I change into yoga pants while Patrick is in the bathroom, moving quietly. When I’m done, I wait by the door, hands clasped together.
He comes out a minute later, drying his hands on his jeans. “Ready?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Together, we head down the narrow trail behind the cabin. The forest is dense and damp, the ground soft beneath our boots. We walk slowly, carefully stepping over slick stones and fallen branches, the air thick with the scent of wet trees.
Neither of us talks much. It’s not awkward. It’s peaceful. Like the place demands quiet.
Then we reach the water.
“Stream” feels like an understatement. It’s more of a small waterfall, loud and rushing hard over dark rocks. The water iscloudy, brownish from the recent rains, but it’s still striking, still powerful.
“Wow,” I breathe, stepping closer without thinking.
“Careful,” Patrick says quickly, extending a hand and lightly stopping me.
“What?” I ask, glancing back at him, confused.
“Look at the water line,” he says.
I follow his gaze. The banks are soaked, covering the roots of trees and other vegetation.
“This isn’t normal,” he continues, voice serious now. “Barry said it was a stream. This is… way above that. Practically a lake.”
I shrug, uneasy but trying to brush it off. “Maybe he was confused.”
Patrick doesn’t laugh. He studies the water a moment longer, jaw tight, instincts kicking in. The same instincts that make him good at his job.
“Maybe,” he says slowly. “We shouldn’t push our luck.”
I nod, suddenly grateful for his caution, for the way he steps half a pace closer to me without touching, just close enough to catch me if the ground shifts beneath our feet. I notice his protective stance, the way his body angles instinctively between me and the water, between me and anything that could go wrong.
When I’m with him like this, I know nothing can touch me. Apparently not even nature.
Smiling, I reach out and grab his hand. “Let’s go back.”
He doesn’t look at me at first. His eyes are still locked on the waterfall, assessing. I tug his hand gently. “Patrick,” I say, firmernow. “Let’s go back. The cabin’s way higher on the mountain. We’ll be fine.”
He exhales, finally turning to me, and nods. “You’re right,” he says. “Let’s go.”
We’ve barely made it halfway back up the trail when the sky opens up.
Rain slams down hard and fast, soaking us instantly. I gasp as cold water soaks through my clothes, my hair plastering to my face. You’d think the thick trees would protect us from the downpour, but they don’t. They amplify it instead, the rain hammering the leaves so loudly it feels like the whole forest is roaring.
There’s nowhere to duck off the trail, nowhere dry to wait it out. The ground turns slick beneath our boots, mud clinging and sliding with every step uphill.
Patrick tightens his grip on my hand.
He doesn’t let go once.
He moves slightly ahead of me now, pulling me up the incline, adjusting his pace without saying a word. When I slip, he steadies me immediately. When I lose my footing, his arm closes around mine, keeping me upright.
“You okay?” he asks over his shoulder, rain dripping from his lashes.
“Yeah,” I say, breathless.
We’re completely soaked by the time the cabin finally comes into view, a dark shape through the trees. My legs burn from the climb, my heart pounding from more than just the exertion.
