Unrequited

  tags and roof racks full of luggage. Vic and Shane both eased

  themselves out of the hybrid, stretching and groaning.

  “I hate your car,” Shane muttered as he joined Vic in front

  of a wooden information placard.

  “We’ll get some bungee cords and I’ll tie you to the roof

  rack,” Vic told him distractedly as he read the information

  behind the Plexiglas.

  Shane grumbled and rubbed at a spot on his back, and

  Vic reached forward and grabbed one of the brochures offered

  to tourists. It was the same design he’d seen in other national

  parks. He flipped it open, scanning the information about the

  history of Roanoke Island and Fort Raleigh and the Lost

  Colony. He knew the bare bones of the story; that the settlers

  here had disappeared, never to be heard from again. It was one

  of the great mysteries of history, and America’s oldest.

  “Park closes in an hour,” Shane pointed out as he nodded

  at the information. “Should be enough time to see it.”

  Vic nodded and turned the brochure sideways, peering at

  the little map inside. He folded it back up and waved it around

  at the trail, just a few yards from where they stood. “After you,”

  he offered.

  They started off into the wooded area, following the

  sidewalk until it abruptly ended and became a dirt path. They

  carried on, stopping at each wooden stand that held

  information, reading the anecdotes as they went.

  When they came to a mound of earth in the middle of a

  small clearing, they made their way toward it to examine it. The

  32 Unrequited | Abigail Roux

  depression within the raised mounds of earth was perhaps ten

  feet on each side, roughly square, and Vic realized suddenly

  that this was Fort Raleigh.

  Shane stood in the middle of it, looking around as he came

  to the same conclusion. “Can you imagine this being your last

  line of defense?” he asked, raising his hand to indicate where

  the wooden stockade fence must have been, high atop the

  mounds. “It’d be like trying to fit three dozen people inside your

  car,” he said in an amazed voice.

  Vic laughed softly and shook his head, trying to imagine

  what the fort had looked like with the stockades.

  “Shit,” Shane muttered as he walked out of the depression

  again. “No wonder they had to clear out,” he said, shaking his

  head as he found the trail and started off down it. Vic jogged to

  catch him and they walked side by side down the wooded trail.

  “How do you get lost on an island?” Shane mused as he

  looked around them.

  “They didn’t get lost,” Vic pointed out in amusement. “They

  disappeared. There’s a difference.”

  “Gone is gone,” Shane argued as the underbrush began to

  grow thicker. They pushed through it, sweating in the humid

  evening as the sun began to set.

  It quickly grew dim amidst the trees.

  “Think maybe we should head back now?” Vic asked. They

  hadn’t seen anything but little plaques talking about what type

  of tree they were standing under and how the settlers may have

  gathered acorns. The fort had been fascinating just to see how

  small it actually was, but Vic would not have driven out here

  just for that. They’d soon wandered away from the little

  information plaques, not bothering to read them when they

  came to them.

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  Shane mumbled something and looked behind them,

  narrowing his eyes. “Where’s the trail?” he asked as he glanced

  at Vic.

  Vic looked around, shrugging as he began to fan his face

  with the brochure he’d been holding. “I think we may be off the

  map,” he said as he pointed toward a lighter area ahead. “Keep

  going. We’ll break out eventually.”

  When they found sunlight and followed the trail toward it,

  breaking out of the wooded area onto a sandy trail, Vic was

  surprised to find them standing on a beach. He looked out

  across the sound to see land on the other side. Boats and

  condos lined the other island. To their right, on their island but

  across a wide tributary, was the back side of an amphitheater.

  Vic knew they performed an outdoor play here. That had to be

  where they did it.

  “I don’t think this is the trail,” Shane commented wryly.

  Vic turned to glare at him. “We’ll just backtrack,” he

  suggested as he gestured toward the way they’d come. “Come

  on; it’s hotter than hell,” he muttered.

  They wandered around looking for the trail, or any

  semblance of a trail, or even anything that looked like it once

  had been a trail, and finally when they came to a small

  clearing, Shane stopped them and held up his hand.

  “Are we lost?” he asked with a smile.

  “Shane,” Vic warned.

  “Have we managed to get lost at the Lost Colony?” Shane

  posed as he began to laugh.

  “That’s not funny,” Vic told him, though he was smiling

  slightly. He fanned himself with the crumpled brochure, then

  wiped at the sweat running down his cheek. It was hot and

  muggy beneath the shelter of the trees, where no wind could

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  reach them. “I’ve got to start working out again,” he told Shane,

  slightly out of breath as they stood there.

  Shane shook his head, using the back of his hand to wipe

  at his forehead. “Just remind me never to go camping with you.

  You’re bad luck,” he claimed as he picked a direction and

  started off again.

