Backwoods (12 page)

“I think we found the nudists,” Nathan said.

They all burst out laughing. Brooke felt dizzy from a mixture of tension and relief. She’d assumed the woman was being attacked, but she’d just stood there. Leo was the one who’d stepped forward to protect her. He was still holding the arrow.

“Where did you get that?” her mother asked.

“In the woods,” he said, tucking it away again.

The couple returned, covered with beach towels, a moment later. They must have left their belongings by the hot springs. The man said they were visiting the U.S. from Croatia. Their names were Jakov and Petra.

“Do you have a cell phone?” her mother asked, cupping a hand to her ear.

Jakov nodded.
“Ya.”

“Can I use it?
Por favor?
”

They followed Jakov and Petra to a nearby campsite. Jakov found his cell phone and handed it her mother. Although she couldn’t get a voice call through, she was able to send a text message to Ray detailing their whereabouts and asking him to report the theft to the local authorities. Leo communicated with the couple in a combination of languages, explaining that they’d been robbed at Echo Lake.

Her mom returned the cell phone with a profuse thank-you. Instead of staying in the campsite, the couple got ready to leave. They waved goodbye and set off down the trail.

“Do you think they understood you?” Nathan asked.

“I don’t know. Their Spanish wasn’t much better than their English, and they didn’t speak Portuguese.”

“What were you going to do with that arrow?”

“I have no idea,” he replied, smiling.

“He could have swatted it away from you like a fly.”

Leo arched a brow. “I think he could have beaten me up with his dick.”

They all laughed like crazy at this exaggeration, unable to pretend they hadn’t noticed Jakov’s male endowments. Brooke almost died. Nathan doubled over and staggered sideways. Even her mother joined in, giggling until she cried.

“I don’t blame her for running away,” Brooke said, sending them off again.

“Remind me not to go to Croatia,” Leo added. “I can’t compete.”

Brooke hadn’t laughed so hard in months. The humor was adult and juvenile at the same time. It felt weird to share this moment as a family, but good. If they could make fun of penises, they were getting comfortable with each other.

“Seriously though,” Nathan said, sobering. “That was brave of you.”

Leo stopped laughing. He looked bewildered, as if he couldn’t believe his father was actually giving him a compliment.

“He’s right, Leo,” Brooke said. “That girl was screaming bloody murder and I just froze. I didn’t know what to do.”

“That’s a common response to a dangerous situation,” her mom said. “Most people move slow instead of hurrying to help. Some can’t move or think at all.”

“Where did you hear that?” Nathan asked.

“I’ve read a lot of books about survival psychology,” her mom said.

“She’s obsessed with worst-case scenarios and disaster prep,” Brooke said. “If you need to know how to escape a submerged vehicle, she’s your girl.”

Nathan smiled in approval. “I’ll remember that.”

“You can’t predict how anyone will react during an emergency,” her mom said to Leo. “It takes a special sort of person to push aside their fear and be a hero.”

Leo’s eyes watered as he listened to her. They all fell silent, watching him with interest.

He must have been embarrassed by the display of emotion, because he walked away, pinching the bridge of his nose.

CHAPTER TWELVE

L
EO
STAYED
AT
the edge of the campsite for a few minutes.

Pulling himself together.

He wasn’t a hero, and he hadn’t done anything special. He didn’t enjoy being put on the spot or patted on the back. It was better than getting criticized for puking, he supposed, but the situations felt similar. Both of his reactions had been instinctive, rather than deliberate. If he’d stopped to consider the size differential, he wouldn’t have jumped in to help.

His dad was trying to win him over with nice words, and Leo wasn’t going to fall for it. He didn’t like this pressure in his chest. With some difficulty, he blinked the tears away. He didn’t like crying, either.

When he was dry-eyed and guarded, he returned to the group. This campsite was even more primitive than the last one, with a single fire pit and a small clearing for tents. There was no outhouse; they were going to have to dig holes. Gross.

His dad was setting up a tent in the shade. Brooke went to gather water with Abby. Saying nothing, Leo approached his dad and started helping. When Brooke returned to camp, she passed out a handful of pistachios and dried apricots. Leo would have killed for a burrito. Even a bowl of cereal or some fresh fruit sounded good.

Anything but more nuts.

“What else is there?” he asked Brooke. “I’m still hungry.”

She gave him two sausage sticks, which he devoured. Abby opened a bag of pretzels and shared those, also.

“We’ll have a heartier meal tonight,” Brooke promised.

They finished the snack and drank tepid water. The sun had burned through the late-day clouds, bringing a muggy, hazy heat. Leo felt like stretching out in the shade and napping until dinnertime. His dad sat down with his back to a tree trunk while Brooke and Abby ducked inside the tents to change. Leo found a low-lying boulder to use as a recliner.

A few minutes later, Brooke emerged from the tent in her bikini and flip-flops. She had a towel draped over one arm. Abby’s towel was wrapped around her waist in a more demure, ladylike fashion.

“Are you guys coming?” Brooke asked.

“We’ll catch up in a minute,” his dad said.

