Page 47 of Love By a Landslide

Jonathan cleared his throat and crossed his arms, making it clear that was all he was willing to offer. She hadn’t noticed a welling tear until it trailed down her cheek. She brushed it away, the emotion thick in her throat. “Jonathan, I . . .” What do you even say to someone who experienced something like that? Losing a person you love is one thing, but to see it happen?Fuck. Lucy wouldn’t survive it. The only words she could manage slipped quietly from her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” He let out a heavy breath. “As I said,it was four years ago. I’ve moved on.”

Lucy wanted to drop it, especially since he announced that he had “moved on,” but she couldn’t help herself. “If you’ve gotten past it, why do you still avoid the rivers?”

“Because it’s not a part of the job I particularly enjoy.” He was defensive yet trying to hide it by being curt. “Besides, I have enough guides working for me to handle those excursions.”

She found it hard to believe that he simply didn’t enjoy it. He was doing a poor job of convincing her that his delegation was anything other than classic avoidance. Usually, Lucy would let something like that go. She’d bow out of the conversation, allowing the other person to save face, but the new version—Lucy 2.0—was braver.

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?” Jonathan’s voice was equal parts shock and bluster. The whites of his widened eyes were just barely visible in the dimness of the hammock.

“I call bullshit,” Lucy repeated. Who was this bold woman calling this guy out, especially given their proximity and reliance upon one another? Royally pissing off her guide might prove to be disastrous, but the brave new woman she wanted to be took over. “I think you have unresolved trauma.”

“Pfft. Trauma, sure.” Jonathan’s feet started that twitchy wiggle thing again.

“Yes, trauma.” Lucy was amazed at how good it felt to soldier on in the face of the confrontation. “Did you ever go to counseling? Therapy?”

“Of course not.”

“No one made you go?”

“Made me go? Why would someone make me go to therapy I didn’t want?”

“To support you.” Lucy was getting agitated. “I have so many people in my life that would drag me, kicking and swearing, to the next available support group if I’d been through something even half as impactful. That’s what you do for those that you love.”

“Theydidsupport me,” Jonathan growled. Lucy winced but wasn’t surprised; she was poking the bear after all.

But she wasn’t done.

“How? By letting you bury your feelings instead of helping you deal?”

“No. By picking up the slack when I shut down completely!” His anger was palpable. The hammock radiated with the heat generated from it.

Lucy felt her ears redden and instinctively shifted slightly in an effort to add distance between them. She wasn’t afraid but felt the urge to give him space. After selfishly prodding him—all in the name of proving she could be something other than a meek doormat—she hadn’t considered that how he processed his wife’s death really was none of her business. They weren’t friends. They weren’t lovers. They were just two unlucky souls lost in the woods together. He was keeping her safe and making sure she returned to civilization in one piece. He didn’t owe her any more than that. Yet, here she was, prying into his personal business like she had any claim to know it. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Jonathan held up both hands.

“Look.” His voice and anger cooled. What remained was tense exhaustion. “When Cynthia died, I went catatonic. I didn’t speak or eat for days. Eventually, I got to the point of doing daily necessities: getting out of bed, eating, showering, and making decisions about her funeral. But I couldn’t face the real world. I sure as hell couldn’t face work. So, I hid away. And while I moped and processed alone, everyone else handled the business. Even friends that didn’t work for me pitched in in some way or another. They all rallied and divvied up responsibilities. Withouttheir help, my family’s business would have crumbled. I owe themeverything. And no, they didn’t make me go to counseling. But thatdoes notmean they weren’t there for me.”

Lucy let that sink in. She’d insulted his friends and family by insinuating he lacked a support system or that what they provided him was insufficient. She had spoken with blind arrogance and put him on the defensive, which was far from her intent.

“I’m sorry I pushed. And made assumptions. It really wasn’t my place.”

“It’s fine. I can tell you weren’t trying to start something. You’re too kind for that.”

Why did his assessment make her feel worse? She wasn’t trying to fight, but shewasbeing nosy. It was hard not to be, given their current predicament. But the more time she spent with Jonathan, the more she wanted to know about him. Their acquaintance was lengthier than initially intended, extended because of a landslide that could have spelled disaster for them. But Lucy was starting to think their time together would still be too fleeting. She wanted more. More time. Just more of him. She let out a pensive sigh, cataloging the slew of mixed emotions swirling in her head.

Jonathan laid a heavy hand on her shin. The contact blazed through her pant leg, and heat spread rapidly up her thigh.

“You’re dwelling.” He soothed; any negative tone his voice once held had evaporated. Left behind was an amiable warmth. “That’s far from what I want. It’s true I lost my wife four years ago. And it’s also true that no one made me go to therapy. But I worked through it the best way I know how and have moved on. She will always be a piece of me, but it’s something I’ve learned to live with. Each day is a gift, and I do what I can to cherish that. By taking life one day at a time.” He gave a supportive squeeze. “You hung in there today, despite losing all your stuff. We made greattime, and if we focus on tomorrow and really hustle, we could be back to town by nightfall.”

“That’ll be good,” Lucy let out breathlessly. She had one more day left in the forest with Jonathan. Disappointment butted heads with relief, though the battle was weak because of her fatigue. She’d figure out how she felt about things tomorrow after a night of rest.

He pulled his hand away, leaving a chill behind on Lucy’s leg despite the stuffy confines of the hammock. “Goodnight, sunshine,” he mumbled with a final ripple of consciousness.

Heat spread through her anew.

Chapter twenty-five

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