by CP Smith
Nine
Safe to Dream
I made it five steps before Shane grabbed my arm and spun me around. I averted my eyes so he wouldn’t see my pain.
“You’re not leavin’.”
“I can’t stay. You’ve made that abundantly clear. I get it now. It’s fine.” I ran the back of my hands across my cheeks to rid my face of tears, but they wouldn’t stop flowing. I prayed the rain would disguise them for what they were; tears from a broken heart. Broken for Shane and for Emma. Broken for the love I wanted so desperately but couldn’t seem to grab hold of.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
“I’d rather not,” I sniffed.
“Baby, eyes on me,” he commanded again, but in a softer tone.
I caved just as Maxine had said I would. My DNA, it seemed, was synced to obey him. I couldn’t refuse him even if I wanted, and it pissed me off. However, pissed off or not, I raised my eyes as he asked. Instead of finding a blank, lifeless expression as I expected, I found one filled with concern.
“There she is,” Shane whispered, raising a hand to wipe away my tears. “Now, get this through your stubborn head. When I say you’re not leavin’ Trails End, it means you’re not leavin’.”
The change in his demeanor from one minute to the next could give a girl whiplash of the heart, so I pushed his hand away and stepped back. It was best for both of us if I kept my distance.
“You want peace, Shane, and you won’t have it ‘til I’m gone. So I’m leaving as soon as I can.”
“Your safety takes precedence over everything. You’re not leavin’ as long as you have a stalker out there. Chester is convinced he’ll trip up with one of his other victims. So until then, you’re not leavin’.”
I shook my head no. “I’ve disrupted your life long enough. I’m leaving.”
“You think I’ll have peace worryin’ about you out there all alone?”
I looked over his shoulder to keep from lashing out—I didn’t know what he felt from one minute to the next because he was all over the place these days—and caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
“Are you listenin’ to me?” Shane asked when I didn’t respond.
I wasn’t paying attention because a man was standing in the distance watching us. I wouldn’t have cared if he hadn’t been in the dark forest, in the middle of a rainstorm, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses.
Was he the same man from the carnival?
“There’s a man watching us,” I told him.
Shane turned and looked over his shoulder. “Where?”
I’d glanced at Shane when he spoke and when I looked back he was gone. “He was right there.” I pointed where I’d seen him, and Shane searched the forest again. “He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses.”
“Must have been one of the rafters.”
I opened my mouth to explain about the mystery man with the sunglasses when the storm above our heads grew in intensity. Wind tussled the trees and the sky streaked with lightning. I jumped at the intensity, so Shane grabbed the wood from my hands, dropping it on the ground. Then he grabbed my hand and started heading toward the campsite at a quickened pace.
“What about the firewood?”
“They can eat sandwiches tonight. This shit is blowin’ in fast. We need to take cover.”
“Where do you take cover on a river?”
“Tent,” he replied over his shoulder.
“I didn’t bring one. I wanted to sleep under the stars.”
“I brought you one.”
“You brought me one?”
“Yeah, I figured you didn’t have one.”
“That was . . . kind of you.” The man was a mystery rolled inside a brainteaser. He wants me to leave, then he wants me to stay. I couldn’t keep up with his mood swings anymore, which only solidified my reasons for leaving as soon as possible.
When we arrived back at the campsite, Gregor and Jared were wrestling with the rafts, and most of the rafters were huddled in their tents. Shane whistled at Gregor, who then pointed toward the clearing where the tents were set. He nodded then started pulling me toward a smaller tent set away from the others. The rain was coming down so hard I had to hold my hand in front of my face to keep the water from blinding me. When we reached the tent, he unzipped it and helped me inside.
“I need to help secure the rafts and food. I don’t want you to leave this tent unless you think you’re in danger.”
“I think I should help,” I stated. “I’ll be fine; it’s just a little rain.”
“I don’t want you out there. The wind’s picked up and tree limbs will start dropping.”
