Page 64 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
Beau continued to tell the men about his experience on that first fire and the others he fought during his first summer as a hotshot. With every story, I felt closer and closer to him. Learning about his past cemented what I’d always known: Beau was as steady as a mountain in a storm. Nothing seemed to scare him.
I couldn’t imagine him young and wide-eyed, like the men in our campfire circle. I bet his parents would attest to Beau always being an old soul. A part of me longed for the chance to meet them and learn about his childhood. To see his baby pictures. To see him relaxed and enjoying time with his family.
A sad and hopeless feeling settled into my heart. Our time together was fleeting. I needed to make a choice: push Beau away and spare my heart any further agony, or take as much of him as I could until our time was up. If that kiss we’d shared was any indication, the closer we got physically, the harder it would be to eventually leave.
The weight of that looming decision drained all of my energy reserves, and my eyelids started to droop. I yawned and patted Beau’s shoulder. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”
“Oh, uh, okay,” he said, pushing up off the ground.
“That’s okay. You stay. These guys would hate me forever if I deprived them of hero-worship time.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Michael and I will be in after we finish our drinks. Here, take a flashlight.”
I smiled and said my good nights to the men. Before I set off across the meadow, I took one last glance at Dylan, still passed out by the truck. Sleeping, he didn’t look nearly as menacing as he had earlier.
Was I being overly paranoid? Dylan was very drunk and maybe I’d imagined the worst. I frowned, mentally cursing Anton Federov. Other than the nightmares, I hadn’t really experienced much post-traumatic stress from Anton’s attack. I had thought I’d come through fairly unscathed, but now I was realizing he hadn’t just done a number on my body with his beating. Apparently, he’d also given me a slew of trust issues when it came to strange men.
Shaking off those ugly thoughts, I made my way back to the outpost. The warmth of my little home chased away the chill I’d gotten after leaving the fire, and grabbing some sleep shorts and a T-shirt from my bag, I went right to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
I was in the middle of brushing and braiding my hair when I heard the door open and footsteps cross the living room. Hurrying, I tugged out the braid and tied my hair in a topknot. Beau must have left Michael at the fire and I was hoping we’d have a few minutes to talk about our kiss the other day.
“Decided to come back after all?” I asked, stepping out of the bathroom. My feet froze. It wasn’t Beau, but Dylan, in my living room. “Uh, hi. What are you doing here?”
Now that we were inside and in better light, I could see how bloodshot and unfocused his eyes were. Dylan wasn’t drunk. He was hammered. It was a wonder he could even stand.
“Just wanted some better company,” he slurred. “Fucking sick of hearing Beau tell the guys how fucking great he is.”
I had made a mistake in thinking Dylan had been passed out this whole time. Had he been waiting for this chance to follow me back? Surely someone must have seen him leave the campsite, right? My heart was racing but I fought to appear calm.
My eyes darted to the door, willing Beau or Michael to walk through it. Dylan’s body swayed back and forth as he stood in silence and watched me. What was he doing here? The worry I’d felt earlier about his mental health was back in full force.
“Do you want some water?” I abandoned my spot by the bathroom door and walked sideways along the far wall. If the bathroom had a lock, I would have barricaded myself inside, but as it didn’t, my gut was telling me to get as close to the front door as possible.
“Where you goin’?” Dylan took one step closer and I stopped mid-step.
“I’m just getting you some water. You look thirsty,” I lied. He looked crazy.
“You know what I’m tired of?”
I shook my head.
“I’m tired of everyone always talking about fucking Beau Holt. The trainers. My boss. My own fucking crew! Be more like Beau. Do what Beau would do. Play it safe like Beau. Fuck safe. And fuck Beau!”
I flinched as he threw a hand out to the side while he yelled. The stumbling, bumbling drunk in front of me morphed into a raging lunatic. His movements, which had been sloppy seconds ago, were now oddly controlled as his anger boiled to the surface.
“Calm down,” I said, holding up my hands and inching closer to the kitchen.
“Fuck calm!” he roared and I flinched again.
“Dylan, just take a breath. Let me get you some water. We can sit and talk this out.”
When I took another step, he came at me with one long stride. “Talk. You don’t want to talk. You want to get over here and gimme a kiss. I saw the way you were eyeing me earlier. Wouldn’t Beau just love that? Walk in on me kissin’ his girl.”
My whole body started trembling. This was too familiar, too terrifying. I’d lived through this with Anton and survived. I had fought to keep Anton out of my dreams. I wasn’t going through this again with Dylan.
I just had to make it out the door. It was time to act fast.
With one huge step, I faked a lunge to the bathroom. Dylan bought my false move and dived for me. I was banking on the fact that he was drunk and his reflexes slow. While his momentum carried him one way, I jumped back the opposite way.
