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“Where can we go?” she whispered.

But just as his lips opened to reply Erica's voice came drifting up the path, and it was almost as though she was on top of them. Bryce slid instantly to the ground, her hands fluttering nervously to straighten her shirt, her hair; Matthew had the wits to disappear, which he did into the woods, moving so swiftly and silently that Bryce felt for a moment that he had simply dematerialized into the night air.

Erica appeared scant seconds later, and Bryce had the presence of mind to stroll back down the path and toward the activity. Erica was walking her cousin Lee to her car, and the two women paused in their conversation to smile at Bryce, Erica mouthing the words
Hi, honey
. They were past her in the next second and she stopped and looked wildly around for Matthew, but realized with a small ripping in her heart that he had truly disappeared; they would have to wait until later.

No, Bryce
, she thought, her feet momentarily frozen as her mind strained frantically away from the sudden onslaught of pain.
Don't think about how this is how it will always have to be.
Secret meetings, never being able to acknowledge their feelings to their family and friends, never being able to touch before the eyes of others. Deeper than that, far more cutting, far more internal-damage-causing, was the fact that they could never be married, could never have children. And eventually they would have to move on from each other, because there was no other choice.

For a moment she bent double from the ache, hands on her knees, overwhelmed by the nausea of that knowledge. Bile rose along that back of her throat, cut off her breath as the world slipped sluggishly out of focus. She thought for a moment that she might faint, but the kids were coming her way now, chattering and laughing, and she forced into her limbs every last ounce of strength and stood up, plastered a smile on her face.

Not 10 yards away, on the trail behind the main lodge, Rae Taylor stood silently with both hands pressed to her lips, not sure how to react to what she had just witnessed. Michelle's daughter and Matthew Sternhagen; so much for laughing at her own imagination just moments ago. Rae bit her bottom lip, her thoughts churning. A moment later she resumed her walk to her car, slower now, but more resolved than ever. Like it or not, it was time to find Michelle.

***

“But what
about snakes?” Bryce asked uncertainly in wee hours of Tuesday morning, still clad in her panties and Matthew's sweatshirt, which she could hardly bear to part with long enough to run through the wash. Although Matthew, blissfully and exquisitely naked, was treading water a few feet from her own drawn-up knees she was not yet convinced that skinny-dipping under the dark velvet of a 3:00 a.m. sky was something she dared to do; the lake lapped invitingly, an expanse of black silk, and Matthew was right there, his hair slicked back from his forehead, his teeth flashing in the dark as he grinned at her, the majority of his body submerged under the water. She insisted, “Cody sees snakes at the beach all the time.”

He groaned in simulated exasperation, moved swiftly and lifted himself out of the water, bracing his elbows on the dock where she sat. Water purled over his back and huge shoulders and she wanted to lick the paths of it, but settled instead for tracing his dark eyebrows with one index finger. Her heart pounded harder just having him closer to her body; his face was uncharacteristically chilly from the lake. He caught her hand and lightly bit her teasing finger, then kissed it.

“Baby, get in here,” he said, wrapping his cold hands around her warm bare thighs, and she squeaked. “There's not a damn snake for miles, I promise.”

She rolled her eyes at him but pulled the sweatshirt over her head in one smooth motion and was pleased to hear his low murmur at the sight of her breasts, nipples at military attention in the still night air. She moved to slide in beside him, her bottom lip clenched in her teeth, and he grinned at her like the most gorgeous demon in existence, then backed off and ducked fully under the water.

Her gasp was cut off by the lukewarm water closing momentarily over her head, and she surfaced with a splutter and thrashed around in panic; Matthew had not yet reappeared, and the lake seemed huge and no doubt snake-infested without him near. In the next second something as strong and cold as iron locked around her left ankle, and though she knew it was just Matthew fooling around, she screamed as though it were a shark, and he broke the surface immediately, laughing so hard he could hardly breathe, reaching to engulf her in his arms. She splashed at him, angry, not allowing him to get near, but Matthew could not be stopped and she was against the solidness of his chest before she even saw him move.