“The limbs can fall on me in here. I’m being paid to work and I should do my job,” I argued.
Shane’s head rolled back on his shoulders, and he closed his eyes. When he raised his hand and pinched his nose as if searching for patience, I asked, “What?”
“Now I know why Max is angry all the time.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means if you step out of this tent, I’ll tan your hide. Understand?”
That damn DNA thing kicked in again and I nodded in agreement, with short jerky movements. Shane narrowed his eyes as if gauging my truthfulness. He must have believed me because he said, “Zip this closed after me,” and then left.
I looked around and found my bag. Gregor must have known this tent was for me. I moved to it and pulled out dry clothes as the wind howled like an angry ghost.
Once dressed, I opened the sleeping bag and crawled in, hoping to stay warm while I waited for the storm to break.
Somewhere between the heartache that I’d have to leave Trails End without helping Shane and self-pity, sleep took me under. I dreamt of Emma Jane. We were writing our lists of the perfect man, and I could see the words on my page. Handsome, loyal, won’t hit me no matter what, were still there, but the list was longer, it had changed in my dream. I’d added six foot two with gray eyes and one other detail. The last entry on the list caused me to whisper, “Shane,” in my sleep.
It said, broken.
***
Shane scanned the male rafters as they prepared for launch, looking for the one Sage had seen the night before. None was wearing a baseball cap. His hackles had been raised since; his focus tunneled on Sage’s every move. It didn’t sit right with him that one of the rafters was out in the forest watching them. If he had to guess, he’d say the man wasn’t with their group, but he couldn’t be sure. He figured if Sage’s stalker followed her to Trails End, he’d know she had a job with Gregor. He could have easily signed up for the trip in an attempt to get her alone and unprotected. For that reason alone, he was keeping a close eye on those in her raft. A man hiding deep in the forest, in the middle of a storm, implied he was up to no good, and Shane needed backup. If he had a way to communicate with Chester, he’d have called it in the night before. But he couldn’t get a message to him until they stopped for lunch, so he focused on the rafters, watching for anyone who seemed overly interested in Sage.
He was running on little sleep after spending most of the night protecting their rafts and watching the water rise. And he felt it in his bones. To make matters worse, the river was flying, the current swifter than he’d seen it in years. Whitewater roared past them, kicking up foam as it crashed into rocks and timber. The seasoned rafters were jazzed; the excitement thick enough to cut with a knife, and that worried Shane. One wrong move on a river running this wild could cost someone their life.
Sage was prepared to enter her raft, so he moved toward her and grabbed her by the arm. He wanted to make sure she was clear about the conditions they were getting ready to battle.
“You remember everything I taught you?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes were round, flecked with fear as she watched the water rushing past.
“Babe, this river is runnin’ so fuckin’ fast everything I taught you flies out the window. If you go over, turn on your back, tuck your knees to your
chest, and keep your eyes on me.”
“This is a grade five rapid, isn’t it?”
“This is grade heaven and hell,” he answered. “Heaven because your blood races with the speed of the water. And when you make it to the end, it’s like the best orgasm you’ve had in your life. Hell because if you don’t know what the fuck you’re doin’, it can send you straight there.”
He didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to grow wider, but there it was. She looked spooked. So spooked that if he’d had access to a truck, he’d haul her ass back to town.
“Eyes on me, Sage. If you go overboard, keep your eyes on me, and I swear to Christ, I’ll get to you.”
Sage nodded she understood, but she hesitated to get on the raft. Shane took the opportunity to check her PFD and helmet while she gathered her composure.
“Gregor’s as good a guide as I’ve seen. You’re in expert hands with him. Just follow his instructions and you’ll be fine.”
“Right,” she mumbled. “I can do this. I’ll be fine.”
“That’s my girl,” he praised before he could stop himself.
Sage stiffened and looked away.
