Page 23 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

“Are you playing that night?” I ask.

“Yep, ten thirty.”

Evan comes on the line, sounding breathless. “Tour guide, huh? Make sure you still get some fun out of it, too, okay?”

The memory of Quinn’s panty-melting kiss returns, but I shut it down before my blood starts pounding. “It’ll be plenty fun. Fishing. Glacier tours. Music.”

“Bring them by if they want to mountain bike or take out the SUP gear.”

“Thanks, I’ll tell them.” I glance at the clock. “Crap. My shift is starting.”

“Love you, girl,” he says.

“Love you too.”

I lock up the office and hurry down the stairs, daydreaming about tomorrow. I’m taking Quinn and Dawson fly fishing for rainbow trout on one of my favorite stretches of river. We’ll hike a little, then fish until they drop. I cover my laugh.

They were so cute at the gear shop this morning. Saying yes to everything I suggested, their pile of purchases growing by the minute. We laughed so hard that Thomas sent me a dirty look, even though I scored him the biggest windfall of the summer.

The best part was their enthusiasm. Like they’re yearning for adventure too. Excited for the unknown—together.

Fun indeed.

ChapterSeven

DAWSON

I wakeat 3:15 am, my heart pounding. Blinking into the dim light in the room, I inhale a full breath and wait for my pulse to slow, then wipe my eyes and peel back the covers.

In the bathroom, I fill a glass of ice-cold water and swallow it down. The nightmare’s gone, but it takes a little longer for the unease to ebb. It’s been like this since I was sixteen. Since that night.

After getting dressed, I tiptoe down the stairs and carry my guitar outside. The air is cool and thick with dew, but soft sunbeams peek through the clouds, turning the foothills golden. Despite how I feel about this place, there’s no denying its beauty.

I tune the strings and start playing. My fingers always feel stiff at the start, but I’ve learned not to be impatient. With my foot tapping along to the melody and my voice gaining strength in the gentle morning air, I stop thinking about the past, or the future. Music brings me back to myself, reminds me that I’m still a good person.

Or that I can be one again.

Sometime later, Quinn brings me a cup of steaming coffee. He sits on the edge of the deck, the sun on his face. I finish the new song I’m working on, then join him.

“I like that one,” he says, squinting at me.

I nod and sip my coffee. When my dad broke my guitar the night he had me sent away, I swore I’d never play again. But as soon as I managed to get free of Hawthorne Academy, a guitar was my first purchase. Before pizza and ice cream. Before a phone.

I was so rusty after two years that I almost quit. Quinn didn’t let me.

Even though it didn’t last, I don’t regret following my dream. I’m grateful for the nights I had on stage, singing my heart out.

“Did you get at leastsomesleep?” Quinn stretches both shoulders, then squints at me. “Big day today.”

“Fly fishing isn’t exactly taxing.” I gaze across the braided McKenzie River to the jagged peaks beyond.

“I have a feeling that with Lexie, it will be.” He raises an eyebrow, then hops to his feet and pads inside.

Lexie.

I think of the way her long, dark lashes outline her intelligent green eyes.

She reminds me of the high from that incredible night in Three Rivers, when all my hard work had paid off. Though she was a stranger to me, the two of us shared something precious. When it all crumbled to pieces, I had to forget about sweet Alexis—Lexie—and her pretty smile. Forget about my dreams.

---