  Vic followed, grumbling. When they finally broke free of the

  trees again, they stood on a well-manicured lawn, looking at

  the backs of the buildings that made up the restrooms and

  information centers and research offices of the park. The

  parking lot stretched out on the other side of the buildings.

  “Thank God,” Shane grumbled.

  “How the fuck did we circle behind the park?” Vic asked as

  he wiped at his face again, pulling away bits of the spider web

  he’d managed to walk through.

  “I don’t care,” Shane declared as he looked at Vic. He

  barked a laugh suddenly. “What’d you do to your face?” he

  asked as he laughed.

  “What? What’s wrong with it?” Vic asked as he poked at

  his face experimentally.

  “You’ve got black all over you,” Shane snickered as he

  swiped his thumb over Vic’s cheekbone. It came back stained a

  gray-blue color.

  Vic looked down at his fingers. His thumb and forefinger

  were stained dark.

  “Vic, you didn’t really need war paint,” Shane cackled as

  he took the brochure Vic had been holding. The ink had

  rubbed off onto his sweaty fingers, and every time he’d wiped at

  his face, he’d smeared streaks along his skin.

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  “Son of a bitch,” Vic muttered. Then he began snickering

  as he wiped at his face with the heel of his hand. “Where is it?”

  he asked as he looked at his hand agai
n.

  “Here, let me.” Shane stepped closer, taking Vic’s face in

  his hands and swiping at the skin with his thumb.

  Vic was caught by how the oddly tender gesture made his

  stomach tumble. He blinked at Shane in surprise, his chest

  fluttering a little as Shane’s fingers rubbed the ink away. They

  were surprisingly rough for a man who spent all his time sitting

  in a courtroom, but they felt good against Vic’s skin

  nonetheless.

  He’d never had that reaction to Shane before. Shane didn’t

  seem to notice, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried

  to wipe the worst of the ink away. Vic swallowed hard, closing

  his eyes under the pretense of not being poked in the eye, and

  he just let himself enjoy the attention.

  “Well… you’re presentable now anyway,” Shane told him

  after another moment or two. His voice wavered with

  amusement. “Maybe we should find a hotel with a shower first,

  then eat,” he suggested.

  Vic opened his eyes, looking at Shane in a slightly different

  light for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally agreed as they both

  turned to head for the car.

  When they checked into the first inn they came across, a

  building made to look like an old Tudor mansion with exposed

  beams painted along the outside, they both were dirty, sweaty,

  and slightly giddy from the prospect of food and air-

  conditioning that wasn’t solar powered as they drove.

  The woman gave them a dubious glance as she processed

  Shane’s credit card. “Been a long trip, huh?” she finally asked

  as she handed Shane his card back.

  36 Unrequited | Abigail Roux

  “You have no idea,” they answered in unison.

  “These tourist trap places bother me,” Shane grumbled as

  they sat at a table near the windows along the water. The

  restaurant was full of fishing-themed decorations: nets draped

  the walls, large crabs and small painted buoys hung along

  them. Other walls were adorned with wooden signs, the type

  found in beach stores like Wings and Pacific, with cute little

  sayings carved into them.

  “So why are we eating here?” Vic asked in amusement. He

  enjoyed Shane when he was grumpy, and he wasn’t sure why.

  It was endearing, to watch a generally happy man search for

  something to complain about.

  “Because it was close,” Shane reminded with a disgruntled

  huff.

  Vic merely smiled at him. Shane narrowed his eyes then

  broke into a grin he’d obviously tried and failed to contain.

  “At least you’re happier,” he observed, sounding pleased

  with himself.

  Vic took a moment to analyze the statement. Then he

  nodded in agreement. He hadn’t thought of Owen all day. And

  it had been a good day. He pursed his lips, trying to conceal

  the surprise he felt at that realization.

  “I guess some things are better when they end,” he said as

  he moved his shrimp around with his fork.

  Shane watched him carefully. “You really mean that?” he

  finally asked dubiously.

  Vic looked up at him curiously.

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  “I mean… you’re saying if Owen called you right now and

  asked you to come back, you wouldn’t go?” Shane clarified.

  Vic immediately shook his head. “I am determined,” he

  said forcefully. “It’ll be better if we both just move on to other

  things. Better things. That’s my goal for the next month. When

  I get home, I won’t need him anymore.”

  Shane was silent in response. When Vic looked up at him

  to see his reaction, Shane was watching him speculatively.

  “What?” Vic asked, suddenly self-conscious.

  “I think you might actually mean that,” Shane observed,

  his eyes narrowed.

  Vic nodded again, emphatically. “Life’s too short to spend

  it pining away for something you’ll never have.”

