I start to pull away, but Shawn grips my wrist and pulls me closer. He cups my face with his free hand. “Let me be clear, Beckett. I amnottelling you that I don’t want to know what thisis or that I’m confused about what I feel. Because I’m not. I knowexactlywhat I feel for you, and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”
My heart begins to pound, and my stomach twists into nervous knots. All while warm desire burns through me, radiating from his thumb caressing the inside of the wrist he’s still holding.
“Grief doesn’t have a timestamp. And as much as you believe you’re ready for something else, we both know you won’t be until we find the truth. Maybe not even then,” he says softly as he moves in closer, pressing my hand to his heart and closing the distance between us. “I need you to understand, Beckett Wallace, that you have torn me apart in the best possible way. You’ve consumed my every thought since the moment we met, and seeing you standing there in my precinct the other day was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long,longtime.”
I stare up at him, unsure and certain of nothingbuthim all at the same time.
“But when this dust clears, I don’t want to be something you regret because you jumped in before you were ready.”
He caresses my cheek like I’m something to be treasured.
To be loved.
“I will help you find the truth, and I will be here whenever you’re ready. No matter how long it takes. Because I’m not going anywhere, Beckett.”
Trees pass us by in a blur as we drive through Mount Rainier National Park, headed toward the parking area closest to the crash site. Despite the time that’s passed,Shawn wanted to come out here and compare the files to the actual crash site—or what’s left of it after ten years.
Lauren is in the back seat, silent as she’s been since we climbed in two and a half hours ago. Not that I’ve been overly chatty myself. Between everything I’ve learned since yesterday and Shawn’s declaration to me this morning, my mind is little more than a mushy blur of guilt, grief, attraction, and something so close to love it’s scary.
Shawn turns left and pulls into a nearly empty parking lot. There are only two cars here, and both groups seem to be eating at nearby picnic tables.
After putting his truck into Park, Shawn turns to look at me, then Lauren. “We stay together, okay? No veering off.”
“Yes, sir,” Lauren says in a mocking tone I’ve come to realize is her own defense mechanism. She’s hurting—badly.
Shawn’s completely unaffected by it as he gives me a lingering look, then climbs out of the truck.
When the door closes and he goes around to the back to get our hiking gear out, I take a moment to breathe.
“You guys have so much tension it’s smothering,” Lauren comments.
“What?” I turn toward her. Truth be told, I’d forgotten I wasn’t in here alone.
“You and Detective Sampson there. The tension between you two is so thick it makes it hard for the rest of us to breathe.”
“I don’t?—”
“Don’t worry about it. I get it. Truthfully. No disrespect to my dad or anything. I just think you need to realize exactlywhyhe’s doing this and not pretend it has anything to do with simple friendship. We’re all going to have to move on with our lives when this is over. Remember that.” She climbs out of the truck without giving me the chance to respond, and it takes mea moment to gather my thoughts, but after a brief hesitation, I climb out of the truck and join them near the back.
“So what exactly will this prove?” Lauren asks.
“I need to see if the site matches what’s in the files. We already know there are inconsistencies given the missing flight logs no one flagged, but add to that the fact that Beckett was attacked rightafterI requested the files. I want to see if anything else is off.”
“But it’s been ten years,” she insists as she buckles her backpack over her chest and around her waist.
“Broken trees don’t grow back overnight,” he says. “If the crash is truly what killed him, we’ll find evidence of it. Hopefully.”
“‘Hopefully,’ he says,” Lauren mocks. “I’m not big on hiking, so here’s hoping that hopefully is a definitely.”
I smile softly. Does she realize how very much like her dad she is? I was always the one wanting to go camping out of the two of us.
“What?” Lauren asks when she realizes I’m watching her.
“Your dad wasn’t big on hiking or nature either.”
“Are you?”
“Love it,” I reply. “I’d go for monthly camping trips with my dad growing up; then we’d go at least once a year after I was an adult. Right up until he passed.”
