“Come on, boys. Plenty of other jobs in Pinecrest.” He aims his parting shot at Emily with a sneer. “Ones that won’t endanger my pack.”
The canvas flap slaps closed behind them, leaving the tent empty. Emily’s shoulders sag a fraction before she squares them again, gathering her equipment.
Outside, the workers resume their day. Through the tent flap, I spot Jared lingering at the edge of the site, standing apart from the others, and I wonder if he’s waiting for someone to give him direction.
“Going back to Quinn and the cookies?” Grady asks, his attention also on Jared.
I hesitate. “In a minute.”
Grady nods in understanding. “I’ll head backdown to Cabin One and give Holden a heads-up to expect you.”
He moves toward the exit, pausing beside Emily to exchange quiet words. He returns her thermos, and his hand lingers on hers in a gesture of support before he leaves.
Left alone in the back of the tent, I consider my options.
Return to the safety of Holden’s kitchen and Quinn’s innocent enthusiasm for cookie sprinkles? To a world where I’m accepted without question? Or do what I know is right?
Emily passes me on her way out, a thermos tucked under her arm that I imagine she brings on the off-chance Grady will join her for lunch. And Jared’s not on her crew, but she protected him like he was. Like it’s natural to extend a hand to help others.
She pauses, gray eyes assessing. “You didn’t have to come.”
“No,” I agree. “But I’m glad I did.”
Her head dips in acknowledgment. “He’s not what they’re making him out to be.”
“I see that now.” The admission feels like stepping out onto thin ice. “I should have realized it sooner.”
She studies my face for a moment, and when I don’t say more, she continues on her way.
Through the open flap, I catch Jared pushing away from the wall where he’s been waiting. He moves with deliberate casualness toward the dock path, head down, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
I recognize the posture. I’ve worn it myself.
Before I can second-guess my decision, I leave the tent to jog after him. Workers raise their heads as I pass, curiosity evident in their expressions. In khakis and a polo, with the sun turning my hair dark violet, it’s clear I’m out of place here.
Jared’s pace quickens as he nears the path leading down to the water, eager to escape the weight of scrutiny.
I lengthen my stride to catch him at the trailhead, my call carrying across the distance between us. “Jared.”
He stiffens, bracing himself before turning. Surprise registers on his face when he recognizes me, then wariness replaces it, his body angling away, preparing for another blow.
“Boat’ll need a good scrub after all this rain,” I say, the words casual. “Bottom’s probably collecting algae.”
Confusion flickers across his features, his brow furrowing. “What?”
“The water taxi,” I clarify, stopping a respectful distance from him. “After heavy rain, the lake bottom kicks up sediment. Creates a film on the hull.”
Jared blinks, hood slipping back to reveal more of his face, where the bruises have faded to greenish-yellow smudges. “Yeah, it does.”
“Quinn loves gross things from the ocean.” I slip my hands into my pockets. “I’d have to get her pack’s permission, of course, but maybe we could come down tomorrow afternoon to help you clean it up? In the name of science.”
Understanding dawns in his expression, followed by cautious hope. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I reply, echoing my words to Emily moments earlier. “But six hands make faster work than two.”
Workers pass us on their way back to the construction site, heads turning in speculation.
Jared’s shoulders hunch before he forces them straight again. “Why would you help me?”