Page 19 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Zeeb shook his head. “A damn sight smaller, for one thing. But we had horses, lots of ’em.” He smiled. “You know what? You know more about me than all those guys in the bunkhouse, an’ probably the boss too.”

Nate frowned. “Don’t you talk to them?”

He shrugged. “I talk all the time. Jus’ not about anything important.” He sighed. “Lucas was a long time ago. They don’t need to know about him.”

“But knowing about him would help them to know you better,” Nate remonstrated. He paused. “What do you do when you’re not working? Do you ever go into Bozeman? Take a vacation? Do you know anyone outside of Salvation?”

He couldn’t explain the flood of questions: Something about Zeeb made him want to know more.

Zeeb didn’t reply right away, and Nate had a feeling he’d hit a nerve.

“Forget I asked. You don’t have to tell me anything. You’ve already told me plenty.”

Zeeb twisted the cap on his bottle of water, and tipped his head back to drink half its contents. He set the bottle on the ground.

Still he said nothing, and Nate’s stomach roiled.

What have I said?

At last Zeeb took in a deep breath. “Y’know, before you arrived, I’d been thinkin’ about stuff like that. And I’d come to a conclusion.”

Another pause.

Nate bit back a smile. “You can’t leave it there. I’m dying of curiosity.”

Zeeb drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, a defensive gesture Nate recognized instantly. He stared at the lake.

“I think I need to shake my life up a bit. Maybe do things outside of my comfort zone.” He glanced at Nate. “Just like you’re doin’.”

Nate had started this conversation, but now he wanted to end it.

He gazed at the vista. Mirror Lake stretched out before him, glassy and still, the late afternoon sun catching its surface and turning it into molten silver.

Nate stood and went to the edge of the water, his hands on his hips, dust on his jeans, sweat cooling on his skin. The silence here was thick, almost reverent, broken only by the occasional bird call and the low rustle of wind through pine.

Behind him, Zeeb was humming a tune. Nate didn’t recognize it but it was a peaceful refrain. That peace Zeeb seemed to carry with him like a second skin. Nate envied it.

No, that wasn’t right. He ached for it.

The lake was calling, and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the quiet, the heat, or maybe the simple fact he was tired of staying in his own skin as if it was a trap.

Swim .

He turned the word over in his mind. That’s stupid. Reckless. Dangerous.

But God, it sounded like freedom.

“You okay?” Zeeb called out from behind him.

Nate didn’t turn his head but stared out at the still water. “I think I’m gonna swim. After all, you brought towels. Might as well use them.” The impulse tugged at him.

It wasn’t like him. He didn’t do things on impulse. He didn’t take risks. He didn’t let himself be seen.

And especially not by someone like Zeeb.

But the thought had wormed its way in now, and it stayed. The idea of diving into something cold and pure and real. A moment of reckless clarity.

A baptism, almost.

Zeeb cackled. “It’ll be cold as hell.”

“Good. I need it.”

His heart pounding, Nate removed his boots, then his shirt. He hesitated at his jeans, his thumb hooked at the button, then shoved them to his ankles.

That left his boxers.

He glanced sideways. Zeeb wasn’t watching, packing away the remains of their lunch.

Giving me space again. Yeah, that was Zeeb.

Nate swallowed and dropped his boxers. The breeze kissed every exposed inch of him. He was aware of the way the light touched his skin, how the air brushed over it.

Something else reacted to the air, and he was glad Zeeb wasn’t looking.

He walked to the edge quickly before he could think too hard. Before he could change his mind.

Nate’s skin tingled. He could feel his old patterns rising, clawing at him.

Don’t draw attention.

Don’t be weird.

Don’t be seen.

His decision of the previous night pushed against it. He was tired of the shame, the fear. Tired of letting old ghosts keep him small.

Don’t stop now. You’ve gotten this far.

The water was sharp, slicing up his calves, his thighs. He sucked in a breath and dove in clean, letting the cold wrap around him like a fist.

It was shocking. Icy. Perfect.

He surfaced with a gasp. “Holy shit,” he called toward the shore. “You didn’t say it was this cold.”

Zeeb’s laugh rolled out of him, deep and real. “I told ya.” He stood on the shore, his gaze focused on Nate.

