Page 33 of Obscurity (Pros and Cons Mysteries #5)

O live unzipped the tent and looked out at the blurry, rain-drenched darkness on the other side.

It was a soggy mess out there.

Some people had left their tents and were now dancing in the rain.

She spotted some flashlights and, from their position, assumed it was probably security keeping an eye on things.

“The free alcohol.” Jason peeked out behind her. “Some people are probably passed out cold and don’t realize they’re sleeping in puddles. Others are getting soaked as they dance.”

“I just hope no one does anything stupid.”

“We need to find somewhere dry.” Jason shouldered their soggy gear. “And higher up.”

They stepped into the rain, carrying their backpacks, and the drops pelted them. Then they began to pick their way through the muddy campsite, past tents sagging under the weight of collected rainwater and others that had clearly taken on significant flooding. Most remained ominously quiet.

“There.” Olive pointed toward the old church. “It’s on higher ground. I wonder if we can get inside.”

They headed that way. Jason tried the door, and it was unlocked.

Jason tested the floorboards before motioning for her to come inside.

As Olive and Jason stepped through the warped wooden doors, escaping the driving rain, they were immediately hit by the musty smell of rotting wood mixed with something sharper—the metallic tang of rusted metal and the sour odor of standing water that had pooled and stagnated in hidden corners.

Their flashlight beams revealed a space that had once been sacred but now felt haunted by neglect.

The wooden pews sat in crooked rows, some collapsed entirely, their boards warped and split from years of moisture and temperature fluctuations.

Hymnals lay scattered across the floor, their pages swollen and illegible, creating a carpet of molding paper that released the sweet, cloying smell of decomposition with each step.

The altar area was partially collapsed, the wooden platform tilted at a dangerous angle where the floor joists beneath had rotted through.

Behind it, stained glass windows that had once depicted biblical scenes were now broken puzzles, with colored glass fragments scattered across the floor like discarded jewels.

Despite the decay, the space offered shelter from the storm raging outside, and they gratefully moved deeper into the ruins to escape the wind and rain that had been soaking them to the bone.

At once, memories from nearly a decade ago hit her.

Memories of her father’s brief stint as a pastor at a small community church in Indiana. It was the place her family had moved after leaving Texas . . . and Jason.

She’d never quite understood why, after all the scams her father had pulled, he’d then decided to go into ministry. He’d never shown any interest in church before. She found the whole thing suspicious.

But she’d been coached by her parents on how to act like a good Christian girl. Every time the church doors had opened, she and her sisters had been there.

Though Olive had been apprehensive at first, she’d come to appreciate the people there and the community.

However, it was while her father served at that church in Indiana that her entire family had been murdered.

Nausea began to roil inside her at the memories.

“This could be worse,” Jason murmured, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Could it?” Olive frowned as she heard something scampering in the distance. A rat?

Jason pulled out some blankets from his pack—blankets that had somehow stayed dry. “At least we won’t freeze.”

“At least,” she murmured.

But this was the first time she’d set foot in church since her family’s murders . . . and she might not survive the ghosts coming back into the light.

Jason spread one blanket over the floor and held onto the other. They’d briefly considered settling on a pew, but the seats were narrow and hard—not very comfortable.

As they sat side by side on the narrow space, both still damp from their rescue efforts, Olive realized they were going to have to share body heat whether they wanted to or not.

“Come here.” Jason lifted the edge of his blanket as he spread it out. “You’re shivering.”

She was, though she wasn’t sure if it was from cold or nerves. But the invitation was practical, necessary even.

She scooted closer until they were sitting pressed together, the shared blanket wrapped around both of them. Thankfully, their clothes had remained fairly dry, protected by the sleeping bags covering them.

The warmth was immediate and comforting. Jason’s solid presence beside her, the familiar scent of his skin, the way he automatically adjusted his position to make her more comfortable—it all felt so natural, so right, that for a moment she almost forgot why she’d been keeping her distance.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” She leaned into his warmth, letting herself relax for the first time all day. “Thank you. For the blankets, for moving us, for . . . everything.”

“We’re partners,” Jason said. “We take care of each other.”

But the way he said it, the gentleness in his voice, suggested something deeper than professional courtesy. Her heart pounded harder.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the storm outside. It was almost 4 a.m. They wouldn’t be getting much sleep—morning would be here before they knew it.

It had been a long, long night.

“Just think,” Olive started. “Brad and all his friends are warm and dry and probably drinking champagne while we’re huddled in an abandoned building like refugees.”

“If I had to guess, the party is probably still going strong over there.”

“While his paying customers sleep in flooded tents.” The injustice of it made her angry all over again.

“Do you remember,” Jason’s voice dropped to an intimate level, “that time we got caught in the rain at the football game?”

Olive smiled despite everything. “It was homecoming. The game was so intense that I sat through the entire fourth quarter in a downpour. But I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You were the star quarterback who won the game and took the school to the state championship that year.”

“I still remember you were wearing that blue sweater that you said was your lucky football game outfit.”

“Which was completely ruined by the end of the night.” She laughed softly. “I was so mad at myself for not bringing an umbrella.”

“I did give you my letterman jacket even though you were already soaked through.”

“Yes, and I appreciated that. But I felt so bad for you. You were soaked to the bone.”

“Hey, I was trying to be chivalrous. And I was on an adrenaline high after winning the game.”

The memory was sweet and painful at the same time.

They’d been so young then, so sure that what they had would last forever. So naive about how easily love could be destroyed by circumstances beyond their control.

“We were different people then.” Olive’s voice came out scratchy with emotion.

“Were we?” Jason’s voice was thoughtful. “Sometimes I think we’re exactly the same. Just . . . carrying more scars.”

She turned to look at him. His face was serious, open in a way that made her heart ache with possibility and fear.

Sitting here with him, warm and safe despite their circumstances, sharing memories and gentle touches, felt like setting herself up for heartache all over again. She was falling back into the same patterns, the same feelings, the same dangerous hope that maybe this time would be different.

But maybe, just maybe, that was a risk worth taking.

Somewhere in these mountains, Chloe Kingston was still missing, Olive reminded herself. She still depended on them to find the truth.

But for now, in this small bubble of warmth and memory, Olive let herself remember what it felt like to be loved by Jason Stewart. Even if it was only for one more night.