Leo was too lazy to protest. He tucked his hands behind his head, following the sway of Brooke’s hips as she left camp.

“Has Ray talked to you about her?” his dad asked.

Leo knew what he was getting at. “Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“That he’d cut off my balls if I touched her.”

“Is that why you haven’t?”

Leo didn’t answer. It was a trick question, and he wasn’t stupid. “I guess you don’t think I’m gay anymore.”

His dad looked puzzled. “I never thought you were gay.”

“You asked me if I was once.”

“When?”

“After soccer practice. I was eleven.”

His dad squinted into the distance, as if trying to place this conversation. “The coach’s son called you a name on the soccer field.”

“Faggot,” Leo supplied.

“I told you it didn’t matter if you were gay.”

“If it didn’t matter, why bring it up?”

“I couldn’t just let an insult like that slide.”

“Because you were afraid it was true.”

“No,” he said, frowning. “I wasn’t.”

“Come on,” Leo said. “I sucked at soccer, and at baseball, and at football. You know you were looking for a reason.”

“You didn’t try hard enough. That was the reason.”

Leo’s temper flared. He straightened, pushing away from the boulder. “I did try, but you were never satisfied. You wanted me to be the best on the team because you were the best. Average wasn’t good enough.”

His dad stared at him with a confused sort of guilt, as if he knew what he’d done, but not why it was wrong. He was a superstar athlete; of course average wasn’t good enough for him. The problem was that Leo had never been better than average.

“I did try,” he repeated. “I just didn’t have the passion for it that you did. I felt out of place on the field.”

“What do you mean, out of place?”

He wasn’t sure how to explain it. “I didn’t belong.”

“You feel like you belong when you’re surfing?”

Leo shrugged. “I can surf on my own, at my own pace. There’s no pressure to score. It just fits me better. So does playing music.”

“Then why did you change majors?”

“I decided music was more of a hobby for me than a career.”

“Wow,” Nathan said, shaking his head.

“What?”

“That sounds very mature.”

“You think I’m incapable of acting like an adult.”

“No. I just can’t believe how grown-up you are. I missed so much.”

Leo fell silent, wary of another emotional upheaval. He could handle his dad’s criticism, not these...warm fuzzies.

“Do you remember my friend John Christie?”

“No.”

“His son committed suicide when he was fourteen. Six months before I had that conversation with you.”

Leo hadn’t known that. He looked at his dad, curious. “Why did he do it?”

“He was getting bullied at school. Other boys called him gay.”

“Was he?”

“I don’t know. John didn’t think he was, but they’d never talked about it. He told me he wished they had.”

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t worried about you being gay, Leo. You seemed aware of pretty girls at a young age. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, I guess. It never occurred to me that you might like both boys and girls.”

“I don’t.”

His dad smiled wryly. “The important thing was that you knew it was okay with me. John had no idea that his son was depressed. He’d assumed Jordan was straight, maybe for some of the same reasons I assumed you were. But I didn’t care either way. I didn’t want you to hate yourself or decide you’d rather end your life than be who you are.”

Leo wondered how he could have misinterpreted the discussion so badly. He rose from the ground, full of resentment and ambivalence. He didn’t like feeling sad about their shitty relationship.

“I can see that I should have communicated this to you back then,” Nathan said.

“Too late,” Leo replied. “For everything.”

His dad stood up to face him, his eyes full of pain. It felt good to hurt him, good and bad and mean at the same time. Leo told himself to walk away before he started crying again. His dad looked sort of choked up, too.

Fuck
this
.

“I was thinking,” his dad said, clearing his throat. “I’ve never been surfing. Maybe you could give me a lesson.”

Leo wanted to say no way, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words. “You’re too old,” was the best he could manage.

His dad laughed, wiping his eyes. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Leo said, but his voice wavered. Shit.

He stormed into the tent and changed into his board shorts. Leo was determined to sit in the hot springs until his inner turmoil soaked away. Not bothering to wait for his dad, he took off down the trail.

Brooke met him halfway there. She was wet and flushed, carrying a long walking stick. “Look what I found.”

“A stick?”

“I thought we could tie the arrow point to the end and make a real fishing spear.”

His dad passed by in his swim trunks, glancing at Leo over his shoulder. Leo knew that Brooke was trying to arrange for their parents to be alone together. She clasped his hand in hers, pleading silently for him to go along with it.

Damn her pretty blue eyes.

Smothering a sigh, Leo followed Brooke back to camp. He had a leather cord in his pack that they could use to affix the arrow to the end of the stick. While he was searching for it, his fingertips brushed the plastic container where his pot was stashed and a wave of longing hit him. He hadn’t smoked weed for two full days. If only he could sneak away. He needed the escape, the instant mood lift.

After stashing a bud in the pocket of his board shorts, he pulled out the leather cord and attached the arrow to the stick. It made a wicked-sharp spear.

Brooke grinned at the sight. “Will it work?”

He doubted it. “Maybe. Do you have any aluminum foil?”

“Yes.”

“Give me some.”

“What for?”

“To use as a lure.”

