Page 33 of Revival

“Yeah,” I mumble around the rim. The coffee is exactly how I like it. Black and so hot it’s on the verge of scalding.

“You don’t have to sleep outside. I know I wasn’t exactly accommodating with you yesterday, but I’m okay with you being here.”

“It was probably the most enjoyable sleep I’ve had in a while,” I lie.

Sleeping outdoors wasn’t the issue.

No, sleeping anywhere near Cortney is the issue.

“I won’t put up a fight, but I can be an adult and share the bed. It is a king.”

“I’m fine out here.”

She shuffles closer. “You can’t be comfortable out here. These loungers are hardly padded.”

“I’m used to roughing it.” I tip back my cup again, chasing the words with a long drink.

“Seriously, Spence. I don’t even snore anymore. I got my deviated septum fixed when I was twenty.”

I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. “That’s good to hear. Why are you up so early this morning?” I execute a swift subject change. There was exactly one time in our lives that we spent the entire night together, and her cute little snore has been ingrained in that memory since then.

“We’re going zip-lining.”

My mouth opens and closes. “Excuse me?”

Cortney hits me with a devastating smile. “It’s a couples excursion.”

“That’s today?”

“Yep.”

“When do we leave?”

She peeks at her phone. “In about twenty minutes.”

Without a word, I toss back the rest of my coffee and rise from the lounger. My back aches in places I didn’t even know could hurt, and I’m pretty sure I limp on my way back into the room.

Fuck, I’m getting old. I’m surprised nothing pops or cracks.

“Spencer? Are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay. I slept like shit, and I hate heights. But there’s not a damn chance in hell I’m sending her off alone.

Until this week is over, I’m going to spend every second soaking up Cortney that I can.

“Give me five, and I’ll be ready to go.”

* * *

The hotel provideda direct shuttle from the resort to the zip line company. We traveled with three other couples for the half-day excursion. With my white long-sleeved shirt and the black neck gaiter covering my scars, I look like I’m headed for a ski trip or a bank robbery rather than a day soaring over the jungle.

The stares of the other passengers are heavy. I’m sure they wonder why the fuck I’m wearing all of this. Minding one’s business is a universal flaw, and I’m bound to be stared at, whether I’m in Minnesota, on a plane, or Timbuktu.

“I’m so excited!” Cortney claps as we disembark. “Aren’t you excited?”

My gaze travels the height of the platforms strung with cables in the distance.

“Thrilled.”

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