“Baby,” he gasped out against her wet hair, still laughing. “For the love of all that's holy, be quiet! Do you want Wilder down here with the shot…the shotgun?”

She quit trying to wriggle away but continued to harbor thoughts of dunking him, though it would be like attempting to move a stone bridge the way she wanted it to go…in other words, impossible. She gave in and pressed her nipples against the sleek hardness of his wet chest. The water felt so good on her bare skin and Matthew tipped forward and kissed her lips, her neck, her lips again, and then said, “Come on, sweetheart, let's swim awhile.”

***

Erica sat
up in bed, her heart going like a jackhammer, her breath short. She felt as though she'd just woken from a bad dream, though she could not recall any actual content. Instinctively she reached over and touched Wilder's back in the darkness of their familiar bedroom; her husband murmured in his sleep and shifted position slightly, easing the tension in her belly a fraction. Moments passed and she came more fully awake, though could not completely shake the sensation that a scream had wakened her.

“Damn it,” she mumbled, and slipped from the bed and then into her yellow robe, made the rounds as she had often when the kids were small and still waking up at night. She peeked in on the girls first, feeling her heart relax as the sound of their steady deep breathing met her ears. She moved to replace the covers on Emma, brushed her fingertips over Evelyn's cheek, then crept soundlessly into Cody's room and gently tucked his right leg back into the bed. He sighed and shifted, and his leg popped back out from beneath the blankets.

Erica closed Cody's door with a soft click, found herself heading down the stairs and towards Matty's room before she knew what she was doing. His door was closed and she paused, reluctant to go back to bed without checking on him too, ridiculous as it might seem at his age. For a long moment she lingered in the hall outside his door, but at last she sighed and climbed back up to her room, snuggled into her pillow, stretched her left leg enough to feel Wilder, and tried to get back to sleep.

***

“I want
to see your room,” Bryce whispered to Matthew as they crept like naughty, wet-haired children through the woods. It was almost morning and they were playing with fire not being in the house yet. “It's the one room in the whole house I haven't been in.”

Matthew, holding her hand tight in his much bigger one, grinned over his shoulder at her and replied, “We'll sneak back for lunch.”

And so six hours later they met at the main lodge, exuding far too much casualness had anyone been inclinded to notice, and walked up the path together. Once the deep woods had cut off any view of the campground, Matthew took her small left hand back into his right, brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“I have never made love to anyone in my own bed,” he told her.

Her stomach went weightless at his words, though she couldn't resist teasing, “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Whad'dya mean?” he fired back, grinning at her. He was wearing his sunhat and swim trunks, his sunglasses trailing down his bare chest on a green cord. She was again dressed in her borrowed daisy bikini, a damp, sandy towel wrapped loosely around her hips. With her free hand she twisted at her heavy wet hair, which was practically steaming in the humidity. Above them the cloudless blue sky was bisected by the sharp borders of the towering pines all along the gravel road.

She swung their joined hands, smiling back at him with utter joy, refusing to acknowledge prickling inner layer of terror that seemed to be constantly beneath the surface as each passing day brought them closer to the reality in which she must leave. His eyes were so dark and dear to her; she felt as though she had known him for her entire life and then some, before and after, for all of time.

They were met at the screen by Nunu, who yawned and stretched and lazily resumed licking his front paws. Matthew stooped and stroked the cat's wide orange head, then led the way to his bedroom, into which Bryce had not yet had the nerve to peek, even last week when she'd been virtually alone in the house.

The door was open and sun fell in lazy streaks across the dark blue blanket on his big, unmade bed, stirred slightly by the shadows of leaves from outside. She entered first, moving slowly and carefully, taking it all in, wanting to run her hands over everything that he had touched, imbibe all of the essence of him that lived here. Matthew remained in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching her with a half smile lifting one corner of his mouth.

