“You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?” He heard some heavy nasal breathing, and then, “The Forks, Callahan? Have you lost your mind?”
His scalp prickled in a familiar way, and instead of confessing to her that the whole river trip had been his brother’s idea and he’d only insisted on the Forks of the Kern run and its Class V rapids to scare Cory off the notion, he dropped the temperature of his tone a couple more degrees and said, “No, don’t think I have.”
“Okay, then, you can’t be serious.”
“Why’s that?”
“Oh, for—” There was a long pause, filled with some more of that breathing. “You’re going to make me say it? Okay, I’ll say it. You can’t do a Class V run. Not the Forks.”
Another shower of prickles enveloped him, and it was like getting hit by a gust of wind-driven sleet. Five years he’d dreamed of hearing her voice again, talking to her, and he should have known it would be like this, picking up right where they’d left off. Shouting at each other. Just proved he’d been right to end it when he did.
He closed his eyes and fought to hang on to his temper. “I’ve made that run a dozen times. You’ve been with me on most of ’em. What’s the problem?”
“Jeez, Matt. That was more than five years ago. Before—”
“Before I got hurt? Before I was paralyzed? Last time I checked, you didn’t need legs to row a boat. Somebody change that when I wasn’t looking?” He felt a childish urge to brag, to tell her how he played basketball and tennis and won medals in wheelchair races all over the country and had a good chance of making the U.S. Paralympic Team, if he put his mind to it. But he managed to keep his mouth shut, and after listening to the silence on the other end of the line, said in his coolest drawl, “Alex? What’s the matter? Scared I won’t be able to do it, or scared I will?”
“Okay, but I’m sending two Class V guides.” She’d cleared her throat, but her voice sounded raspy anyway.
He’d always loved that little froggy voice of hers. Never failed to stoke his fires, not then. And evidently not now, either.
“Why? You already got me. You only need one more.” You, Alex? You’re a Class V guide, too.
“Two. Besides you. And that’s not negotiable.”
He sat for a minute, smiling to himself, savoring the moment. Making sure to keep the smile out of his voice, making it sound grudging, he said, “Who’ve you got?”
There was an exhaled breath. “Tahoe, for sure.”
“Tahoe—he’s that big dude with the beard, the one that does trips in the Andes in the off-season, right? Surprised he’s still around.”
“He isn’t, always. But he’s here right now. He’s the most experienced Class V guide we’ve got. Him, definitely.”
“Okay. Who else?” Come with us, Alex. Come on—I dare you.
Another whoosh of breath. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. I’ll find somebody, okay? I just need to—Jeez, it’s four in the morning, Callahan, you really expect me to think?”
“Hey, you called me, Alex.” He tightened his fingers on the handset, half expecting her to hang up. When she didn’t, he eased himself back onto the pillows and said softly, “So. How are you? Doin’ okay?”
“I am. I’m good.” A caught breath…a pause. “How are you?”
“I’m doing just fine. I guess you heard…my brother—”
“Yeah, he stopped by here. That’s so amazing. How’s it been? The two of you…”
“Oh, it’s been—” he gave a short laugh “—a little unreal, actually. I find out I not only have a brother, but a couple of little sisters, too. I’m still trying to get my head around it. But, yeah, it’s amazing.” Lots to tell you, Alex. I’d like to tell you all about it, the way we used to tell each other everything. We used to be friends—best friends, remember? When we weren’t being lovers…or mad at each other and yelling—or not speaking.
God, I miss you, Alex.
Had he said that out loud? He didn’t think he had. But he could have. The nearness of that disaster made his scalp crawl.
“So…I guess I’ll see you in a couple of days, then.” Was it his imagination, or did her voice still sound strange? Sort of muffled.
The handset had grown slippery in his grasp. He put his free hand over his eyes and pressed on his closed lids, and was surprised to discover there was moisture there, too. “Okay—yeah. Guess you will.”
“Well…bye, then.”
“Yeah. Take care now.”
“You, too.”
