the MRE and a fork in hand, he moved on to the sleeping bag next to her. Warmth radiated off of him as she plunged the fork into the bag. Bits of chicken, rice, and pineapple clung to the utensil as she shoved it into her mouth. “Mmm, gourmet.”
He laughed. “I thought so.”
She chewed, swallowed, hardly tasting any of it. “What time is it?”
“Nine.” He leaned back on his hands. “I hope you don’t mind me sneaking in here. I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” Well, her ankle looked like a blimp on steroids, but she’d taken as much medicine as the medics thought advisable, so she could hardly feel it. “What’s going on with the race? I heard you and Angela talking outside my tent earlier but couldn’t make out all the details.”
“Weather delay. They aren’t sure if we’ll be able to start right away in the morning.” He frowned. “Actually, they aren’t sure we’ll be starting at all.”
Eva set the empty MRE pouch aside. “What? Why?”
He explained about the possible flood conditions and the alternate plan. “I don’t think they’ll know anything until the morning, so it’s best if we get all rested up as if we’re going.” Marc glanced at her, wariness in his eyes. “But . . .”
“But what?”
“Part of me wonders if this is a blessing in disguise. You’re pretty hurt, Eva, and I don’t want to see you any worse off.”
“I want to finish.”
Marc sat upright again. “But earlier you said—”
“I know, but that was more about not wanting Angela to feel like I held her back. Now we’re so close to the end.” She reached for his hand, squeezed. “I got this.”
He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing her palm lightly. “I know you do.” Even in the low light, his eyes seemed to trace the contours of her face. He reached up and did the same with his fingers. “But I can’t help but worry.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I know I don’t have to. It’s my privilege to.”
She was struck with the realization that it was more than concern radiating in his eyes. “You take very good care of me.”
He sighed. In the distance, above the din of the rain, rose the gentle call of an owl. “I don’t think I ever told you this, but Brent . . . he asked me one time . . .” His voice cracked with emotion, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “He told me that if anything ever happened to him, I was the one he wanted watching out for you.”
“Ah, so I was an obligation then?” She teased, not sure how to process that piece of information.
Marc pinned her with a look that was anything but teasing. “You have never been an obligation to me a day in your life, Eva Jamison. But . . .” His fingertips still lingered on her cheeks as he searched her eyes for something. Some sort of permission. “I just . . . I hope Brent would bless this. I think he would. Still, I sometimes feel like the worst friend in the world. He asked me to watch out for you, and I ended up falling in love with you instead.”
In love . . . All breath fled her lungs.
How was it possible to feel both heartache and joy in the same moment? To comprehend that without Brent, she and Marc wouldn’t even know each other? That without his death, this love never would have existed?
Did she love Marc too?
Why bother asking? She knew with every fiber of her being that she did.
Eva placed her hand on Marc’s chest, felt his heart beating as rapidly as her own. Her lips longed to profess the words back to him, but she couldn’t. Not yet. What held her back?
All she knew was she did feel it, despite her fears, and she wanted to show him, even if she didn’t have the strength to tell him yet. Eva fisted his jacket in her hand and pulled him closer, meeting his surprised lips with her own. It took a moment, but he kissed her back, and soon he’d wrapped his arms around her waist. She looped her arms around his shoulders, intensifying the kiss.
His lips slowly moved to her earlobe, and a heady feeling buzzed inside her. It felt both new and familiar, and she longed for a deeper connection.
“I love you, too, Brent.”
The words split the air, dousing the flame of passion between them as Marc jerked