Teagan!His sister was obviously terrified for him, and no wonder, if their mother had died from the family curse. And now he had Darcy picking up the pace as she jogged down the stairs and toward the woods, afraid that he’d somehow managed to lure the bears right into the retreat by sheer propensity for disaster.
Maybe he hadn’t been hitting on her. Maybe he needed her help, but she was so jaded by years of fending off adulterous tourists and bored dockworkers that she couldn’t recognize honest vulnerability when she saw it. Maybe his fragile sobriety depended on Darcy’s intervention.
She could do this. This wasn’t a written test.
Trail clearing. Some bird-spotting—they could collect data to send to the Audubon Society. A couple of botany lectures. Basics of fire suppression. And alotof alcoholism podcasts. She could keep him too busy to think about drinking.
It was a surprisingly appealing plan. The Goederts didn’t know how lucky they were to have her on staff. The Van Zijls didn’t know how lucky they were to have her on staff.
She shoved down that hurt which was her third run at Ecological Genetics and shoveled over it with this opportunity to actually succeed at something.
Her bad mood from failing her test had kindled into determination. Darcy hustled past the lake, mind brimming with ideas. Rachel Goedert lured vulnerable people to this place with the promise of healing out in nature and then sat them on yoga mats to lecture them about their auras. Darcy could do way better than that.
Darcy expected Teagan to be only a few paces into the woods, given the level of overgrowth on the trail. He had hung the stereo from a high branch of the tree marking the start of the trail, and the staticky newscast of the Bozeman NPR station filled the empty woods. But although she saw evidence that he’d cut back branches for a while, Teagan was nowhere to be seen.
She called his name, to no answer. Perhaps he’d gone back? But everyone else was now on the porch outside of the residence for pottery—she would have seen him. And there were muddy athletic-shoe tracks leading up the hill past the point where the branches had been cut back.
Jesus. This guywouldmanage to get attacked by a bear twice in one rehab stint. Darcy picked up speed and sprinted up the hill, shouting again until she heard Teagan call back from the direction of the waterfall, sounding unmauled for a change.
She found him at the base of the waterfall, standing in the shallows. The stream was fed by snowmelt and freezing even in July, but Teagan had rolled up his chinos and waded into the water to wash off his face and arms. His oxford was tied around his narrow hips, despite the mildness of the day, leaving his long calves and forearms bare. Darcy’s backpack and tools were piled neatly on the stream bank.
Teagan spun around as she approached, a crooked smile blooming across his face at the sight of her. He had a dimplein his left cheek, and the lopsidedness of his mouth made it appear that he was holding half a smile in reserve rather than fully committing to the expression. His golden hair was wild with sweat and pine sap, giving the impression he’d been working very hard, despite the lack of much effect on the clearing of the trail.
“Hi, Darcy,” he said, and then he engaged the last bit of smile he’d withheld.
All her worry melted away like the last bit of ice in spring under the force of that tentative smile. It was boyish, hopeful. Totally charming.
Darcy resisted the urge to smirk right back at the mess of him, because he obviously needed some strong handling in light of his lackadaisical approach to his very serious issues. He probably got away with everything by flashing that dimple. No more! From here on out, Darcy was in charge.
She put her hands on her hips and kept her face stern by biting down hard on her inner lip, which wanted to curve into a matching grin. “This is not very good progress, Teagan,” she announced. “You should have been able to get a lot further. Have you just been hiding out here and listening to the radio?” she demanded.
“No?” he said, blinking those sweetly confused eyes at her. “I worked.”
She would not be charmed! No, she was stronger than that, even though she had the impulse to pat his arm and tell him he’d done an okay job and he’d do better tomorrow.
“You can’t just fuck off from therapy and mindfulness and do nothing all day.” He had a dead mom and a worried sister and a potentially lethal substance abuse disorder. He needed tothinkabout how he was going to put his life together after he left, otherwise he seemed destined to be eatenby some kind of bear, of the figurative if not literal variety. “The whole point of this place is that you need to learn how to do stuff sober—”
“I mowed the lawn,” he interjected, eyes widening.
Darcy paused, taken aback. “What?”
“I went back and mowed the lawn. After group was over.”
Darcy blinked hard at him. The lawn was several disappointments ago. She’d totally forgotten about the lawn, except in the sense that she’d thought she’d have to do it before she could eat dinner.
“But... why?”
Teagan rubbed a hand through his hair, leaving new furrows in the blonde waves. “You seemed like you had a lot on your plate today. So I finished mowing the lawn.”
Her stomach seemed to bounce against her ribs.
“All of it?”
“I think so? It took a while for me to figure out the turns, so some of the places are a little, ah, over-mowed.” He seemed concerned that she might disagree. “I think the grass will grow back. I’m not a botanist though.”
He pressed his lips together in hesitation as Darcy reeled on her feet. He blurted, “I also got you flowers.”
“What?” Darcy said again, belatedly realizing that she hadn’t said anything intelligent in a couple of minutes now. “Flowers? How?”