  Shane jerked just slightly in reaction, blinking and looking

  away to break their eye contact, but then he nodded and

  reached for his drink to take a sip. “You’re right,” he said

  approvingly when he put the glass down.

  Vic wondered about the reaction, hoping he hadn’t

  somehow hit a nerve. Despite all the years they’d been friends,

  Vic still really didn’t know much about Shane’s past or his

  personal life. Shane was the type of man who talked about the

  here and now. He wasn’t cagey or hesitant to answer questions;

  he just didn’t bother talking much about the past.

  Vic watched him, musing over how little he knew about a

  man he considered one of his best friends. A lot of their time

  spent together, in fact, was filled with comfortable silences.

  Vic returned his attention to his plate, risking one more

  thoughtful glance at Shane as they ate.

  38 Unrequited | Abigail Roux

  “It’s the crack of dawn, Shane. What the hell are we doing

  up?” Vic asked tiredly as they got out of the car and looked

  around the nearly deserted parking lot. It was just now eight

  a.m., but the sun was already bearing down on them and the

  humidity was off the chart.

  “I figured if we hit the outdoor places early it wouldn’t be

  so hot,” Shane answered apologetically. But not only was it

  already hot, it was so early that the sun hadn’t yet had the

  chance to burn away any moisture. Vic’s clothing was already

  sticking to him. Vic looked at him and Shane shrugged. “Live

  and learn?” he tried with a hopeful smile.

  Vic rolled his eyes and smiled. “Come on,” he said as he

  grabbed a bottle of water and slid it into his pocket. He and

  Shane headed for the entrance to Jockey’s Ridge, walking past

  the building with the restrooms and toward a sidewalk with

  signs pointing the way.

  Printouts encased in plastic warned visitors to drink

  plenty of water and heed the heat warnings. Vic groaned.

  They started up the wooden walkway and were

  immediately met with a staircase that led up at least three

  stories high.

  “Fuck, no,” Vic said immediately. “Isn’t there an elevator or

  something?” he whined as Shane laughed and took his elbow.

  “Come on, Counselor,” he instructed as he pulled Vic

  toward the stairs.

  “I thought Jockey’s Ridge was just sand dunes!” Vic

  protested. “What the hell kind of sand dunes need a mile of

  steps?”

  “Really big ones,” Shane said with relish as they started up

  the wooden stairs.

  39 Unrequited | Abigail Roux

  By the time they got to the top, they were both breathing

  heavily and sweating profusely. There was a strong wind that

  cooled their skin, combating the sunshine, but it wasn’t nearly

  enough. The hem of the shorts Vic wore whipped around at his

  thighs, and his T-shirt plastered to his chest and stomach as

  the wind pummeled them.

  They looked around the expanse, both silent as they took

  it in. These weren’t sand dunes—they were mountains! Vic

  stared, openm
outhed. Piles of sand rose in every direction,

  divided by valleys where the wind hadn’t yet swept away the

  footprints of those who’d come before them.

  On one peak a group of people seemed to be taking a

  class. As Vic watched, a man attached to a hang glider ran off

  the side of the sand dune and sailed into the air.

  “Cool,” Shane drawled as he eyed the flying man.

  “Hell, no,” Vic said immediately. “My feet don’t leave

  earth,” he declared as he looked around again. There were no

  steps to get down into the first valley. Just a steep wall of sand

  as you stepped off the wooden platform.

  “First one to the bottom?” Shane asked with a grin.

  “I refuse to break my neck rolling down a sand dune,” Vic

  said with a shake of his head.

  “Spoilsport,” Shane muttered as he stepped off the

  platform and immediately slid four feet down the side of the

  sand dune. He managed to keep his balance, laughing as he

  began making his way down. With each step he picked up

  speed and soon he was hopping through the sand, practically

  running down the hill.

  Vic watched until Shane made it to the bottom, smiling

  crookedly. He decided to throw caution to the wind and follow

  suit, so he leapt from the platform and hopped his way down

  40 Unrequited | Abigail Roux

  the side of the sand dune just as Shane had done. By the time

  he reached the bottom, he’d picked up enough speed that

  trying to stop would inevitably end up hurling him face-first

  into the sand. Shane grabbed him as the ground evened out,

  both of them nearly losing their balance and laughing like

  schoolchildren playing in a sandbox.

  Once Vic righted himself, he was again struck by how

  natural Shane’s arm around him felt. His breath on Vic’s neck

  as he laughed was a welcome feeling too. Vic didn’t move,

  hoping to prolong the moment. Shane stepped back, his hand

  lingering on Vic’s back as he looked up at the nearest sand

  dune. It towered over them, and they stood looking at it, their

  arms around each other.

  “Well,” Shane finally said determinedly, letting his hand

  slip off Vic’s back. “Ready?” he asked with a gesture to the top