Page 1 of Keep You Safe
Chapter One
Adler
Late August
“I’m hot.”I sat on the back deck with Maverick, one of my best friends, sipping iced coffee and marveling at August in Southwestern Colorado. The earth itself seemed to heat up, a dry desert warmth that found us mid-morning, before the sun even reached its peak.
“Yeah, you are.” Maverick laughed knowingly. “And you enjoy hearing it.”
Was I that predictable? I twisted my mouth, not sure I liked how widely known my love of praise and attention was. I was over thirty, well into my aging twink phase, and undoubtedly needed to get beyond my youthful neediness.
“I meant temperature-wise. I’m broiling.” I tried not to sound as testy as I felt. Maverick had had a heck of a week and didn’t need my one-third life crisis. “You didn’t warn me it would be hotter than LA.”
“Sorry. You want to come with Hannah and me to the hospital?” Maverick offered. His sister had been in a recent car accident, upending much of the plans for my visit, which wassecondary to Maverick’s stack of new worries. “The hospital has more powerful A/C than the ranch house.”
“Nah. You need the time with Faith.” I’d been with Maverick at the hospital the night of his sister’s accident, but to be honest, hospitals quietly made my hands sweat and my stomach wobble.
“I feel like I’m being a terrible host.”
“You’re being an amazing brother and uncle.” My boredom didn’t need to be his problem. Maverick understandably needed to focus on family. “That’s more important. I can amuse myself for a few hours.”
That was a bit of a white lie. I had precious few solitary hobbies. As a born extrovert, this week on Maverick’s ranch, away from my LA social life, had tested my capacity for alone time. Not that it was a bad thing. My social circle shrank considerably after I got sober, and learning how to be comfortable alone was undoubtedly something my therapist would applaud.
“You could always swim,” Maverick suggested idly.
“Swim? There’s a pool?” I gazed at the surrounding ranch—a collection of barns and outbuildings with a large horse facility up on a small hill and pastures and crop land beyond that. I hadn’t found a pool during my explorations.
“No, better. There’s a large pond north of the pastures.” Maverick gestured expansively. “Spring fed. Cold, clear water. Colt and I swam there all the time in high school. Bit of a hike, but I can draw you a map.”
“Absolutely. Getting out and stretching my legs sounds perfect.” Another white lie. I was easing my body back to a place of health and stamina after years of hard living, but the need to accommodate Maverick was greater than any trepidation over a solo hike.
“It’s more than a leg stretch.” Maverick fetched a pad of paper from the kitchen and brought it back out to the small tablewe were sitting at. He started drawing a rough map of the ranch. “You could grab a dirt bike from the machine shed if you know how to ride.”
I did not. Growing up on the Jersey Shore had not offered many opportunities for outdoor skills like dirt biking and hiking, but my innate need to please won out again.
“I’m happy hiking. Swimming sounds like a great reward for some exercise.”
Shortly after we finished our coffee, Maverick left me with the map. On his way to his car, with his niece Hannah trailing behind him, he reminded me to bring plenty of water and to watch out for rattlesnakes and wildlife, which hardly made me eager to hike. Accordingly, I took my sweet time finding and filling some reusable water bottles and assembling a few snacks. The hall closet yielded a small dusty backpack to hold my supplies and a canvas sun hat to shield my Irish complexion from the sun. I threw some sunscreen in the bag, and running out of reasons to stall, I grabbed Maverick’s map and headed for the hills.
The first part of the walk was hardly wilderness as I passed the barns, waving to some ranch hands working with the cattle and horses. The ranch had both seasonal summer and permanent hands, but neither group seemed particularly eager to make friends despite my efforts to greet them over the past week.
Foreman Foxy was nowhere to be seen, which was a darn shame. Maverick’s foreman was technically named Grayson and was the hottest thing over forty I’d seen in years. Short hair shot through with silver, tats, a perpetually stern expression, and an easy cowboy confidence that made him seem like something straight out of a Hollywood western. Naturally, I’d tried being friendly to him as well, but he was even less inclined to small talk than his ranch hands.
I trudged up the dirt road that wound past the fenced-in pastures. I’d learned earlier in the week that neither horses nor cows were fond of petting. The baby cows in particular looked all adorable and cuddly, but the one I’d managed to get a hand on through the fence had also been a biter, with an overbearing mama cow nearby.
The dirt road narrowed the farther north I ventured, eventually becoming less road and more trail.
“Maverick, you weren’t kidding about a hike,” I muttered as the sun beat down on me. According to my phone’s fitness app, I was only about a mile in, but the dry, dusty heat and climb made the journey seem that much longer. I even had to scramble over large rocks at several points, leaving my hands and jeans streaked with reddish dirt. “Are we there yet?”
There was no one to hear my complaint, but right as I was about to give up, the trail curved, and I discovered a perfectly lovely pond. I had to navigate a short descent down to the pond, which was rimmed by more of the giant golden reddish rocks, along with a grove of scrubby trees and plants. A large evergreen tree provided a little shade for me to have my snack and change?—
“Oh, Adler, you idiot!” I slapped my head. I’d packed water, snacks, and sunscreen, but no swim trunks. No way was I turning around and trudging back to the ranch house, not when the pond was right here, water beckoning like a perfect piece of greenish-blue glass. While I ate my snack, I debated the merits of skinny dipping. No one was around to see, not even the cows. At least I’d packed sunscreen, which I applied liberally after stripping off my jeans and shirt. I left my clothes in a heap on top of the pricey hiking boots I’d bought before leaving LA.
Resolved to enjoy my naked swim, I waded into the water and promptly yelped at the cold. Good thing no one was around to see me hop from foot to foot, trying to get used to the cold.Certain parts of my anatomy beat a hasty retreat from the chilly water. I was used to perfectly regulated hotel and apartment complex pools, not this slice of nature with bracing water, rocks, and squishy dirt underfoot.
God, please don’t let the snakes Maverick mentioned be the kind that live in or near water.
However, gradually, I got used to the water enough to walk toward the deeper center of the pond. My feet weren’t sure what to make of the rocky bottom, but my muscle memory for what to do in water was strong. I’d grown up wading and swimming in the ocean during the summers in New Jersey, and one of the few things my parents had done right was swimming lessons for all of us. Feeling bolder, I swam around, finding the edges of the deeper parts of the pond before settling into a nice float in the center, eyes closed, body at perfect relaxation, whirring brain finally as quiet as the surrounding trees.
