been a tragic story bandied about rodeo circles years ago, but no one talked about it now and Grace hadn’t even known he was a bull rider until last night.
“You have any kids?” she asked innocently, twisting the knife she’d unknowingly stuck in his gut.
“Do you?” he countered, surprised by the way her expression tightened in response. She was so young, he’d expected the answer to be no, but there was no mistaking the sadness that filled her eyes.
“It’s…complicated,” she said, dropping her gaze to her lap.
“Then let’s not talk about it,” he said, hoping she would take the hint. “Here.” He pressed the bottle of sunscreen into her hand. “Put it on. I’m going to change. Nothing like a swim to wake you up after a long drive. You want to come with me?”
“Sure.” Her fingers tightened around the bottle before she looked up, a piercing look in her eyes. “Canyon, what date is it?”
He frowned. “What?”
“What date,” she repeated. “I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t have a cell phone and I’ve kind of lost track of time the past month. But I was noticing how crowded the campground was when we drove through and it made me wonder.”
“It’s May thirtieth. Memorial Day is tomorrow. That’s why it’s so crowded.”
Her tongue slipped out to dampen her lips as she nodded shakily. “That’s what I thought.”
“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, confused by her response.
She shook her head. “No. Not at all. It’s a good thing. I think. I…I don’t know. It’s been a weird couple of days.”
“Do you want me to take you to the bus stop?” he asked gently. “I understand if you’ve decided staying a week in a tent with a stranger isn’t a great idea.”
“You’re not a stranger, you’re a new friend,” she said with a sincerity that touched him. “I like you, Canyon.”
“Well, thank you. I like you, too, Grace,” he said, taking a flustered step away. “I’ll get changed and then you can have the tent.”
He hurried away from her, past ready to be in the water. He needed a cold dip to clear his head and remind him why feeling anything more than “like” for Grace was a bad idea. He was here to get his affairs in order and tie up a few final loose ends, not to get drawn into any new entanglements.
He couldn’t afford any more regrets and he refused to give that girl with the big sad eyes anything else to cry about.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lily Grace
Canyon Meriwether O’Donnell looked damned fine in a tee shirt and a pair of worn-out blue jeans. Wearing nothing but a pair of black swim trunks slung low on his hips, the man was breathtaking.
Lily had known his chest was rock hard from the moments she’d spent lying on it catching her breath after her near-death experience, but she was still surprised when he pulled off his tee shirt. Feeling his body through clothing and seeing every abdominal muscle standing out in sharp detail as he dove into the deepest part of the swimming hole were two different things.
The first she could keep at a theoretical distance, the second had her imagination going to places it shouldn’t, especially when she had much bigger things to think about.
Tomorrow was Memorial Day, and unless the Lawsons had changed a long-standing tradition, that meant the entire clan would be at the river tomorrow, not a mile away from the campsite. She would be able to walk down the trail to the picnic area and see the boys without having to talk Canyon into driving into town, a realization that was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.
What if she lost her nerve? What if they didn’t believe her and thought she was a crazy person? What if they did believe her and didn’t understand why she had to go away again?
Peyton was six. He was still so young. That would make it easier for him to believe in something magical, but it would also make it harder to say goodbye. For both of them. She couldn’t imagine holding him close and then being forced to turn and walk away.
A part of her warned that maybe it was best to leave her boys alone, but she wasn’t sure if that was the voice of wisdom or of cowardice. Surely it was better for her sons to hear how much they were loved from her lips one last time and to know there would always be a spirit watching out for them. She wasn’t sure what she would say or do until they were standing in front of her, but she knew she had to see them.
Thoughts of tomorrow’s encounter should have filled her head too full to dwell on the pretty cowboy splashing around in the water below, but her brain had other ideas. Her sleep-deprived synapses were weary of stressful thoughts and eager for something to take her mind off heavier issues.
Consequently, she had a hard time keeping her eyes from Canyon’s muscled back as he swam to the far bank and an even harder time controlling her response to the moment he emerged from the river, his soaked shorts clinging to the curves of his ass.
The man had one phenomenal backside. No doubt about it.
Swallowing hard, Lily wrenched her gaze from the swimming hole, taking her time spreading her towel out on the rocks near the bend in the river, doing her best to pull herself together. She wished Canyon hadn’t known about this particular spot. All the other tourists were down at the well-marked river beach with the manned lifeguard stand, which meant they were alone here, with nothing to distract Canyon from noticing that she was practically drooling all over herself.
She’d never been ruled by lust before—she’d only slept with two men, though she’d certainly been attracted to others—but a bear claw had never tasted as delicious as the one at the donut shop last night, either.
