Page 6 of Just a Plot Twist (Tate Brothers #7)

Benson

Colorado sunrises, huh?

Wow.

I have to bring Dax and Indie up here. They cannot go through their childhood without breathing in this view and the cool, clean mountain air.

I turn back to the trail. Is Claire enjoying this as much as I am?

But she’s not there. And then, an agonized groan.

She sits crossed legged in the dirt, her light brown ponytail askew.

“Did you fall?” I say, stepping away from the view to return to her.

She gives up an embarrassed half laugh. “No. I wanted to do some yoga right here. Don’t mind me.” She rolls her eyes, her cheeks reddening. She rubs her ankle, pointing and flexing her foot.

“You did fall. And you hurt yourself. ”

She sours. “Ladies and gentlemen, his powers of deduction are astounding!”

Ladies and gentlemen…?

Okay, that was a little rude.

I sigh and offer my hand. “Can I help you up?”

The family of four has caught up to us. With apologetic looks, they step out of the clearing and go single file to get around us.

“You guys good?” The father asks.

“She fell,” I say, right as she says, “We’re totally fine!”

She grasps my hands and I ease her up to a stand. As she puts weight on her foot, she winces and takes in a sharp breath.

After some hesitation, and after Claire shoos him with her hands and the fakest-of-fake bright smiles, the guy proceeds up the path with his family.

More people approach us to get through, so she hobbles over to the clearing, still clinging to my hand.

“Did you roll your ankle?” I ask, careful to keep my voice down. Her cheeks are smudged with pink.

She nods, wriggles free, and stands on one foot as she screws the lid off her water bottle. She takes a long drink and then sighs, rubbing the back of her hand across her upper lip, causing dirt to mustache across her face.

“I’m sorry that happened,” I say. I search the view as I try to formulate a plan. We’ve been hiking almost an hour. What does one do in a situation like this?

She sets her water bottle on the ground and leans against a tree. “Me, too. My first hike of the season! I’m blaming Inez for this. ”

“Who’s Inez?” I curb my smile. I don’t mean to smile at her misfortune, but the dirt across her upper lip reminds me of my kids when they play outside.

“The city manager and my boss. The one who was supposed to be here.” She presses her lips tightly together. “Not to hike with me, but for the project. And I’m not actually blaming her. I’m just…frustrated.” She shakes her head and sighs, rubbing her temple.

Another group of people attempt to pass us. We’re just ahead of the natural clearing, so they clog the narrow trail so much that I have to tug her closer, wrapping my arm around her midback. She smells like a vanilla-scented candle.

“If I had an arm around you, could you walk back down? We can go slowly.”

“No.” Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. “I mean, I’m okay.” She meets my gaze, her chin up. “You go on ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.” She gestures to the trail and then leans past me, so that her shoulder drops against the skinny trunk of a pine.

“I’m not going to just leave you here.”

She hops again on one foot so she can maneuver her back against the tree. “And I’m not going to stand in your way of reaching the top. How disappointing is that to get so close but not quite there?” She frowns, her streak of a mustache turning down. “Nuh uh. I won’t be the cause of that.”

“Well, it’s disappointing for you to not be able to get to the top, too.”

“Oh, I’m making it to the top.” Her green eyes blaze. “Do not worry about me. I need to rest another minute or two and then I’ll go up.”

“You can’t even put weight on it,” I counter .

Her gaze hardens. “Well, not quite yet. But you go on ahead.” She eases onto a fallen log and rotates her foot again, her face pale.

“I don’t think you’re okay.”

“Look, I appreciate the help and concern. But you did not come on this hike to help a stranger after a very minor stumble. So go.” She levels me with a stare. “Please.”

I hesitate, unease filtering through my chest. “I don’t want to leave you like this.”

She winces again as she points and flexes her foot.

“Since I’m an IT nerd…” I smile at this. “I don’t know much about injuries, but maybe you shouldn’t try to walk this out. You need to elevate and stabilize to keep the swelling down.”

Her lips form a thin line, and her gaze goes to the ground. “I don’t mean to be…short with you, but I want you to reach the top.”

She meets my gaze, and her bright, clear green eyes are striking against her porcelain skin and light brown hair. She has similar features to Oliver’s wife, Sophie. I can tell they’re sisters, but she’s also very much her own woman.

“This is embarrassing, okay?” she continues. “I’d appreciate you letting me have a small shred of dignity here by letting me do this on my own.”

I hold up my hands. “Suit yourself.” I try to smile, but it’s difficult. This woman’s stubbornness is…

The look she gives me, one of relief that I’m leaving, makes up my mind for me, so I sling my little bag over one shoulder and take a step to leave. “I’ll, a…see you soon. At the top.”

I can’t force her to accept my help, although I have a feeling she will eventually have to .

I don’t believe that she can make it in the state she’s in. My dad—my adoptive dad, Joe—was a champion for and helper of women. Even for all his kindness to my mom, for all his fussing over her, he knew when to back off, to listen to her needs, and support what she thought was best.

So, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to let Ms. Claire Lawson be independent. She wants to be left alone, so I’ll leave her alone.

I continue hiking up the trail, getting glimpses of the sunrise through the trees.

My parents were in their late thirties when they adopted me from my biological mother, Ellen Rantz, who was a teen when I was born.

