Page 23 of Camping with the Boss

“I’m…I’m dying.” I try to jerk out of his hands. He doesn’t get it. “But I need to save River.” And then he’s lifting me, cradling me against his chest. And we’re outside again.

He puts me down and cups my face so I can’t look away. His eyes are worried. About River?

The silence clues me in. No screaming. No horsing around. No roar of a boat engine. No frantic splashing. My heart…is fine. “You’re safe, Canyon. I’ve got you.”

I blink and try to wipe the tears from my eyes, but he’s still cradling my face. “I’m sorry. That—oh God.” All those people saw me break down. My face heats, and my eyes prickle with embarrassment.

“You’re okay.”

Oh no. “Let go, Wade. Please, I’m fine.”

“I want to be sure?—”

He doesn’t get it. “I need—I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh.” He jumps back, and I turn to the nearest bush while willing myself not to throw up. I swallow the bile, and my stomach settles a little. “Water?”

He turns me so my back is to him and tugs on the ropes of my bag. Right. The water bottle. I forgot all about it. He turns me again to face him and hands me the bottle. I’m not as embarrassed as I should be. Too exhausted. I take a gulp of water and then try to take another when Wade grabs the bottle.

“Take it slow.”

I nod and take another sip. Slower this time. When I can speak without throwing up, I thank him again.

“It’s okay. You’re fine.”

I nod, but I can’t stop the stupid tears. Part of it is reliving those awful memories. The other part is pure embarrassment. I sniff. “How am I going to face them?”

He tips my chin up. “I can say it’ll be fine, but you won’t believe me. Let’s just worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, you can stay in my cabin. Okay?”

“I can’t do that. That’s your space.”

“You’re forgetting something, Canyon.” The look in his eyes tells me he’s not taking no for an answer. “I’m the bosshole in charge.”

Chapter Six

Wade

Monday, June 9th, 8:00 p.m.

Canyon and I slowly make the trek back across the lake. Several times, I have to resist the urge to pick him up and carry him. That would freak him out more. His face is pale, and if I thought he looked frail before, it’s nothing compared to this. If he gets worse, I’m calling 9-1-1.

The arguing registers before I open the door, and I’m not making that mistake again. What is up with everyone tonight? I squeeze Canyon’s shoulder. “Give me a minute, okay?”

His eyes widen, and he grabs my hand. “Don’t leave.”

Fuck. “Okay.” I clear my throat and say in a louder voice, “We’re coming in.” The arguing stops. Opening the door, I pull Canyon in with me. Jared and Ander are still glaring at each other. But I don’t have time to figure any of that out. Canyon is my main concern.

Jared catches sight of him and rushes over, all traces of anger gone from his face. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” he whispers, breaking my heart.

“It’s not stupid.” I turn to Jared. “He’s overwhelmed. It’s been a long day.”

Ander slips by Jared to stand beside Canyon. I want to pull him safely away from my brother. But Ander ignores my warning look. “Panic attack, right?” Ander asks, and Canyon nods. “I’ve had a few of those. Not life-threatening but scary as hell.” He says this part to me. Can he tell I was this close to calling 9-1-1? Probably. My brother knows me better than most.

“It was—” Canyon covers his face. I clench my hands to keep from reaching for him. Have I ever felt his protective of anyone? The answer is standing next to him. Canyon smiles at Ander. The red color in his cheeks that had faded a bit now flares again. “It was a panic attack. But I think I should mention,” he says, eyes darting to me as he swallows, “I have a heart condition.”

“What?” My voice is louder than I want. Canyon flinches and Ander glares at me. I try to bring it down a level or two, but I’m so fucking pissed. “You didn’t mention that.”

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