Page 78 of Love In Translation

Why did he feel short of air? Was he getting sick? Was there something wrong with his circulation? Was he sliding back into CFS? Fletch leaned back in his harness and bumped the ball of his hand against his temple. He was fine, just not as fit as he usually was, out of condition.

Pull your head out of your ass and concentrate, Wright.

Fletch pushed his fingers into a crack, looked for a foothold, and didn’t find one. He scanned the rock, noticed a ledge, and thought that if he could lunge for it, he could scrabble a few yards up the rock face. As he reached for the ledge, an image of Rheo’s bemused face flashed behind his eyes, and he heard her asking him why the hell he was doing this.

He didn’t put enough energy behind his effort and missed the ledge, his fingertips scraping along a sharp ridge. He fell fast, waited for the rope to bite, and cursed when his shoulder plowed into the hard rock. He jerked his head back just in time to avoid it bouncing off the rock too.

Shit! Fuck!That hurt. He panted softly, adrenaline and pain coursing through him.

His radio squawked. “You okay, Fletch?”

Pulling out his radio from the pouch behind his ass, he assured Jason, his belayer and rope master, he was fine. Actually, his shoulder hurt like a bitch, but there was nothing he could do about it right now.

“That was an easy lunge,” Jason told him, sounding puzzled. “You should be able to do it in your sleep. What’s wrong with you?”

So much, Fletch silently told him.

“I need to take a break,” he curtly told Jason. “Give me ten.”

Fletch placed his radio back into its pouch, placed his feet against the rock and sat in the harness. He looked at his bleeding fingertips and wiped them on his climbing pants. He tipped his head back and watched the clouds float across the Kentucky sky. He’d just come off a two-month break and should be energized and pumped. His enthusiasm levels should be at an all-time high. But instead of feeling excited, all he felt was flat and hollow, emotionally washed out.

Climbing, exploring, and being outside were what he most enjoyed, what he wanted to do, and where he wanted to be. But it didn’t mean as much as it did before he met Rheo. God, he missed her. He missed talking to her, hearing her laugh, his skin buzzing with their sizzling chemistry. Sure, he missed the sex, but he missed the person he was when he was with her. Calm, settled, loved.

She loved him, he didn’t doubt it. And he loved her in ways he’d never loved anyone before.

It had taken weeks for him to accept that the strange emotions coursing through his system meant he was in love. He hadn’t thought he’d ever experience it. Then he felt pissed he’d fallen in love with a woman who couldn’t and wouldn’t share this life that was as necessary to him as breathing.

Butwasit? He wasn’t having any fun on this trip. Would he feel the same way when he started his next expedition? What was the point of putting them through all the many hardships, pushing themselves and their equipment, if he wasn’t excited to be there? If he didn’t get the rush of adrenaline, that hit of satisfaction?

Without Rheo in his life, it meant less than it had before. And that made no sense at all.

But she did understand him, and understood exploring was the biggest part of him. She never asked him to give it up; she just asked to love him while he did it. Fletch rested his forehead against the sun-warmed rock and looked through the gap between his knees to the ground below. Nothing made sense anymore, and being alone wasn’t what he wanted to be.

He wanted Rheo in his life.

He needed to start his day hearing her voice, even if she was half asleep and it took her a while to wake up. He wanted to end his day telling her about the hawk that buzzed him, that the sky reminded him of her blue eyes. He wanted to hear how her day went, how she was doing at work, whether she’d met anyone important, translated anything interesting.

He hadn’t given them a chance, and neither did he give any thought to how theycouldwork.

He was an explorer, someone who always found a way through, someone who always had a plan. And a backup plan. And a backup plan for his backup plan.

But with Rheo, he’d just looked at the map and decided he couldn’t succeed, that she was a land that would forever remain unexplored. The lack of action wasn’t like him—he didn’t give up without trying. He had acted out of character because, while he wasn’t scared of getting dinged and dented by Mother Nature, he was protective of his heart.

He was outwardly brave but not, as Rheo informed him, courageous enough to risk being vulnerable.

He’d somehow, without meaning to, found everything he wanted in a woman in one small town in Washington. Whether he was with her or not, whether they talked or not, Rheo held his heart in her hands, and he was at her mercy.

He suddenly knew he wouldn’t get back to himself, to enjoy what he did and the life he’d chosen, until he took a chance. Until he figured out a way to make them work.

He might fail—some expeditions did—but he had to try.

He wasn’t a goddamn quitter.

“Ready to go, Fletch?” Jason asked, his voice muffled.

Fletch looked down and saw Jason standing on the valley floor below him. He squinted. Despite the distance between them, Jason’s worry shimmered off him.

Fletch slashed at his neck and reached behind him to pull out his radio. “I’m calling it, Jase. I’m done.”

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