Finding Home Box Set

Chapter 3: Curses and Late-Night Swims

Chapter 3: Curses and Late-Night SwimsJoshua stumbled as he dragged the canoe up onto the riverbank. It was one of Taylor’s which meant there probably was a tourist in the woods somewhere. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had failed to pull the canoe out of the river before stopping to stretch their legs.

Josh had left his phone in the car, so he couldn’t call Taylor and ask to whom he’d rented the canoe. Taylor’s place was quite a bit from here, so chances were they’d lost it upstream and already had informed him.

For a second, he played with the idea of ignoring it. He didn’t want to spend his Friday evening trekking up the river. Especially considering it would be dark soon and he hadn’t managed more than a couple of casts. Growling, he disassembled the fly rod.

Someone could be hurt. Fucker.

Leaving his gear by a tree, he walked upstream, keeping his waders on in case he needed to get back into the water, and looking for signs of people.

Dusk was falling, and the few moments of peace Josh had managed to get in were gone. He was sweating again, but the water, while not really cold yet, was cold enough to be dangerous if someone were left in it overnight. Though, if they were still in the river, there were probably more significant problems than cold at play…like a concussion.

Unease crept into his belly. The waterfall was a good fifteen minutes’ walk from here, and it wasn’t a big one, but you couldn’t go down it with a canoe. There was a portage. The canoer got out about 500 metres from the fall and carried the canoe past it.

Joshua increased his speed. If someone had gone down the fall there would probably have been more damage to the canoe, but had he checked? He hadn’t, not closely.

If someone had gone down, fallen out, hit their head…Joshua wasn’t keen on finding a dead body this particular night. It hadn’t been how he’d pictured it going.

* * * *

The shock of hitting the water had stolen Oswald’s breath, then fear had kicked in. So f*****g clumsy. He’d steered the canoe towards the portage; there had been signs pointing to where he should go, and the man he’d rented the canoe from had talked him through it.

Wasn’t standing up in a boat the first thing you learnt not to do? Oswald didn’t know, but when he’d begun swaying and wobbling those were the words ringing in his head.

It had been colder than he’d thought it’d be, but the pull of the current was what had panic roaring in his ears. Funny how when he realised he might die if he went down the waterfall he wanted to live. Invisible hands had dragged him down under the surface, and he’d fought them until his muscles ached, until his lungs burned, until a numbness had all but immobilised him.

He’d hit a rock. The pain in his hip as he’d crashed into the solid shape was jarring, but he’d managed to cling to it. Frothy whitewater washed over him as he tore his hands to shreds on the stones—crawling, pulling, dragging. When he’d finally managed to haul himself onto a rock a couple of metres from the riverbank, he’d collapsed there.

Where the canoe had gone, he didn’t know, and he didn’t have the energy to move. He lay there panting until his eyes drifted closed. He’d rest for a little bit, a few minutes; then he’d go the last bit till he was up on dry land.

A few seconds later he began chuckling. So f*****g pathetic. No wonder Guy had needed others. He couldn’t even get himself down a river without f*****g up.

The chills came next, his entire body shaking and shuddering and the chuckles turned into sob-like sounds.

Oswald didn’t sob; he didn’t cry—crying never helped anything. He’d walked in on his husband-to-be with his c**k buried in the best man’s throat—and he hadn’t made a sound. He’d walked up to the altar and told everyone the wedding was off—and he hadn’t cried. He’d gone back to the apartment he’d shared with Guy for the last five years and packed his clothes—and not a single tear had escaped his eyes. He’d stood there while Guy had been screaming at him that he was ridiculous, that none of the others meant anything, that everyone knew that, no matter how many others there were, Oswald was the one who mattered. Oswald was the one he’d chosen to marry—and he hadn’t uttered one word in response.

Two hundred and seventy-three days, or was it two hundred and seventy-four now? He cracked his eyes open. It was near-full dark, so it might have turned into day number two hundred and seventy-four. With chattering teeth, he looked around.

A bird screeched not far from him; he’d always believed the forest was quiet after dark. Resting his forehead against the rock he tried to make his teeth stop chattering, but it was freaking cold.

Then a branch cracked, and the sound of muttered curses followed.

* * * *

Joshua followed the trail up past the waterfall. It had taken longer than he’d thought it would. His sweat-soaked long-sleeved T-shirt was clinging to his body, and it didn’t help that the darkness had grown thicker around him. He wasn’t afraid he wouldn’t find his way back; he’d walked here often enough in daylight to know where things could get dicey but also when the worst that could happen was he’d scratch himself on a twig.

He walked as close to the river as he could. It was easier to see there than among the trees. The sound of the water quieted as soon as he’d passed the fall. It was still louder than it was downstream, but at least he could listen again.

Glancing out over the river, he missed the branch that had fallen over the trail. His legs caught in it, the crack as he stumbled loud enough to wake the dead, and he cursed the devil and his mother while rubbing his calf—no blood.

As he looked out over the river again, he thought something moved on a rock just a little bit above where the currents really sped up.

“Hey!”

The form moved again, and a moan travelled in the wind. f**k. He’d hoped he’d imagined it. “Are you all right?” Stupid question.

“Splendid. Thanks for asking.”

Josh smiled. A man judging from the voice and probably not in danger of dying on him. “Well, then, are you planning on sleeping out there tonight or could I perhaps persuade you to join me up here where it’s a little dryer?”

The silence lasted too long for Joshua’s liking. “You still with me?” The man groaned, and Josh’s stomach knotted. Perhaps he was more hurt than he’d assumed. “Wait there. I’m coming to get you.”

He ran back to the branch he’d tripped over and grabbed it. It was long enough for him to test the ground before stepping into the stream. He hoped it wouldn’t be deeper than his waders. “You still with me?”

Poking with the stick, he tested the uneven ground and slipped first one then the other foot into the water. He held on to the grass on the riverbank for a few seconds while trying to determine if it was safe to let go. The current was strong, not enough to pull him down, but if he slipped…

Moving one foot, then the stick, then the other foot, and all the while the tug of the current intensified…The man on the rock was crawling towards him, still out of the water but seemingly prepared to take another dip.

“Wait for me, okay?” Joshua looked at him, blond hair clinging to his forehead and the closer he came the clearer he could hear his teeth chattering. “Oswald?”

The man narrowed his eyes, but the chatter of his teeth didn’t stop. “Great, of course, it’s someone who knows who I am.”

Joshua chuckled. “Sorry, man. May I ask, though, why the late-night swim?”

Oswald groaned, one foot slipping in the black river. “Late night? What time is it?”

“I’m guessing around seven.” Josh curled his fingers around Oswald’s slim wrist, his skin almost colder than the water. “Come on, man.” He tugged a little, wishing he could carry him so he wouldn’t have to get back in, but not daring to.

“s**t, it’s cold.”

Josh nodded. “We’ll get you warm in no time.”

“Somehow, I doubt it.”

Yeah. “Okay, but if you give me an hour, I’ll have you nice and toasty.” Josh bit his lip as he pictured Oswald snuggled up in his bed. That was just plain stupid—he didn’t have guys snuggle in his bed, ever. “Where are you staying?”

He guided Oz to take a step, then took one himself, and then tugged at Oswald’s arm again. Little by little they neared the riverbank, though Oz swayed more than once and Josh clung to the stick jammed between rocks at others.

“I’m not.” Oz’s voice shook, and Josh could tell his entire being was shivering.

“You’re not, what?”

“Staying anywhere. I told Aid I was living in the hotel. Turns out there wasn’t one in the village.”

Josh chuckled once more. “Okay.”

The picture of his bed flashed before his eyes again.