The phone went dead in his hand, and for a while he sat with his eyes closed and held it. His chest had a hard lump of emotion in it he didn’t know what to do with, a little like that moment right after he’d met Cory for the first time, in the hallway outside the locker room. Like he’d done then, he tried laughing and swearing and whooshing out a breath, but none of those things helped. Not this time.
It hurt too much. And he was too damn big and strong to cry.
“Dieter’s gone? He’s the only other Class V guide we’ve got, besides Tahoe. What do you mean, he’s gone? Since when? Ah, jeez, Booker T—”
“Hey, don’t kill the messenger.” Booker T held up his hands and tried—unsuccessfully—to look innocent. “You know how these guides are—come and go as they please, especially those Class V guys. Bunch of adrenaline junkies. I guess the season’s about getting started up there in Idaho, on the Salmon, and Dieter told me he wanted to get there for the spring runoff—said that’s the best water. Who am I to tell him he can’t?”
“You told him he could go? You told him? You knew I needed two fives for this Forks run. I don’t have anybody else available.”
“Sure you do. Tahoe and you. That makes your two.”
“Yeah, but I’m not going. How can I? Somebody’s got to stay here and run this place.”
Booker T was in the process of shouldering a pair of oars. He paused to snort. “You know good and well if you don’t go you’re not gonna be worth a nickel around here anyway. All you’re gonna do is sit here and worry the whole time they’re gone.”
“Dammit, Booker T, who’s the boss of this outfit, anyhow?”
“Well, you are, sweet pea.” He got the oars balanced and started for the bus, but not before he threw her a wink.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know very many employees get to call their boss ‘sweet pea,’” she yelled after him. “Tell me why I don’t fire your ass!”
Booker T’s cackle drifted back to her. “Because if you fire my ass, the rest of me’d have to go along with it. Then you wouldn’t have anybody to tell you when you’re full of—”
“Booker T—”
A shadow blotted out her sun. She whirled to face the man-mountain who had cast it—her one remaining Class V river guide, whom she knew only by the unlikely name he’d given her when she’d first hired him five years before: Tahoe Jones. His wild auburn hair, backlit by the sun, formed a fiery halo around his deeply tanned face, and his full, dark brown beard failed to hide his grin.
“Looks like it’s you and me, boss.” Tahoe jerked his head toward the blue SUV with handicapped plates that was just then pulling through the open gate. “Can’t very well cancel now.”
Alex opened her mouth to offer a retort, but found it had gone dust dry. Keep it together, Alex. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Don’t you dare. She stood stock-still and watched the SUV roll across the yard and into a parking place beside the half-loaded bus. Like it belonged there.
The hell it does! Anger blew through her. Blessed anger. Cold fury.
She started across the yard toward the SUV, all set to inform the person driving the damn thing that he was going to have to park down at the Rafting Center, like any other client. But Booker T and Tahoe were already converging on the driver’s side of the vehicle with grins and gestures of joyous welcome. The tinted window rolled slowly down, but from where she stood, Alex couldn’t see who was inside. A wave of dizziness washed over her, a remind
er that it had been some time since she’d taken a breath. She hissed one in, whooshed it out, put her hands on her hips and elected—wisely—to stay where she was.
As she watched, the world around her seemed to shrink; her focus narrowed down until it was like watching the scene through a telescope turned the wrong way around. From far, far away Alex saw the SUV’s side door slide back, saw the wheelchair lift emerge, then slowly descend.
Oh God, this hurts.
A hard, painful knot formed beneath her breastbone. Once again she reminded herself to breathe as her mind flashed back to those awful days and weeks and months of visiting Matt at the rehab hospital.
Oh God, he looks just the same.
Same brown hair, maybe a little longer, maybe a little more wavy. Same finely honed features that were in no way effeminate, and he’d shaved off the beard he’d worn the last time she’d seen him. Same poet’s mouth curved in a Huck Finn grin. Mattie’s grin. Mattie’s smile.
How dare he look just the same!
