Page 29 of One Last Shot

“Reynolds said that finances were tight.”

“I’m not sure how, but we’re in the red. Mike took a second mortgage out on the house to produce this season, and now...” She closed her eyes. Drew in a breath. Opened them. “I keep telling myself not to panic. Mike always has everything under control. But... it’s hard not to, with him in the ICU. And now he almost died.”

He didn’t add,For the third time.

Instead, “Reynolds wants me to stay around and shoot a reality show with the local rescue team. Train with them, go out on rescues...”

“Cool,” Liam said.

He looked at the kid, who shrugged. “Jumping out of helicopters, rescuing people from rivers—people love that kind of stuff.”

Yeah, they do.

“I think you’ve done enough, Oaken. Don’t put yourself in more danger for Mike. But thank you.” Seraphina gave him a small smile.

But his gaze landed on Jasmine, wide-eyed and staring at him like he might be some kind of hero.

And shoot if he didn’t want to believe it.

Aw... He was standing on the side of a lake again, waiting for a chopper, watching himself dig just a little deeper. But what was he going to do, abandon them?

Besides, he had done an amazingjob out there.

“I’m going to go find you a decent hotel.” He stood up.

“Reynolds said they booked us at some place nearby.”

“Like I said, I’m going to find you a decent hotel. And then I have to call my manager and work out a few details.”

She caught his hand. “I never believed anything social media said.”

He pursed his lips.

“And Mike didn’t either.”

Sweet, but... it didn’t matter what they thought.

Only what was true.

“Thanks.” He drew in a breath. “He’s going to make it, Seraphina. I know it. And I promise... I’m not leaving. Not until Mike is truly out of the woods.”

CHAPTER 4

Maybe an early morning run would help shake off the nightmares from the last forty-eight hours.

Boo had foregone her earbuds this morning in favor of listening to the birds awakening in the trees, the waves rolling against the shoreline of Kincaid Beach. A fog lifted off the water, and in the distance, she could just make out the dark outline of Fire Island. Overhead, the rising sun poured lava along the horizon, burning off the deep teal of night.

Maybe they were just nightmares, the sweaty dreams where Oaken Fox fell to his death, crumpled on the base of some remote mountain. Or drowned, caught in the wild rapids of some Alaskan river.

Just her worst fears playing out.

No, not her worst—those were more private and had to do with seeing herself again the subject of clickbait.

“This is a bad idea, Moose. Really bad. You don’t know—producers change footage, make it seem like you said things you never meant.”

Never mind the actual demands of being on a SAR team. Physical. Mental.Emotional.

Moose had lost his mind.