“Oh, look at you,” she said, bending to inspect a few photos on his bookshelf. Here he was in a red and silver uniform, number 11, posed on the ice with his hockey stick ready to strike, giving the camera his best teenage mug-shot expression, totally smileless, totally sexy. There were hockey pictures from all four years of high school, and she traced his face with her fingertips, wishing with her whole heart that she had lived here then, could have attended his countless games dressed in cute jeans and a puffy jacket, cheering and screaming for him from the stands. Never mind the small fact that she was his half-niece. She let the fantasy play out for a moment, then smiled at the picture of a much younger Matthew, maybe 10 or 11, at the edge of Rose Lake, tanned, baseball-capped and laughing at something, holding a huge stringer of fish.

“Yeah, I was a real bad-ass on the ice,” he said fondly. “Used to think I was good enough to go pro.” He snorted once with self-depracating humor and added, “But I still like playing on the local league.”

His room was a mess, clothes strewn all over the floor and along the back of a huge, faded armchair in one corner. He laughed at himself again and bent to scoop his arms full of laundry, which he pitched unceremoniously into an already-overflowing wicker hamper in the closet.

“What, no basketball hoop on the back of the door?” she teased. She loved seeing his things all over this space; in some ways it was more intimate than anything else. She resisted the urge to lift his pillow and bring it to her nose, breathe him in. Instead she moved to her favorite spot in the wide world and wrapped her arms around his waist, not caring that his arms were burdened with another pile of clothes. He dropped these instantly and caught her close, warmly kissed her left temple as she stretched up on tiptoe, buried her face against his neck and inhaled deeply.

“Mmmm,” she murmured.

“Bryce,” he murmured back, amazed yet again by how much a simple gesture, a small sound from her lips could stir him so fiercely.

“You smell so good,” she said, clinging back, eyes closed. His hands spread wide along her ribcage, fingers splayed like starfish on her nearly bare skin. With one smooth motion he unhooked her strapless bikini top and let it fall between their bodies to the carpet.

“Oops,” he whispered.

She pressed against the naked hardness of him, shifted her shoulders just slightly, rubbing her breasts against his chest hair. He swept the hat from his head and caught her even closer, kissed her deeply with the lips she fantasized about every second they were not on her skin. Though the door was wide open they kissed with abandon; Bryce had just about managed to get his slightly-damp swim trunks untied without breaking the contact of their mouths, their breath coming fast and hard, hearts hammering almost loud enough to cover the noise of Wilder coming in the screen door not 20 steps away.

“Matty?” Wilder called, and the rush of terrified adrenaline that flooded through her system nearly took Bryce to her knees.

“Under the bed,” Matthew said, low and fast, his own heart feeling as though an electric current had pierced it. His hands were shaking as he readjusted his trunks and tried to draw a full breath. Bryce slipped under the bed in a split second, the long covers just barely settling behind her as Wilder appeared in the doorway, crunching an apple, sweating, and appraised his younger brother for a moment.

“Erica said you'd come up here to grab lunch,” Wilder said, as Matthew attempted to appear preoccupied with his laundry, reluctant to meet his brother's eyes. His face felt as though a torch was being held about two inches away. “And I have a question for you.”

Oh Jesus Christ, oh shit
, Matthew thought, trapped, frozen with his back to Wilder.

“Sure, what's up?” he asked, certain that his voice would give him away.

But Wilder crunched a huge bite of his apple and continued, seemingly oblivious, “There's a situation down at the toilets.”

Matthew turned to face him at this unexpected statement, eyebrows raised slightly.

Wilder swallowed his mouthful and then pushed out his lips like a child blowing a raspberry. Then he laughed, grudgingly. “There's a goddamn badger in the ladies', and it's not budging.”

Matthew huffed out a laugh, more from relief than anything. He said, “Where the hell is Riley?”

Wilder shrugged. “Couldn't get him on the radio. He went into town.”

Matthew knew his older brother was deathly afraid of the creatures, not without reason. He'd been rushed and bitten savagely by one as a child, and still harbored a deep-seated fear. Only a very few people knew this about him. Matthew moved and mock-punched Wilder on the shoulder.