Lincoln nodded. “You’re right. Let’s keep going.”
Eliza resumed the climb. He kept bringing up his success—at first bragging about it, now downplaying it. What was his game?
“Do you mind if I ask you one question?” Lincoln’s words now came between puffs of exertion.
“Sure.” Eliza braced herself.
“What did you mean by being lost in life?”
Eliza relaxed, warmed by his interest. “I think I’ve been chasing this dream, and now I’m wondering if it was the right dream in the first place.”
“But Bree said you have the perfect life—career, apartment, car, party scene.” A pause grew, pregnant with intent. “Lots of guys.”
Eliza tensed. She knew when a conversation was being led somewhere. “Maybe life is more than that.”
“So you don’t have anyone in your life at the moment?” Lincoln’s question trailed up with a lightness that felt forced.
Her suspicion ran ahead of her, waving frantic flags. Eliza slowed her pace and closed her eyes, reining in control of her breathing to center herself. Her pulse slowed as the moment arrived. “Do you?”
“Not anyone serious. At the moment.”
Eliza could feel Lincoln tense behind her as he fell silent. This was not the old Lincoln who could have represented his country if talking were an Olympic sport. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“What was so bad about a letter that made you snap at Bree?”
“It was a misunderstanding.”
“But she’s really upset, and whatever’s in there, she didn’t read it.”
“Fine. I’ll apologize again.”
“And you didn’t answer my question.” She turned to him, and his gaze drifted to her nose. “Tell me if I’m prying.”
“You’re prying.”
The screeches of the white-and-pink galahs filled her ears as Eliza resumed the climb. One minute Lincoln was concerned about her, the next he was quizzing her about her private life while slamming doors on his own. The old dynamic threatened to scratch its way to the surface, and she didn’t want to let it back out. Not fifteen years later.
Eliza stepped onto a finger of rock that stretched over the riverbed a hundred feet below. The metal security fence creaked, sagging as she leaned on it, and Lincoln joined her. The wind whipped at the wisps of hair escaping from under her cap as she pulled out her canteen. “We need to talk about Andy. I’m really concerned about him. I’m wondering if he’s got a drug problem, so can we talk to him tonight around the fire? As friends?”
Lincoln’s eyes softened, the eyes Eliza had lost herself in ages ago. She batted away the sparking reconnection. “Of course. That makes sense. He’s been pretty cagey since we all met in LA.”
Above them, a wedge-tailed eagle screeched to a midflight halt, a hovering fixture in a crystal-blue sky unblemished by clouds.
Back down the path, Bree’s and Eddie’s heads appeared on their way up.
“Andy said one other thing down there at the water hole. He said you started all his problems back in college.”
Lincoln shrugged, his face a blank slate. “No idea. Started off his problems? With what?”
The distant chatter drifted up to the lookout. Lincoln’s leg muscles rippled in the sun, and Eliza forced herself to stay in the present.
Lincoln leaned against her. “You know it’s good to talk again, Lize. It’s been ages since we’ve been able to talk properly. We could talk about anything back in school.”
Eliza shook her head. Lincoln had been more than an old friend in college until she’d drawn the curtain across it—and she hadn’t spoken to him “properly” in more than a decade.
Lincoln stared into the reflective blue-green of the water hole below, the wind tousling his brown hair. Like it used to. “You know, I’ve always wondered what our lives would have been like had we stayed together.”
And there it was. She had to put a stop to it. Now.
Eliza turned to him and folded her arms with a hint of defense. “We were kids back then, and we didn’t know what we wanted.”
Lincoln’s eyes were no longer hard but soft. College soft. “To be perfectly honest with you, I haven’t had a relationship that’s worked out since.”
Eliza’s resolve steeled. She didn’t want to rehash things that belonged in the past, much less be blamed for them. As much as she had told Bree before their flight that she’d moved on, it was becoming clear that Lincoln hadn’t. And he was using her as the reason to stay stuck in the past.
* * *
Andy leaned against the four-wheel drive as the group disappeared into the scrub to take in yet another wonder of nature. He had to fast-track his plans, and Eliza would not be the ally he had hoped for. She was fast becoming the biggest threat.
Sloaney rounded the vehicle. “You coming with us, mate?”
Andy nodded. “In a minute.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Taking some time off and working out here, maybe at a cattle station.”
Sloaney bobbed his head. “I’ve got a mate who’s got a place. A small holding, only about a quarter of a million acres.”
Perfect. “Could you put me in touch with him?”
“Sure. What can you offer?”
That was a question Andy had never considered. A job in the outback wasn’t something to do. It was somewhere to go.
Sloaney leaned in with a whisper. “What’s your deal?”
Andy stood back as he tried to pump genuine indignation into his voice to conceal his anxiety. “Deal? No deal. I thought working in Australia for a while might be fun.”
Sloane’s eyes narrowed. “I could put you in touch, but there aren’t a lot of jobs out here at the moment, with the drought and everything. Maybe when we get back into town?”
“I’d like to call them before that if I could. Maybe on your satellite phone?”
Sloaney folded his arms. “Why all the cloak-and-dagger stuff? Aren’t you all flying back through Sydney to the States?”
Andy’s breath caught in his throat, and he nearly choked as the flies found his gaping mouth. He spluttered as he regained his composure.
Sloaney hadn’t moved, one eyebrow now cocked. “You sound like you’re not planning on going home at all.”
Twelve
Bree breathed through her sleeve as choking plumes of red bone-dry dirt flung into the air. Eddie’s spade bit into the ground below a wholly unremarkable olive-leaved bush.
“So if we go down here . . .”
Bree blanched at the thought of what he was searching for. She stood back, less for her own safety from this flashing blade and more to put distance between her and these “grubs.” She wasn’t eating bugs—chicken-tasting or not. Not when there was real chicken back at the campsite. She had hit her limit with the red berries Eddie had found. They were sweet and tart. There. She could say she’d eaten bush food.
Thunk. Eddie’s spade hit something solid. “Perfect. Here we go.” He reached for a tomahawk and chopped at the thick ropey roots. The ax’s blade flashed in the sun as his sinewy brown forearms strained under sweat.