From a vast unbridgeable distance she watched the wheelchair disengage from the lift, and Booker T move in for some macho hand-gripping, backslapping, and yeah, some male-bonding-type hugging. Then Tahoe and Matt did the cool hand thing all guys seem to understand and know how to do. Nobody appeared the slightest bit constrained by the fact that one of them was in a wheelchair. To them, obviously, he was just…Matt.
Why can’t I feel like that?
I wish I could, but I can’t!
Because he’s not the same, dammit. Matt—my Matt—is strong and graceful and full of life and mischief and laughter. His body is beautiful. He moves like a thoroughbred racehorse. It’s a pleasure just to watch him. And his hands…he has the hands of a sculptor. And when he touches me—
“Alex?”
She jerked around to face Cory, letting go of another forgotten breath that told her one thing: plainly, the pain in her chest had nothing to do with breathing. Thrusting the pain ruthlessly aside, she pasted on a brilliant smile and said, “Well, I see you guys made it.”
“Alex, this is my wife, Samantha.”
The woman standing beside Cory was tall, athletic-looking and blond, her hair cut short and worn casually tousled, styled by natural influences rather than expensive hairdressers. She wore light tan cargo pants, a khaki T-shirt, aviator shades, and judging from the part of her face Alex could see, a pleasant though neutral expression. Which didn’t change as she thrust out her hand and said, “Hi, Alex. And it’s Sam.”
Her grip was strong, Alex noted. Firm, no-nonsense. She’d do okay with the paddles. “Sam,” she repeated, still automatically smiling. “Nice to meet you. And welcome to Penny Tours.”
She tried not to, but from the corner of her eye she could see Matt wheeling himself across the yard flanked by Tahoe and Booker T. The three were making their way toward the warehouse, making slow progress as other members of the crew, loaded down with supplies for the trip, paused to extend greetings or be introduced, depending on how long they’d been with the company.
The pain under her ribs twisted sharply. What, he’s not even going to say hello? He can’t even face me? What the hell is that?
“As you can see,” she went on, with an arm sweep that took in all the activity around them, “we’re in the process of packing for your trip.” She glanced at Cory and dryly added, “Most of our clients don’t get to see this part. Guess Matt’s having some trouble remembering he’s the customer on this run.”
Cory gave her a smile and one of his piercing looks but didn’t comment.
As the three of them began walking toward the open warehouse, Sam moved closer to Alex’s side. “I know it’s not easy,” she said in a low voice, and with a Southern accent that was unmistakable but not strong enough to be annoying. “Believe me, you’re talkin’ to one who’s been there.” She paused, then took off her sunglasses and gave Alex her eyes—unexpectedly dark, and even more unexpectedly, filled with compassion. “Pearse tells me it’s been about five years since you two saw each other. That’s about what it was for us, too—maybe not quite as long, but close. It was hard. And trust me on this, too. Him bein’ in a wheelchair’s got nothin’ to do with it.”
Since she couldn’t think of a thing to say to that, Alex replied with a short huff of breath—what Matt would have called a snort. She saw Sam and Cory trade smiles and long looks before Sam once again tucked hers behind her aviator shades.
He could at least have come over to say hello to me. He started this. He’s the one that wanted this craziness. I’ll be damned if I’m going to him.
She set her lips—Matt would have said stubbornly—as she separated herself from her clients and veered toward the office’s back entrance. “Since you’re here, you might want to watch the guys pack up the gear. It’s kind of interesting to see what goes into a run. The big scary-looking guy with the beard is one of your guides. He can explain everything, answer any questions. I’m going to…uh, I’ve got some things…some paperwork to take care of, so if you’ll—”
“One of our guides?” Cory had paused with one hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Matt tells me we’re required to have two for this run. May I ask—who’s the other one?”
Alex flashed him a desperately brilliant smile. “Looks like that would be me.” Before he could respond, she brushed past Eve, who was leaning against the wall near the office door, pushed it open and escaped into the air-conditioned office.
Since what she wanted at that moment more than anything was to be left alone, she wasn’t thrilled when Eve followed her in.
