“The message I’d left earlier at the extraction point was untouched,” he told her, clarifying his Nothing yet, as he looped the towel around his neck and sat down on the sofa, keeping to the edge of his seat because he was going to continue to sweat for a while. And although there was deodorant in Ted’s guest-packs of toiletries, it wasn’t quite Navy SEAL strength. After he cooled down, he’d shower and use it, although it was weird to smell like someone else, probably Ted, which was vaguely unsettling.
Tasha had curled up in her usual place on the other section of the sofa’s L and was watching him, clearly waiting for him to continue. He realized then that along with losing the towel-hat, she was down to just one blanket and one bathrobe over her shirt and jeans. Her red hair cascaded down the white blanket that she wore like a cape as she watched him—Tasha’s eyes in this beautiful woman’s face. A woman who was no longer a stranger.
Thomas cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious about his lack of a shirt, so he spread his towel out across his shoulders. “So I left a second. Message. But no one’s been in the area at all. I still have... high hopes for tomorrow morning.”
“Seriously, Pollyanna?” she said, her eyes dancing with laughter. “Are they also apple-pie-in-the-sky hopes?”
It was hard not to laugh with her. “I’m being honest with you here, and you’re mocking me?”
“Damn straight,” she said. “Where do your high hopes fall on the scale from We’re definitely going home tomorrow to It’s time to start hunting bunny-wabbits?”
“Pretty close to the center,” he said.
“So, fifty/fifty?” she asked.
No. The fact that no one had shown up by now meant that something was seriously wrong. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she continued to gaze at him. “So a fifty percent chance that no one will rescue us tomorrow means your hopes are high. Interesting.”
“I’m a SEAL,” Thomas reminded her. “My job is to expect the worst, so yeah, I’d agree that a fifty percent chance that something might actually go right means I’m very hopeful.”
“When did you become such a shitty liar?” she asked, surprising him. Again.
“I think I’ve always been a shitty liar,” he admitted, “but you were too young to know it.”
Tash was quiet for a moment, just watching him as he finished the bottle of water. But then she said, “Well, it’s nice to meet the real, grown-up you. What does pretty close to the center really mean?”
“That I think we might be here for a while,” Thomas hedged.
“We,” she said. “Not just me? Because that whole Plan B where you leave me here and hike back to the airfield? I absolutely veto that.”
Thomas knew his best response wasn’t to argue—he was in charge, so her so-called veto meant nothing. Instead, he simply continued his sit-rep. “After I left that second message, I went back to the lodge, to see if anyone had been there since I was there last, and yeah, there were fresh tire tracks. I followed them, although I really didn’t have to. Whoever these guys are, they’re definitely not trying to hide the camp they set up. Big fire. Lots of smoke and light. High-end tents. At least twenty men, all heavily armed. A single vehicle, though—a small SUV.”
“One SUV with all those men?” she asked, picking up on that detail.
Thomas nodded. “Yeah, they’ve definitely got another camp somewhere, with that van and the other vehicle we saw during the roadblock.”
“Maybe the cabin where they brought me...?”
“Maybe.”
“How far away from the pod were they—this camp you saw?” she asked. “Because we should be even more careful when you leave. I mean, to go to the extraction point to check for messages, not for—”
“I know what you mean,” he said.
“And maybe we—you—should, I don’t know, camouflage or somehow cover—”
Thomas interrupted her again. “This shelter’s concrete bulwark? Yup. Already done. As of yesterday morning.” He stood up, ready for his shower.
“Wow, it’s useful having a Navy SEAL around,” Tasha said. “I mean, the always-thinking-and-planning-for-disaster thing might be worth the serious deficit in optimism.”
“Might be?”
“Jury’s still out,” she told him. “I’ll let you know.”
He had to laugh—and the question came out, almost involuntarily. “So is Ted an optimist, too?”
Her gaze turned thoughtful, as if she were considering her answer carefully. “I think maybe you’re asking if Ted’s a happy idiot, like me?”
“Nuh-nuh-no. I do not think you’re a happy idiot,” he countered.
“But you think maybe Ted might be...?”
“Nah,” he said, drawing the word out, but yeah, she recognized another lie, and she laughed, shaking her head at him.
“First, he’s not even close to an idiot,” Tash said. “And he’s definitely not happy being groomed as the future king, but... He’s generally optimistic. Not necessarily about the things that matter most in his life, which is a shame, but day-to-day, I’d say, yeah.”
Thomas could see that Tasha realized he didn’t understand what she’d meant about Ted not being optimistic about things that mattered. Like, what kind of things? But he didn’t have to ask—she kept going. “Ted probably has exactly what it takes to get through a program like BUD/S, for example.”
Thomas felt his eyebrows rising, and she rolled her eyes at him and waved her hand, dismissing his disbelief.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, Navy SEAL BUD/S training is for the best of the best,” she continued, “and Ted’s some soft, spoiled prince. But he’s smart, he’s strong, he’s creative, he’s a fantastic team player, and he doesn’t have any faith in himself, whatsoever, so he’d never even try. He quits before he even thinks about starting. That’s Ted’s MO. But in the little, seemingly unimportant day-to-day things, or during the times he doesn’t stop to think, he just acts...? Like, Hey, the sky is really blue today, let’s climb that mountain! Or Look, that car has engine trouble, let’s stop and help and figure out how to fix it with the random things in our pockets and bags! That’s Ted’s MO, too.”
“He sounds...”
“Complicated?” Tasha finished Thomas’s sentence for him. “Yeah.”
“I was going to say interesting,” he said.
“Most complicated people are.”
And now she was looking at him like she could see inside of him, which made him nervous, because he wasn’t quite sure himself why he’d started this conversation about her soon-to-be-fiancé.
There was a spark of hope, and yeah, plenty of optimism, in the warmth of her eyes, so Thomas went back to the unsettlingly honest thing she’d said to him, and echoed her own words. “You know, it’s nice to meet the real, grown-up you, too. I’m glad we’re friends again, Tash. I really am. And Ted sounds like he’s pretty great, so... I’m happy for you.” He’d buttoned that badly, so he finished with, “You need to use the bathroom before I, uh, hit the shower?”