Page 12 of Danger In The Backcountry
“Lettie, look at me.” Footsteps crunched closer, breaking those same twigs she’d told herself she could use to identify Sam’s tracks. “Please.”
Her body followed his command. Just as it always did. But where she expected the hostility he’d openly shared over the past twenty-four hours, there was nothing but patience. She swiped at her face, expecting another round of traitorous tears, but found dry skin instead. “I don’t think Sam came this way. He must’ve doubled back the way he came. Maybe to find us.”
“I don’t care.” Rome shook his head.
That…was not the response she’d expected. Her mouth felt sticky, her saliva thick with emotion. “What?”
“I don’t care about your black bear right now. I don’t care about this job or that we’re in the middle of nowhere without a fresh water source, and that we might kill each other before we die of starvation and dehydration.” He stared at her like he had in those first few years of their relationship, like an apocalypse could be tearing everything they knew apart but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “You realize that was the first time you’ve shown any kind of reaction to our divorce?”
Her breath hitched. That wasn’t true. No. She’d…
Lettie tried to swallow past the tightness building along her esophagus. She’d done exactly as he said. Never called or texted. Never confronted him for answers. Never fought back. It’d been almost too easy to give him what he wanted. Because she’d known what they’d had was falling apart. That she was letting it fall apart. And so she’d lost herself in her work, made it her entire identity so watching him drift away didn’t hurt so much. The distraction was meant to be temporary, something to giveher enough time to figure out a plan, to fix what was broken. That was what she did. She saw a problem and she offered solutions, and if she couldn’t fix it, then her work was there to keep her from falling apart. Just like it’d done when she learned she couldn’t give him the family he’d always wanted.
But if she was being honest with herself, she was surprised he hadn’t left sooner. She somehow managed to reclaim her voice as the crushing cavern of emptiness doubled in size. “We’re not divorced. You haven’t submitted the papers.”
It was a coward’s answer. A change in subject that wouldn’t get them anywhere, and they both knew it.
Closing the distance between them, Rome kept that intense gaze on her. As though nothing else mattered. And, wow, she’d missed that feeling. Of being wanted. Of being enough for him. Of being his entire world.
He’d always been there. Right from the beginning in that too-cramped library where she tutored him and she’d told him about her dream to work for the National Park Service someday, how she’d change the world by creating a tracking system that allowed zoologists, ecologists, biologists—all thegists—to contribute their data and work to a single database that could be shared around the world. The first step in that plan was designing the device in her pocket, and Rome seemed to mirror the excitement in her voice as she took in his expression. Like he believed in her.
He had, she realized. More than she believed in herself most days, which took the shape of rescheduling dates and several weeks where she barely saw him or their bed. He’d believed in her so much, he’d let her put their marriage on hold. And she… She’d paid for that choice. Was still paying for it.
“We might technically still be married, Lettie, but I lost you a long time ago.” Cutting his attention back toward the trail, Rome seemed to center himself. Like all of this—the trees, the dirt, thecliffs and the wildlife breathed some kind of life into him. Then he was looking at her. “You claim your purpose walked out the door six months ago. Well, here I am. Why not fight for us then? Did our marriage really mean so little to you? I mean, is this what you wanted all that time we were together? Is this where you saw yourself ending up? Living in the middle of nowhere alone, talking to bears with no one to get in your way or interrupt your work?”
She shook her head, and those wretched tears were back, and she wasn’t sure she could stop them this time. Larsons didn’t cry. Larsons didn’t break. Larsons— “I…”
“What, Lettie?” He was so close now, close enough she caught hints of his grounding scent, one that came from years of thriving under the stars and sweat and sun. She’d always loved that scent, hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until she was pressed against him in the sleeping bag last night. It settled at the back of her throat, washing the harshness and rough edges of her thoughts. His voice softened again, as though he were talking to a cornered wild animal, his movements slow. “What is it you want?”
A wave of exhaustion took the fight straight out of her, and she swayed on her feet. She’d been pushing herself to keep up with him over the past two hours, and her body had finally had enough. Maybe her brain had, too. It was kind of hard to concentrate. As soon as they cleared Sam’s name from these killings, she was going to start working out, taking better care of herself, getting enough sleep. All the things Rome had reminded her to do while they’d been married. “You deserved better than me.”
His mouth parted, eyes widening slightly. Good to see she could still surprise him, but it was the truth. She’d spent her entire life trying to be the best. Spent double the time studying than her peers in high school, signed up for twice the amountof social activities to diversify her college applications, worked harder than any male counterpart in her department to get the same recognition from her professors. Top of the dean’s list, full scholarship to the Ivy League schools as well as University of Utah, Brigham Young University and Utah Valley University, her articles published in the best ecology journals the world had to offer. All of it to earn that kernel of approval from her parents. To earn their love.
And, yet, it’d never been enough.
That’s nice, honey, they’d say.What’s next, they’d ask.Does that make much money? Sandy Grayson just made the New York Times bestseller list with her debut nonfiction. You could do that, right? You don’t want to get married. It will only slow you down. Your career is more important than a family right now. Rome leaving is for the best. He was only holding you back. Now you focus on your career again. What is it you’re working on again?
Shallow cuts made over and over throughout the years. None that were lethal on their own but that built over time. Until she felt as though she was bleeding from every atrium in her heart. Reminders that she would never be good enough. Not for them. And sure as hell not for Rome.
You promised you’d be home for dinner tonight. This is the second time this week you’re sleeping in the lab. Yeah, I guess we can reschedule the trip, but I’d really like if we could go soon. But it’s Christmas. Isn’t the lab closed for the holidays? I’ll leave leftovers in the fridge for whenever you get home.
Failure. Failure. Failure. The word thudded hard with the rhythm of her pulse, never-ending and digging deeper and deeper with each sweep of his attention over her face.
Rome reached for her. “Lettie, you—”
His gaze cut over her shoulder, face hardening. She spun in hopes Sam had been lured enough to end this hellish trek through the wilderness.
But it wasn’t Sam standing there, framed by two trees.
“Hello, there.” Tall, slim, clothed in head-to-toe black. The ski mask hid his features, most likely to ward off the cold, but Lettie couldn’t stop the shudder of warning coiling through her. “I was hoping to catch up to you, Dr. Larson.”
She angled closer to Rome, taking a step back into his shoulder. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet.” The crossbow took shape in his hand as he raised it higher. Taking aim. At her. “But you will.”
He loosed an arrow.
Chapter Twelve
