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The snowbirds fluttered under the bush near headquarters. Quint tossed a can of beer to Jared, Sam, and J.T before opening one for himself. The first cold swig quenched his thirst.
"It's official. People are pigs." J.T. shook his head in disgust. "You provide a dump station at the entrance, and yet, half of Loop C has evidence of campers digging a hole and draining their sewage into the ground. It doesn't make sense."
"Man, I'm glad the season is over." Sam leaned against the trunk of a cedar tree. "This year was busy with first-time campers. I've had my fill of sixty-year-old men who want me to explain every doohickey on their new rig."
"I'd take that over the kids." Jared whipped the bill of his hat around and drank from the can. "Besides having them underfoot asking a million questions, I think we should ban those freezer pops from being consumed within the campground. They toss the wrappers all over, doesn't matter to them that they get swept into the river, polluting our mountain."
"Hell, I've seen you sucking on those." J.T. laughed. "The pops, not the kids."
Sam snorted. "I don't know. I think I've seen him sucking on some teenage girls."
"Fuck you." Jared drained his drink. "Besides, I was only entertaining those that would be eighteen years old next summer."
Quint looked out over the campground to hide his amusement. He remembered being Jared's age and having Sawyer give him a lecture about staying away from the young girls.
He gazed at the driveway to the cabin. Not that he could blame the kid for grabbing a little enjoyment while earning a living. Katelynn had been there for him as his summer turned to shit.
"All right, you guys can take off, and I'll see you tomorrow." He stepped over and got on the ATV. "Same time tomorrow. If we're lucky and you work your asses off, you'll be out of here by Thursday afternoon."
"Hell, boss. Why don't you call it a day?" J.T. spit on the ground. "No use in you doing the work alone when we'll be here to help. We can hit it hard tomorrow."
"The forecast is calling for rain by the end of the week. I want to work along the river before the water rises. There will be enough work for you guys." He started the engine. "Don't forget to take those boxes in headquarters home with you."
He rode off. Needing the time alone to sort through his personal life.
Katelynn deserved more from him now that work for the season was near finished. He hadn't had time to come to terms with Will dying or predict when Jaster would show himself. As if sitting on a ticking time bomb, he'd never been good at making quick decisions.
If he needed to know how many square feet were included in a pull-through campsite, he could work out the problem in his head or how many rolls of toilet paper it took for one season at seventy-five percent full it would take to supply four bathrooms with three toilets each, and he'd put the order in automatically.
He had no problem with equations.
Katelynn being here constantly stumped him.
He arrived at the Northeast section of the river, where he could see if any vehicles approached the closed gate. Getting off the ATV, he stood on the bank and surveyed the bend. Last year's spring runoff had caused part of the bank to erode. Not wanting to remove the trees that stabilized the ground, he could clear out the brush and still make the area passable for guests who explored the area on foot.
He rode around the bend, the tires of the quad going in six inches of water. A deer drinking from the river's edge spooked, running back into the woods. He stopped at the firepit and got off the ride, toeing the charred remains of the logs left behind.
The campers had gone through enough wood over the summer, he'd need to split a couple of cords before the snow came to make sure the guests had dry wood through next summer. City folks enjoyed their outdoor heaters but wasted nature's fuel.
Grabbing the ax off the back of the ATV, he hiked over to the lean-to and set to making more firewood. He enjoyed the manual labor. The rhythmic motions of lifting an ax. The sound of his energy splitting the logs. The satisfaction of living off the land.
Two hours later, he'd chopped until his muscles tired. Using his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, he rode back through the campground, double checked the gate to make sure it was locked and headed to the cabin.
Hopefully, Katelynn got some rest today on her first day off. The extra work he'd put in only sparked his need for her. He flung his shirt over his shoulder and walked inside the cabin bare-chested. A quick shower, some food, and he planned to make an early night with her in his bed.
Not seeing her in the living room, he walked down the hallway to the bedroom. "Katelynn?"
He stepped inside the room and looked into the bathroom. His body tensed. She wouldn't go off on a walk, not after everything that'd happened. Jaster was still out there, and he'd told her many times not to go alone.
He turned to go out on the porch and spotted a piece of paper on the bed. He stared, afraid to read it, afraid Jaster got to Katelynn.
His next breath never came. He pulled his phone out, checking his messages and seeing if he missed a phone call.
Nobody had called or tried to contact him.
He hung his arms down to his sides. If something happened to Katelynn, he'd lose his mind. She was a part of him. He'd brought her into his life, shared his past, and fallen in love.
The thought of losing her was impossible to accept, he walked over to the bed and snatched up the paper.
Dear Quint,
I want to thank you for everything you've done for me. Even writing that sounds incredibly lame and insignificant compared to what we've been through. All my life, I've looked for someone to fill the empty hole in my heart. I've made mistakes and bad choices but running to you was the best thing I've ever done. Maybe a small part of me recognized the hurt and longing you'd gone through and clung to what we had in common. By the time we slept together, I knew with all my heart that what we had together was bigger than both of us.
That hole in my heart? You filled it.
You're a strong man who unfortunately has a hard life, and I would never want to be another risk you have to take care of. I wish, I could've told you goodbye in person, but I'm not as strong as you. Your strength is something I admire and respect.
Jared's going to help me leave, and by the time you get this letter, I'll be out of Idaho. I'm sorry if not telling you this morning about my plans hurts you. That was never my intent. I simply couldn't trust myself not to beg you to let me stay.
Be safe, Quint. There will never be a day, an hour, a second, that I don't think about you.
Love,
Katelynn
P.S. I've left my truck with you. Please sell it and keep the money for the clothes, food, and the extra money you gave me.
He looked down at the bed and found a key. His hollow heart ached. She'd left him.
He never asked her to go. Winter was coming, and he'd assumed she'd stay with him. He would finally have all the time in the world to be with her.
His head pounded. He should've known something was wrong.
She'd cried that morning after they'd had sex, and blind to her plans, he'd walked out of the cabin without any idea that when he came back home, she'd be gone.
Where had she gone?
She'd left Idaho. Would she have tried to make it back to Vancouver?
His hand wrinkled the paper. She couldn't have gone far.
He dropped the paper and took out his phone, calling Jared. His employee had left the campground two hours ago. He'd watched Jared's truck go through the gate.
And, he had no fucking clue; his woman had been in the vehicle.
"Yo," answered Jared.
"Where the hell is she?"