My divorce was final almost thirteen months ago.

At that point, at the lowest moment of my life thus far, my dad had already been gone—cardiac arrest—for two years.

Mom lasted another nine months without him before she had a stroke and passed away.

And then, Ellen died shortly after my mom.

Three deaths in two years. And then a divorce.

My brain freezes up and my throat starts to close. I can’t take a deep enough breath. It’s maddening. Impossible.

My parents, Leila and Joe, were aunt and uncle to Ellen, and it was an open adoption, rare for those days. She was involved in my life as much as she could be.

But they’re gone now.

So much loss, and then my wife leaving me and splitting custody of Dax and Indie a year ago.

It takes its toll.

Loss is common. We all lose people we love, but my sense of loneliness has been acute, despite connecting with the Tate family .

I haven’t fully belonged to anything or anyone in a long time. Dax and Indie love me, I love them, and we get along great, but they have a stepdad. They like him, and he treats them well. They have a core family they belong to now.

I…don’t.

As I make my way up the trail alone, I’m in my head about it, remembering something Danica used to say during the divorce. He never fought for me.

My throat clogs at that memory. I feel like I fought for her the entire time we were married, up until she left. But maybe I didn’t do enough.

Danica was restless. She said herself she got married too quickly—we were too young. She’d been telling me for years she made a mistake when she married me.

Should I have fought harder for us to make it work? Could I have fought harder?

I don’t miss Danica like I used to. I’m not tormented with all the “could have beens” like I was. Danica sometimes comments on how we’re better people now that we’re divorced. Still, the divorce might always haunt me in some way or another.

Did I give up on Claire just now? Stubborn Claire who pushed me away and made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me, like Danica did when she filed for divorce?

Am I missing something? Was I back then?

I doubt I’ll ever know.

I reach the top in minutes. With how steep it gets at the end, it would have been impossible for Claire to make it up here with an injured ankle. The woman’s delusional if she thinks she can .

Al, the trail guide, in his wide brimmed hat, smiles when I reach the crowd of people at the top. He consults his clipboard before speaking up. “So you’re Benson, right? Is there a woman named Claire back there? She’s the only person I haven’t seen up here yet.”

“She hurt her ankle. She’s resting about ten minutes down right now.”

“You left her?” The guide’s shaggy, white eyebrows rise in the air.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to, but she insisted. She didn’t want me waiting around.”

“Still, it probably wasn’t good to leave her. You had to have known we’d all be heading down in a few minutes anyway.”

I want to say to him, Have you ever interacted with someone who doesn’t want your help or advice? Who doesn’t want you near them?

It bothers me that Al assumes I’m the kind of guy who leaves injured women on the trail without a second thought. That’s not what happened. “I don’t know her,” I explain. “She expressly asked me to leave.”

My dad probably wouldn’t have left her.

“How serious is her injury?” Al asks.

I remember the pain flashing in her eyes. “It’s probably worse than she thinks it is.”

A quizzical look crosses his face. “I better head down to check on her. If we need to contact the EMTs, we’d better do that as soon as we get into cell range.”

EMTs? Despite myself, I smile. Claire is not going to react well to that. She would probably rather die than be beholden to some emergency personnel.

Why does it give me the slightest zing of satisfaction knowing she’s going to hate it ?

“I’ll come with you,” I tell him.

The guide announces he has to go check on a hiker and that those who want to stay longer, can. He’s a quieter sort of guy, yet leadership comes naturally to him as the president of the hiking club.

I follow him down, my foot strikes lighter and bouncier as we tramp down the mountain. It’s a nice change from having to trudge up.

She’s near the clearing and has her legging pulled up. I’m surprised at the jolt of desire within me as I take in her leg. I already noted before that the rest of her is nice as well.

I sigh audibly. I can’t think like that. She’s Sophie’s sister, first of all. And she clearly isn’t interested in me.

“Hello, little lady,” the guide says jovially.

I whistle under my breath. She is not going to like being called “little lady.”

“Can I take a look at that rolled ankle?”

Claire gives me a look like You got him involved? But she doesn’t protest as she lifts her foot in the air and yanks up her pant leg a little more. Her ankle is swollen and red.

“Wow, yeah,” Al says. “That’s a pretty good roll you’ve got there.” He gives both of us a thoughtful look. “I’ll go further down until I get into cell range and then call an ambulance. They’ll send a couple of guys up who can get you down the mountain.”

“Uh, no!” Panic crosses over Claire’s face. “That’s not necessary. I—” She looks miserably torn. “I can call my brother-in-law to help me.” She sighs, and her eyes fill with tears, but she dashes them away with her hand, further smearing her face with mud .

I step to her, lift the hem of my Dri-FIT shirt, and wipe the mud from above her lip. Her gaze skitters to my bare abdomen before meeting mine. She flinches away. “Hold still, Claire. You look like you wrestled with a puddle.”

An embarrassed, very quiet, “Oh” escapes her lips and she stays dutifully still while I wipe her face.

I make up my mind.

Because right now, I’m gonna get a do-over and help this woman out.

I tear my eyes from her gaze to look over at the guide.

“You don’t need to call emergency services,” I say. “I’ll carry her down.”