Awareness flickered through him like a live wire, and he stood waist-deep in the water, not ashamed of his body, no longer afraid to be seen. Zeeb averted his gaze quickly when their eyes met, and Nate caught the slight flush on his cheeks. That told him more than any words would have.

Another impulse seized him, and he went with it.

“Come on then,” Nate shouted, the water up to his waist. “You did bring two towels, remember?” He grinned. “You scared?”

Zeeb raised an eyebrow. “You trying to goad me, kid?”

“I’m trying to make it fair. I can’t be the only idiot freezing my ass off.”

Zeeb said nothing for a moment, then shrugged. “Fair’s fair, I guess. And it ain’t like I haven’t done it before, right?” He kicked off his boots, then peeled off his flannel and undershirt. He wasn’t rushed about it, just matter-of-fact, like it was no big deal.

As if stripping off thirty feet from a younger, very naked man was normal trail etiquette.

He shares a bunkhouse with how many other guys? And guests? Of course it’s no big deal.

But when Zeeb’s jeans came off and he stepped down into the lake, something in Nate’s stomach twisted.

Zeeb hissed as the cold hit him. “Christ on a cracker.”

“Told you.”

He waded in up to his waist, braced for a second, then dunked under. He came up sputtering, slicking his hair back with both hands. “Thank God there’s no one around to take pictures.” He glanced down. “I reckon my dick just shrunk to the size of a peanut.”

Nate couldn’t help it. He laughed, the sound loud and boyish.

Zeeb gave him a glare that didn’t last long. “You think that’s funny?”

“A little.”

Zeeb lunged at him in a splash and Nate yelped, flailing away.

They were kids for a while, both of them splashing, wrestling against the current, trying to dunk each other like brothers in a backyard pool.

For ten minutes, Nate forgot everything: the weight in his chest, the voices in his head, the memories that clung to him, curled around him, cutting into his flesh…

Here, in the middle of nowhere, he was nothing but a body in water, playing for the first time in years.

At some point they both stopped, breathless and smiling, floating next to each other in the deep. Nate turned his face to the sky, panting, his chest heaving.

“That was… actually fun,” he confessed.

“Imagine that.”

Nate could hear the amusement in Zeeb’s voice. He turned his head in Zeeb’s direction, and their gazes met.

Nate shivered.

Something shifted.

No laughter this time, no teasing, only a quiet that drew them together in a different way. Nate became hyper-aware of his body: how the water clung to it, how close Zeeb was. The space between them seemed to contract and stretch at the same time.

Zeeb looked away first, brushing water from his beard. “We should probably get out before we both freeze.”

“Yeah,” Nate said softly.

He didn’t move. Neither did Zeeb.

They lingered in the water, shoulder to shoulder, their legs brushing once under the surface, maybe accidentally.

Maybe not.

Nate shivered once more, but not from the cold water surrounding him, supporting him.

It was his awareness of Zeeb, a feeling something had passed between them.

Something new.

Something huge.

When they finally waded out, neither spoke much. Zeeb flung him a towel, and Nate dried himself off. They dressed in silence, Nate avoiding Zeeb’s gaze.

The air between them had changed. It seemed to hum with a life of its own.

Nate sat down to pull on his boots, and Zeeb handed him his shirt. Their fingers touched for a second, sending a tingle through Nate.

“Thanks.”

Zeeb smiled. “Any time.” He watched as Nate laced up his boots. “That was brave.”

Nate said nothing.

“You always that brave?”

He looked up. “No.”

“’Cause from where I was standing, it felt like a big deal.”

Nate swallowed. “That’s because it was.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Nate’s mouth. “Yeah, I noticed you noticing.”

Zeeb chuckled, low and warm. “Sorry. Tried not to stare.”

“You didn’t try that hard.”

They both laughed then, and something inside Nate loosened, just a bit.

The silence after wasn’t awkward. It was… tentative. New. It was a simple exchange of words, but Nate was aware of what lay beneath it, entwined around it, the impossible tug of safety and danger, of what was and what might be.

Whatever came next, he knew one thing: the lake had stripped something away. Not clothes. Not fear. Something older, deeper.

Something worth stepping into the cold for.