“So, they made it.” Alex didn’t comment, so Eve went on. “He looks pretty good—considering.”
“Yeah,” Alex said, studiously avoiding looking at her, instead picking up a handful of mail and giving it her focused attention. She glanced up briefly to add, “Why don’t you go say hello? You knew him, right?”
“Sure.” Eve gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I will.”
But she stayed there, fidgeting, getting on Alex’s already frayed nerves. Being in no mood to deal with one of Eve’s sulks, Alex smacked the stack of envelopes down on her desktop. “What, Eve?”
“Jeez, don’t get mad.”
“I’m not—”
“I just don’t see why you have to be the one to go on the run. Okay? There’s only three of them, it’s not like Tahoe can’t deal with it.”
“Yeah, well…I’m going. Okay?” Alex paused, took a breath and made an effort to soften her tone when she saw Eve’s lips compress in that hurt way she had. Was that what they called passive-aggressive? “Look. They’re my responsibility, and I’m not handing them off to someone else. You can handle things around here while I’m gone, right?”
“Yeah.” Eve exhaled grudgingly. “Sure.” Still she made no move to go.
“It’s three days, Eve. Then he’s gone.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Eve lifted one shoulder and turned to go.
Alex did a double take. “Wait. What would make you think—Wait, dammit. Eve—”
The door closed quietly. Alex clamped a hand to the top of her head, then closed her eyes and swore.
What the hell are you doing, Alex, hiding in here? Making such a big deal about this? Get out there and face the man, you know you have to sooner or later. Did your mama raise you to be a coward?
She made a growling sound and strode with grim determination to the door. Her heart was pounding and her hands were cold as she pasted her smile back on her face and opened the door.
But the blue SUV and its passengers had already gone.
Matt paced the open space in his brother’s motel room, as someone wheelchair-bound paces, rocking forward and back, angled first this way, then that way. Going nowhere, while his mind raced in circles.
Shouldn’t have gone over to the yard, man. You don’t have the right…and anyway, what were you thinking? Maybe she’d fall on her knees and beg you to come back
? Yeah…right—after the way you brushed her off? When snowball fights break out in hell.
So you went over there. Then you don’t even go and say hello to her? What’s that say? That you care too damn much, or you’re a gutless coward. A wuss, as my kids would say. Either way, you’re screwed.
Either way, it hadn’t been his finest hour.
And instead of having gotten it out of the way, he still had it to look forward to—his first face-to-face with Alex since that day at the rehab hospital. Awful day. He closed his eyes, pressed his fist against the pain in his chest and whooshed out air, but the memories came anyway.
Alex fidgeting, arms folded across her waist, looking anywhere but at him…looking like she’d rather be anywhere but there, with him.
“They tell me I’m going to be ready to leave here in a couple weeks.”
She nods, says, “Good. That’s good. I’m glad.”
“I’m getting a place….” He waits, she nods. “Physical therapy…you know. I guess that goes on for a while yet. So…I guess I’m gonna need to be close to this place for now.”
She nods again. He sees her swallow. His chest is full of knots, and his mind is screaming, What the hell’s wrong with you, Alex? This is me—Matt. Don’t stand there like you’re a million miles away—say something, dammit!
Then she does, and it’s, “Okay, so I guess that’s what’s best, then. I understand. That’s cool.” She sounds like a stranger.
And he wants to yell at her, No, it’s not cool. It sucks. It’s my body that’s all busted up—inside I’m the same guy. The one who runs the big rapids with you, makes you laugh. The one who loves you…makes love to you. My God, Alex, can’t you see that?
He knows it’s not true, even while he thinks it. He’ll never be the same man he was. And he can see she knows it, too.
Smart woman, Alex.
Hey—I made it easy for her, that’s all. Clean break—that’s always best. Right?
A knock at the door kept the rest of it at bay, for now. He knew from long experience the memories would be back. The memories from before…and after. He had a feeling they always would.
Daredevil's Run (The Taken Book 2) Page 5
