Page 21 of The Triple Play

“I know, I’m just teasing. You know I’m so proud of you, Olivia. You’ve come so far in your career, and I know you’ll only continue to do great things. You’re one tough cookie, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I mean it. You’re so strong and smart and independent. Going off on these trips all by yourself used to worry me. I mean, you’re hiking into a secluded forest, all alone.”

“I’ll have Trip with me,” I protest with a smile.

Sure enough, that makes Dad laugh. “You know just as well as I do that he’s more likely to roll over and ask for a belly rub from a stranger than go into attack mode.”

I giggle as well. “True. But at least he looks scary.”

We keep talking for a few more minutes before hanging up. In the silence that follows, I replay the conversation. It’s so similar to ones we’ve had before, when Dad praises my independence and strength. I know he means well, and it usually makes me feel good. But sometimes, like right now, I can’t help but wonder how it would feel to not have to be so strong and independent all the time.

It’s not like I’ve ever had a chance to find out. Mom died when I was eight, and while Dad did everything possible to hold us together, raising three kids on his own was a lot. I had no choice but to grow up quickly. And being the only girl in the family amplified that times a thousand. I didn’t have a mom or a big sister to help me figure out my first period or buy me a training bra.

I had to go through all of that alone.

With one last scan of my desk to make sure I haven’t left anything behind, I grab the tote and my computer bag and head out of the lab. I need to stop at the store for a few last-minute supplies, and then it’s home to shower and head to bed early.

I’m browsing the chocolate aisle at the grocery store when a teasing voice reaches me.

“You know, the best part of being an adult means you don’t have to pick one or the other. Just take both.”

I pivot on my heel, two chocolate bars in hand, to see Denver’s handsome face. I know Cedar Creek is a small town, but it’s not that small. How on earth do I keep running into the two men who manage to make my brain stop functioning normally?

“Good point.” I drop both into my basket. He glances down at the basket, then back at me.

“Preparing for the apocalypse?”

I try to look annoyed at his teasing but fail as I can’t hold back my smile. “Field snacks. My work trip is coming up.”

“Ah yes, because every great scientific expedition requires sour gummy worms and”—he looks down again and chuckles—“Cool Ranch Doritos. I’m more of a sweet chili heat guy myself.”

“Don’t forget the turkey jerky,” I reply with some sass.

“Foxxy, did you find the…Liv.” Griffin rounds the corner and comes to a stop.

“Yep, I found a Liv.” Denver moves next to me, resting his elbow on my shoulder. “She’s stocking up for an apocalyptic research trip to the…” He turns to look at me. “Wait, you told me about this. You’re going into⁠—”

“Strathcona Park,” Griffin interrupts, his voice rough. His gaze moves from me to Denver, or rather, Denver’s elbow that’s still on my shoulder. “The cabin just past the Lupin Falls trail.”

Denver’s elbow falls away, and I look over to see his moustache turned down in a frown. “That forestry road floods almost every spring because of runoff filling the lake. Have you considered approaching from the east side instead?”

“Or use the lower ridgeline trail. It’ll be a longer hike in, but less likely to get washed out,” Griffin adds.

“I can’t do that, I’ve got too much equipment. I need to be able to drive in.”

“Wait, are you going to be at the cabin alone?” Denver asks.

I nod. “Just me and Trip.”

“You’ve got a sat phone, right? You’ll be doing regular check-ins with someone?”

“Of course. It’s protocol for me to check in with my department head every evening.”

“And you’ve got the contact information for search and rescue?” Griffin adds, and I turn to look at him, nodding again.

“Yes, it’s all in our safety procedures manual. This isn’t my first time doing field work on my own, guys.”