Time away from a human body had sharpened her senses, making her a slave to every sweet-smelling scent on the breeze, each bite of suddenly magical-tasting food, and the hunger to feel another body warm against hers. Preferably Canyon’s, the way it had been last night.
It was all sorts of wrong, probably akin to a nurse lusting after her patient. She’d been sent here to help this man, not think about how good he looked in a swimsuit. She was ashamed of herself, but not so ashamed that she could keep her eyes from drifting from the romance novel she’d purchased last night to where Canyon frolicked in the water.
Romance had clearly been a bad choice. She should have brought poor Grace’s well-worn copy of The Bell Jar and spent an hour inside the mind of a depressed genius, instead.
But she was tired of sad, depressing things. She didn’t want to think about being in a body her sons wouldn’t recognize or that the man she would always love like a piece of her own soul was married to someone else. She didn’t want to think about only having a week to save a good man’s life or what waited for her on the other side of this brief return to earth.
When she was bodiless, she’d been at peace with her fate, but this human form she inhabited insisted on life. It demanded food and breath and warmth and contact and she suddenly understood why the forces in charge of sending souls to earth didn’t send them sooner.
If she spent more than a week or so in this body, she wouldn’t want to leave it. She would fight to keep the candle lit, the way she had the long night she lay crushed beneath her four-wheeler, clinging to life for as long as she could, though a part of her knew her body was broken beyond repair.
Though she knew the man who’d pushed her off the trail might be coming for her, intending to finish what he’d started.
Lily shivered and her novel fell from her hand. A moment later
she was up and jogging toward the edge of the rocks, diving head first into the deepest part of the pool. The moment the water closed over her head, the dark thoughts faded away, replaced by a full body case of the goose bumps.
It was only May and the river was still cool, but she knew from experience that her skin would adjust after a few minutes of hard swimming.
She sank down deep before arching her back and moving up toward the light. She lifted her hands to pull through the water, but the movement didn’t send her gliding smoothly toward the surface the way it usually would. She gave an experimental kick with her legs and then another pull with her arms, but she couldn’t seem to get her limbs to cooperate.
After a few more increasingly awkward attempts to get her body headed in the right direction, she began to sink, the breath trapped in her lungs feeling like a lead weight instead of a source of buoyancy.
Panic and incredulity pulsed through her in equal measure, and a burst of hysterical laughter pushed against her closed lips. She’d had no trouble walking around, climbing in and out of the truck, or helping set up camp, but those were things every person knew how to do. She hadn’t imagined that the limitations of this body might be her limitations as well.
The thought that Grace might not have learned to swim hadn’t crossed her mind until this exact moment, as she sank deeper into the dark water, hoping she would touch bottom soon and be able to use her feet to push back toward the surface.
If not, she would have failed Canyon and her children, and the best she could hope for was that the sight of her lifeless body would make Canyon think twice about the appeal of ending his pain with such a final solution.
CHAPTER SIX
Canyon
Canyon stood on the opposite shore, waiting for Grace’s head to break the surface. He waited and waited, certain she’d pop up any second and make him feel silly for worrying.
And then the waiting went on for too long and his certainty transformed to terror.
He dove back into the water, pulling hard for where he’d seen her go under, panicked that she’d hit her head and passed out. His heart was thudding so loud in his ears that it seemed to echo through the river as he swam deeper, his eyes open, searching the darkness. The pool was shaded and the patches of sunlight filtering through the trees only penetrated a few feet beneath the surface. Down below, where the cloudy water was even colder, he could barely see his own arms stroking in front of him, let alone much farther.
You’re never going to find her. Not in time.
Ignoring the voice of doom and despair, he dove deeper, refusing to accept that he’d saved Grace last night only to lose her today.
By the time he spotted a flash of pale skin a few feet below him, his chest was aching like a giant had wrapped a fist around his ribs and was squeezing them to dust. If Grace weren’t so pale, he might not have seen the arm floating in the murky blue, but her skin seemed to glow like moonlight trapped beneath the water—beautiful and terrifying.
Canyon reached her with two swift strokes, wrapped his arm around her waist, and with a powerful scissor kick, sent them both surging toward the sunlight glinting above. They emerged with twin gasps for air, Grace’s harsh inhalation and the coughing fit that followed the sweetest sounds he’d heard in a long time.
She had held her breath for almost two full minutes. And she hadn’t been knocked out or tangled in debris that had kept her trapped at the bottom of the riverbed.
So why hadn’t she swum to the surface?
“What happened?” He pulled toward the shore with his free arm, the other still wrapped around Grace’s chest. “What were you doing down there? Why didn’t you come up?”
“I d-don’t know,” she panted, her teeth chattering.
“You don’t know?” As they reached the shallows, he helped her find her feet but held tight to her hand as they slogged through the water toward the pebbled beach. He wasn’t letting her go until he knew she wasn’t going to hurt herself again.
