She hugged herself tight, like she might fall apart at any moment. This makeup thing was really messing with her. Beckett stopped. He had the strangest urge to stay. To just turn the page and start a new chapter in his life. He ran his hand through his short hair. Chapters didn’t start that easily. His phone beeped, interrupting his contemplation. If he didn’t get to his assignment, they’d miss the open window. He’d check the text in the car. Socks.Underwear.
Daisy dug her fingers into her hair at the roots. “Is this how your life usually is? Last-minute departures, nowarning?”
“Sometimes. Other times I have a setschedule.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “So if you had a kid and he had his first piano recital, would youleave?”
The clock ticked and the pressure to get out the door mounted. “I don’t know. Can we have a kid before we have this conversation?” he said without looking up. The zipper snagged and he had to pull it back down to stuff the socks deeper before tryingagain.
Daisy chewed her lip. “I’m not a needy person, Beck, but I need a partner inlife.”
She was in a strange place right now. Her normal sunny outlook was shadowed with clouds. Beckett dropped his bag and pulled her close. “What do you need from me?” Hopefully it was something he could give in the next thirtyseconds.
“I need some time to figure out what I want in the long-term—space to think. I need to be able to think.” She dug her hands through her hairagain.
A car honkedoutside.
“That’s my Uber.” He picked up his bag and threw it over his shoulder. There was something in the air that stuck to him like flour paste. His shoes didn’t want to walk out the door. But he had to go. This was his job—his passion. He kissed Daisy softly. A warm, gentle kiss he hoped explained how he felt better than his wordshad.
As the car pulled away from the curb, Beckett’s soul cried out. Leaving felt wrong, and yet he simply couldn’t see analternative.
Daisy would understand. She’d snap out of her funk and she’d see that they were going to be okay. He had to just keep telling himself that, or he’d never get on theplane.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The two-engine planetouched down on a dirt runway. “Touched down” was a loose term that could also mean “slammed hard and jolted Beckett right down to the roots of histeeth.”
Mentally and physically drained, he poured himself out of the side door and hiked his bag up on his shoulder. The humid air accentuated the fact that he needed a shower. Funny, but he’d never really smelled himself before this trip. He blamed Daisy and her fancy shampoos and conditioners and the essential oils she diffused into the air. He smiled, thinking that she made her home beautiful just by being in it. He arched his back. What he wouldn’t give for a night on her couch. Sleeping in airports and going through customs with an automatic weapon pointed at his chest made him feelaged.
“Beckett?” yelled an Americanboy.
Beckett raised a hand inacknowledgement.
The boy drew closer, and Beckett realized he wasn’t a boy, but he wasn’t much of a man either. “I’m Tray.” He pumped Beckett’s hand. “I’m your translator and liaison with the tribe.” The exuberance of youth and the surety that grew in innocent soil sprinkled across Tray’s face like a smattering offreckles.
“I don’t need a translator; I speak fluentSpanish.”
“Right—but most of the tribe speaks a dialect that’s mostly unknown.” He pulled Beckett’s pack off his shoulder and tossed it over his own. “Car’s this way. Oh, and we’ll be out of cell service in about five steps, so if you have any calls to make, now’s thetime.”
Beckett stopped in his tracks. “Satellite phone?” He was planning on talking to Daisy—daily if at allpossible.
“If you climb to the top of a mountain, which takes about a week.” Tray’s blond hair fell in his eyes and he combed it to theside.
“Okay, I’ll need a minute.” He retrieved his phone and stared at it. How was he supposed to tell Daisy he couldn’t speak to her for a week or more? He’d promised they could talk, that they’d be in constant contact. Instead of dialing her number, he called his dad. He was listed as the beneficiary and emergency contact on Beckett’s files and he made sure to keep them up to date with his location in case they had to retrieve his body. Gruesome thoughts right before heading into a jungle, but that was hislife.
He gave his dad the information and was about to hang up when he said, “I’m glad to see you finally got your head onstraight.”
Beckett rubbed his weary eyes. “Thanks,Dad.”
Dad chose not to hear the sarcasm, said goodbye, and hungup.
Beckett slouched. He would never escape thatman.
The thought lit Beckett up like a torch shining in the dark of night. He couldn’t escape his dad. No matter how far into the jungle he hiked, no matter which country he stayed in, his dad was always going to be there in one way oranother.
“So why am I still running?” he asked no one in particular. Because that’s what he’d been doing. All these years, he’d been running away from home. He didn’t want to run any longer. He wanted to stay, to figure out how to build a home withDaisy.
“Beckett, over here!” Tray waved to him from the bed of a pickup truck. The parts for the new well were safely packed in crates and strapped down to ensure they survived transport on the bumpyroads.