He’d wanted to push her away so he could breathe, but he’d gone too far, got caught up in the emotions swirling around in his brain. Now sadness clouded her expression, and it burned his gut he’d been the one to put the look on her face.
“Time to leave,” Gregor called out, saving Shane from having to cover for the slip. Sage turned immediately and climbed into his raft, securing her feet under the thwarts.
“I’ll keep your girl safe,” Gregor said as Shane turned to leave.
“She’s not my girl.” The word liar ran through his head, and he locked his jaw.
“And Mia ain’t the clumsiest woman in the world. We can argue the point all day long if need be, but it doesn’t make it not true,” Gregor hooted, slapping Shane on the shoulder before he headed for his kayak.
Shane looked back at Sage to see if she was listening and found her back was turned to him. The day before, she’d smiled and interacted whenever possible, now she had a wall up. It didn’t sit well with him, but it’s what he’d wanted. At least, he kept telling himself it was.
“It’s for the best,” he mumbled as he shoved off the bank and entered his kayak.
Gregor took the lead again, directing the rafts down the meat of the hole as they picked up speed. Shane had his throw bag—a weighted bag with a length of rope used to rescue a rafter—at the ready. He knew today would be an exhausting exercise in rescue and recovery.
The gear boat finally headed through the hole and Shane followed. The river was fast, too fast. His kayak jarred him with each wave he hit, throwing water in his face, restricting his visibility, and jarring his teeth.
They made it a quarter of a mile before their first mishap. Raft 2 didn’t follow Gregor through a hole correctly, they hit it river right and were caught in an eddy. He heard Jared call high side, but the hydraulics upended the raft and spit the rafters out. Jared held his position at the rudder and rode the vortex until it let go of the raft, then began maneuvering toward the fast moving rafters. Shane made his way to a rafter and tossed out his throw bag, then held on as Jared made his way over to him. He repeated this four more times until all were back safely in the raft heading down the river to where Gregor had paused to wait for them.
Rinse, repeat and do again. That’s how Shane spent his morning.
They made it to the designated take-out point, and Joel was waiting as he’d done the day before. When Gregor banked the raft, Joel extended his hand to Sage.
“The man has a death wish,” Shane grumbled as he pulled his kayak from the water. Then he remembered he had no right to be jealous. And had to keep reminding himself as he watched Joel interact with Sage as he secured his kayak.
“Let her be,” he said under his breath. “Get used to seeing this." As much as he wanted her, he wanted to protect her from his demons more. That meant letting her go. Unfortunately for Shane and his vow to step aside, Joel decided to reach out and smooth her hair out her face. Sage balked, and Shane reacted immediately. He strode with purpose and grabbed hold of Joel’s arm, escorting him to the trail that led back to his truck.
“What, man?” Joel asked, trying to break the hold Shane’s had on his arm.
“Sage doesn’t have time to talk. She’s being paid to work. And I need you to get a message to Chester.”
“You afraid of a little competition, Sherman?”
“I’m not your competition.”
Liar.
“Damn straight you’re not,” Joel snickered.
Shane shoved him when they reached the trailhead and pointed a finger at Joel’s face.
“Stay away from Sage and I’ll let you live,” he bit out.
Joel’s cocky demeanor slipped and he raised his hands. “My bad, man, I thought you were gay. I wouldn’t have made a play if I knew she was yours.”
Shane froze and then scowled.
“I’m not . . . She isn’t . . . Fuck me, I’m gonna wring Suzy’s neck . . . Just get a message to Chester for me. Tell him there was an unknown man in the woods keepin’ an eye on Sage.”
“You think the stalker is followin’ her on the rafting trip?”
“How did . . . Never mind, with Maxine involved, the whole town knows. Just get the message to Chester.”
“On it,” Joel said then turned and took off down the trail.
When Shane made his way back to camp, Gregor was waiting for him. “You sure she ain’t your girl?” he hooted when Shane walked past.
“Shut it, old man,” Shane ordered. He ignored Gregor’s chuckle, kept walking, and went to work checking the rafts for leaks.