She rifled through the supplies and located a square of foil, which he placed in his pocket. Good thing she was clueless about drugs. She didn’t have any idea that he could mold the foil into a disposable pipe.

They hiked down the trail until they found a convenient fishing hole. A huge pine log had fallen across the river and become lodged horizontally, blocking the flow. The deep, calm area on the other side was perfect.

“This is so awesome!” Brooke gripped his biceps. “Maybe we can stay here tomorrow. Take a break from hiking.”

Leo wouldn’t mind staying an extra day, but not if it meant more heartfelt discussions with his dad. He’d rather return to his regularly scheduled summer. Surf, sun and smoke. He couldn’t wait to sleep in his own bed and listen to music. He had to figure out a way to get his car back, too. Doing yard work or chores usually sufficed. As long as he promised to drive sober, he didn’t see the problem.

He followed Brooke across the log with caution. It felt steady, but the surface was slippery. She stopped short, fighting for balance. When he put his hand on her waist, she bent forward, as if aligning her ass to his crotch might help. He felt like shoving her into the water. Or urging her down on her knees.

Instead, he let go and she leaped to the other side of the log with nimble grace. Her blond hair was loose and wavy today, her swimsuit striped with earth tones. She reminded him of a wood nymph.
La belle dame sans merci,
from the poem he’d read in high school.

“What did you and your dad talk about?” she asked.

“Nothing important.”

They spent the next twenty minutes trying to spear a fish, with no luck. Brooke kept distracting him by pressing her breasts to his arm. He told her she was crowding him and she wandered off. When she didn’t come back, he straightened, searching the shore for her.

“Brooke?”

No answer.

Pulse racing, he ducked into the copse of trees beside the river. There was no sign of her. “Brooke?”

Maybe she’d gone to the hot springs. He hadn’t seen her leave, but there could be an alternate route. Frowning, he headed toward the fallen log. Just before he reached it, she jumped out from behind a boulder and scared the hell out of him. He stumbled backward in the mud, tossing the spear away. When she tried to help him stay upright, their legs got tangled up. Forward momentum propelled them both to the wet ground.

She fell on top of him, laughing.

Leo pushed her onto her back. “You did that on purpose.”

Unrepentant, she scooped up a handful of mud and dropped it on the center of his chest with a splat.

It wasn’t funny. He’d been carrying a sharp object. This stunt could have resulted in one or both of them getting hurt. She’d also hidden from him and made him worry about her. He’d had it with her playful manipulations.

Did she think she could jerk him around with no consequences? Tease and taunt him just for kicks? He wasn’t much taller than her, but he was stronger and heavier. He had greater upper body strength. He could hold her down and teach her a lesson.

Sweeping mud into his hand, he deposited it on top of her head, smearing it all over her lovely blond hair.

There. Take that.

Her eyes went wide with shock. Then she gritted her teeth like a feral animal and began to wrestle him in earnest.

This meant war.

She locked an arm around his neck and tried to shove him into the mud. He laughed at the feeble attempt, evading her easily. But Brooke was a force to be reckoned with. She scrambled to her feet and tackled him from behind, determined to take him down. He hooked his arm around her thigh and tried to shake her loose. They broke apart, rolling around in the mud and throwing it in each other’s faces. No dirty trick or body part was off-limits. If she could have kneed him in the groin, she would have.

In the end, he came out on top. She was pinned underneath him, panting from exertion. His belly was flat against hers, his fists buried in her gritty hair. Every inch of her skin was splattered. Her bikini strings had come loose in the melee. He could feel her breasts against his chest, slippery and bare.

He groaned, fighting the urge to grind against her. He wanted to grip her hair tighter and slide up and down, back and forth, creating delicious friction.

Instead, he released her and crawled away.

She didn’t bother to cover her breasts. They rose and fell with every breath, mud-speckled and perfect.

He became painfully aroused. Gripping his dick to keep it from sticking out at a 90-degree angle, he hobbled to the edge of the water and submerged his filthy, overheated body. The cold shock withered his hard-on. He winced at the unpleasant sensation.

Brooke fumbled with her bikini top and followed him into the river. “You cheated.”

“I won fair and square.”

“You untied my top.”

He might have gotten his hand tangled in it, but not on purpose. “You put mud in my shorts.”

Smiling, she ducked under the surface.

Leo scrubbed at his face, his neck, down his shorts and behind his ears. He had mud everywhere.

Brooke was in worse shape, with thick clumps in her hair. She swished her hair around in the water and threaded her fingers through the strands to remove the dirt. When she was finished, she straightened and turned toward him. Her bikini top was still untied. Her breasts were exposed, nipples like cherries. While he watched, mesmerized, she gathered the loose strings and secured a knot at the nape of her neck. He backed away, wading toward the shore. She joined him on a flat rock in the late-afternoon sun.

He reached into his pocket for the pot he’d stashed there. It had crumbled into mush.

Brooke put her head on his shoulder, shivering. She probably wanted him to put his arm around her. He’d tried to teach her a lesson about teasing him, but she’d enjoyed it. He didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t even smoke pot to fade away. When she snuggled closer, seeking warmth, he leaped to his feet.