Whatever It Takes by Lindsey Pogue

Author:Lindsey Pogue [Pogue, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-01-18T06:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

Reilly

Hickory-smoked bacon . . .

The aroma revives me from sleep—that and Mac’s cursing in the tent next door. Peeling my eyelids open, I blink the world into focus. The memory of a faraway place, where my mission was to keep the upper hand by blending in and remaining silent—a place where men were brothers and every day was uncertain, but predictable, too—quickly dwindles from thought.

“Shit!” Mac rasps.

I tap on the nylon walls separating our tents. “Everything okay in there?” I ask, trying to keep my amusement to a minimum.

“Yeah, sorry,” she breathes, and then I hear what sounds like her falling over.

I can’t help but chuckle. “You sure? You need some help?”

“Ha. Ha. As much as I know you want to see me in my skivvies, I think I can manage.”

“Darn,” I say and sit up.

“Hey, Reilly?”

Flinging my sleeping bag off my bare legs, I stretch and reach for my duffel. “Yeah?”

“Are you naked in there?”

Again, I laugh, unable to resist. I look down at my boxer briefs. “Not exactly,” I say and reach for a rolled up clean t-shirt in my bag. I’m shaking it out when a thought occurs to me. “Why, are you naked?”

“Of course,” she says lightly. “Sam and I always sleep naked together. Didn’t you know?”

I grin at the thought. Hearing zippers and more rifling around, I assume she’s nearly dressed.

After I pull my t-shirt over my head and don a pair of shorts, I stand, hunched over in the crux of the tent and off-kilter as my mind and muscles gradually awaken. Water. I need water.

Grabbing my toothbrush and Titans baseball cap—my favorite cap I’d found in my room from when I was in high school—I unzip the tent and step outside into the warm morning. I’m momentarily blinded as my vision adjusts. The tan tent beside mine shakes like a wild animal is loose inside until Mac tumbles out and into my arms.

“Shit!” she rasps again and looks up at me with eyes and skin devoid of make-up for the first time . . . ever. “Thanks,” she says, righting herself and pulling down her tank top. “My foot got caught up in the strap thingy.”

“No problem.” I bend over to pick up the Ziploc bag containing my toothbrush and paste. As I straighten, my gaze meets Sam’s. She’s wearing her glasses. Though they were a Sam staple growing up, she rarely seems to wear them anymore. It brings me unexpected pleasure to see fragments of the old Sam as she stands over the large, cast-iron skillet, flipping bacon as she takes a sip from her mug.

I nod a good-morning.

“Morning,” she says before dipping her gaze back down to the frying pan.

I walk past her to the spigot up against a redwood trunk. After splashing water on my face, I go through the motions of readying my toothbrush and brushing my teeth.

There’s movement from Nick’s tent, and he gradually climbs out. “What’s all the damn noise about?” he grumbles, running his fingers through his hair.

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