Lunch was quick. The rafters were still jazzed from the first leg and chomping at the bit to hit the water again.
Shane had kept his distance from Sage as they loaded for the second leg. She’d gotten the hang of her equipment the day before, so he had no need to check her. She didn’t look as nervous as before the morning run, but he could tell she was still apprehensive.
The need to reassure her sat like lead in his gut, but he ignored it, climbed into his kayak, and waited. They had a waterfall to navigate in one hundred yards, and he needed his wits about him. If they didn’t hit the falls in the right position, the drop could dislodge the rafters, pulling them into the falls and under.
Shane kept his attention locked on Sage as they paddled.
His gut burned hotter as they grew closer to the falls, and he picked up his pace. Just like the day Emma had lost her life, his instincts told him to be ready for anything.
Then it happened.
Fifty yards from the waterfall, Sage turned her head and looked at him. Then she jerked and turned entirely in her seat, distracted.
“Turn around,” Shane thundered.
Her raft hit a wave, jolting the front before Gregor could grab hold of her. Sage lost her balance and fell back, her feet coming out from under her. Shane watched helplessly as she hit the water. Gregor threw out a line as he tried to steer around her and missed.
Fear the likes he’d never experienced pumped through his veins as he watched her head for the falls.
Pumping his arms double time, slicing through the rough water as quickly as he could, Shane navigated around the rafts, his attention zeroed in on Sage as she fought the current.
Directly ahead of her was a boulder. She would collide with it within moments, and if the river didn’t pin her against it, possibly drowning her with its force, she’d spit out the other side and over the falls.
Waves crashed over her head, pushing her below the surface, then she popped up sputtering for air. She tried to get on her back like he’d taught her, but the rapidly flowing river tumbled her. Shane was within ten feet of her when she hit the boulder. The water’s crushing power pinned her there, pushing tons of water into her face.
Shane roared, “Sage!” when she went under. The only visib
le parts of her body were her hands pinned against the rock—reaching out for help.
At the last second, Shane turned and headed for the bank. Ripping free of his kayak, he bound back into the water, swam to the backside of the boulder where the current was calmer, and pulled himself up to the top. He lay on his stomach and reached over, trying to reach her hands. He snagged one at the wrist and started pulling until her head was clear of the water.
“Hang on, baby,” Shane shouted as she coughed water out, gasping for air.
He tried to pull her higher so he could reach her other arm, but she began to slip. “Don’t let go,” she coughed out, clawing at his arm.
“I won’t let you go. Reach up and grab my hand,” he ordered. A surge of water pushed Sage further around the side, and he followed so he wouldn’t lose hold. She turned her body so she was cast to rock and looked up at him with frightened eyes.
Using his feet, he inched forward like a worm and reached down further over the side. “Baby, give me your other hand.”
Still fighting the current, she reached up and caught his hand with the tips of her fingers. They held for a split second, then slipped. “Shane,” she choked out, spitting water from her mouth, “I can’t . . . I can’t reach you.”
The terror on her face reminded him of Sloan’s every time they were on the front lines, and for a split second, he saw Emma’s face instead of Sage. His heart began to thunder harder in his chest. He would not lose her too. He would not allow this woman to die on his watch. This woman who’d crawled beneath his skin and buried herself firmly in his heart.
“Sage,” he shouted over the roar of the river. “Baby, reach out and I swear to God, I’ll grab hold and won’t let go.”
She held his eyes, searching, then choked out, “Prom . . . promise?”
Lying on his stomach, his arm burning as he held on tight to her wrist, he knew then, with a clarity of a thousand beckons, he would never let her go. Not now, not ever. He may be damaged, broken even, but it finally sunk in she would be the salvation of his soul if he’d let her. He only had to reach out and grab hold, then the endless nights of torment would be replaced with a sweetness that would slay his demons, be his light in an otherwise dark world.
