Page 177 of Love Me Reckless

“I will.” I turn away before he notices the wistful edge in my voice.

Gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I cross to the resort registration building, a quaint one-story cabin bordered on both sides by bright pink and purple hollyhocks as tall as my waist. When I reach for the door, it swings inward, throwing me off balance, and I crash into a solid wall—only it’s not a wall—it’s my friend Hutch.

“About time, Greely!” He pulls me into a bear hug.

I laugh into Hutch’s chest as relief and a soft warmth spreads through me. His T-shirt smells like him—citrus and a hint of minerals, like he’s already had a swim in the lake. Combined with the rich scent of the pines, my sense of home is complete.

Ryan Hutchins has been my best friend since he moved to Finn River in fourth grade and beat up the bully who kept stealing my lunch. We spend a lot of time apart now that he’s a special forces operative for the Air Force, currently stationed in Florida, and I’m attending medical school in San Francisco. But the separation has only seemed to intensify my messy feelings, and it’s annoying. Hutch and I are friends, only friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.

“Are you checked in?” I ask as we part. From his text that popped up just after my plane landed, I knew he stopped to see his mom Louisa before getting a ride to the resort.

Hutch’s deep green eyes flash with a playful gleam. “Uh, there’s been a bit of a mix-up.” He shoves his hands into his cargo shorts pockets. “Looks like we’re cabin mates.”

“Um, what?” I try to cover my shock with a glance at the receptionist, but she’s busy with a phone call, her focus on her computer screen. “I mean, what happened?” We’ve had these reservations for nearly a year.

Hutch gives me an exaggerated shrug. “It’s cool though, right? You can have the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

I laugh while my thoughts swirl out of control inside my head. A part of me wants to march up to the reception desk and demand another option, but I don’t want to be that girl, especially at my best friend’s wedding. Sofie deserves a stress-free, amazing day. Hutch and I can share a cabin. No problem.

“You won’t fit on the couch,” I say. “I’ll take it, you have the bed.”

“Request denied,” he says airily. “You’re gonna need a good rest after your long travel day.”

His kind smile blasts my protests to bits. “Fine,” I sigh.

He gathers my garment bag and suitcase like they weigh nothing, his muscles practically straining to break free of his T-shirt, and we turn for the door.

Outside, we follow the path past the wedding grounds, the gentle summer breeze coolon my skin.

“How’d your Cardio final go?” he asks as the path descends into a grove of tall pines.

It’s surreal to have been in the lecture hall just yesterday then biking home in the steady commuter traffic. “Oof. I’ve never studied so hard in my life.”

“But you aced it like usual,” Hutch says, shooting me a sideways grin.

“We’ll see. Grades won’t get posted until Monday.”

Through the trees, the deep indigo of the lake glistens in the sunshine. The mineral scent I detected on Hutch strengthens, blending with the sweet notes from the meadow.

“How’s training going?” I ask.

“Brutal like always,” he says, adjusting my garment bag on his shoulder.

Hutch can’t share very much of his military life for security reasons, but I know that they do crazy hard things to prepare for intense rescue situations all over the world. Hutch is a skilled paramedic, an expert rock climber, an endurance swimmer, and regularly jumps out of airplanes in the dark of night. I’m betting he could survive for a week with just a buck knife, scrap of tin foil, and dental floss.

Hutch leads me on the spur to our cabin, a single-story wood cottage shaded by aspens and tall spruce.

“Home sweet home,” he says, opening the door for me.

Inside, a square dining table and two chairs hugs the right side of the one-room cabin, with a tidy kitchenette behind it. A big window over the sink offers a view of the lake. On the left side is a couch, where Hutch has deposited his green duffel and backpack. A ladder in the middle leads to a loft where I’m assuming the bed is located. In the back is a bathroom. As in singular.

It’s only two nights. I can do this.

“You want to take a shower before rehearsal?” he asks, carrying my suitcase and garment bag up the ladder.

He says it casually, but my mind takes a dive. To the gutter.

I force myself to continue into the little kitchen and pour myselfa glass of water from the tap. “Why don’t you go first?” I call out. “You’re faster.”

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