“I d-don’t know how to s-swim,” she said, shivering as she collapsed onto the beach and wrapped her arms tightly around her bent legs. “I f-forgot that I don’t know how to swim.”
“You forgot?” He stood staring down at her as she wiped the water from her flushed face. “How do you forget that you don’t know how to swim?”
“I don’t know!” she said, sounding as frustrated as he felt. “How do you get to be twenty-two years old without knowing how to swim? It doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t even think about it.”
He frowned harder. “Were you trying to hurt yourself again? Is that it?”
“No!” she said, with a ferocity that made him want to believe her. “I don’t want to die. I want to live.” She pressed her palms to her face, muffling her next words. “I do, God help me. I want to live.”
Canyon’s brow smoothed. He still didn’t understand how she could have forgotten that she didn’t know how to swim, but right now, he believed her. He believed that she wanted to live, which made it hard to reconcile the suicide attempt last night or the pain in her words, unless…
Shoving his sodden hair tiredly from his face, he sat down beside her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” he asked softly. “Are you…sick?” A terminal illness certainly would explain a few things about Grace, though he hated to think there was a death sentence hanging over her head.
She sniffed and when she spoke again it sounded like she was crying. “I guess you could say that. I only have a short time left, and it’s not by choice.”
Heart twisting sadly, he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her in to his chest, holding her while she cried. He tried to think of something to say to ease her pain, but before he could find words that didn’t sound trite or dismissive, she lifted her tear-streaked face to his.
“But I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” she said with a sniff, obviously making an effort to pull herself together. “I knew what I was signing up for when I got myself into this.”
He shook his head, torn between confusion and empathy. “I don’t see how that’s possible, Grace. Nobody signs up for a terminal diagnosis.”
“I did,” she insisted. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. Maybe I’ll be able to explain it to you someday, but for now you have to believe that the last thing I need is your pity.”
“Then what do you need?” he asked, hoping he could give it to her.
“I need you to try,” she whispered, bringing a hand to his chest, letting it rest right over his heart, making him aware of how intimate it felt to have her bare skin pressed against his. “I know it won’t be easy and it’s not what you think you want. But if you try, I believe you can find a reason to keep going.”
He stiffened, sitting up straighter.
“And I can help you,” she pushed on, sliding her hand around to his ribs and holding him close when he tried to pull away. “Just in the time I was underwater, I thought of a hundred things worth staying alive for.”
He shook his head, too stunned to know what to say.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Canyon
How had she known? Was he that transparent?
And if so, why hadn’t anyone else noticed? He’d been planning this for months and no one, from his rodeo friends to his cousin Sheila, the lawyer who’d helped finalize his will, had said a word to him about getting help or holding on.
But maybe they didn’t care if he held on. They all knew the truth. They knew he’d practically murdered his own child and put his ex-wife through hell. They knew that there had been a time when getting high had been so important to him that he’d popped pills before going to pick his baby up at school.
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t had a drink or touched anything stronger than an ibuprofen in four years. Some sins were unforgivable.
“It’s not a matter of finding things worth living for,” he said, pulling Grace’s hand from his waist and setting it firmly back in her own lap. “It’s a mat
ter of getting what I deserve.”
Slowly, in halting words that gradually became longer, smoother sentences, he told her about the day he’d lost everything that mattered. He kept his gaze on the water and his voice a droning monotone, refusing to show emotion or do anything to make her feel sorry for him. He was a monster unworthy of pity and he intended to make that damned clear.
He told the complete truth, every foul, pathetic detail, right down to the two days he’d lied to Reilly about what had happened because he’d been too much of a coward to admit that he was to blame for their son’s death.
And when he was finished and all the ugliness was out, souring the warm afternoon air, he sat with his arms crossed on top of his bent knees, bracing himself for Grace’s response.
He’d only told a few people what really happened—most of them women who refused to believe he wasn’t secretly longing to settle down—but each had reacted in the same way. They’d reached out to him, and when he’d refused to take the comfort they offered, they had done their best to convince him that he deserved forgiveness.
No woman wants to be with a child killer. Ericka and Stephanie and the rest of them had been happy to do the mental gymnastics necessary to make sure Aaron’s death wasn’t a deal breaker for a future relationship. But Canyon knew better, and he refused to be talked into believing he deserved happiness by a woman more concerned with her own self-interests than honoring the memory of his son.
But he and Grace weren’t in a relationship. She had no horse in the race and he wasn’t sure what she would say.
Maybe she would be the first woman to confirm that he deserved to die though he doubted it. He’d only known her a short time, but Grace clearly had a sweet heart. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be wasting precious days of the little time she had left trying to convince a waste like him to hold on.