I move to shove him, and he playfully dodges me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into him. It’s natural for me to wrap my arms around his waist, the cotton of his shirt warm and comfortable against my cheek. His muscles underneath arehard, solid, and the clean scent of cedarwood and the faint freshness of evergreen air fill my nostrils.
I close my eyes, inhaling, and I swear he leans his nose into my hair and does the same.
When he pulls away, he offers a kiss to my forehead.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Always.”
“Max,Hier. Fuß.”
Dutifully, he heels to Noah, and we step onto the trail. It’s one of the most calming things and the world changes instantly. The hum of engines fades behind me, swallowed by the thick woods. Sunlight weaves through the trees, shifting patches over the thin ribbon of dirt beneath the jagged rocks rolling over the pathway.
The trail itself is uneven and more of a suggestion than the typical path I’m used to. It rests between exposed roots and clusters of wild ferns and weeds.
Noah leads the way, and I take the opportunity to examine his cargo-like hiking pants from behind, and I bite back a smile appreciating his backside like a creeper. Max glances at me like he’s caught me.
“So … where does this go?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
I huff, and Noah smirks at me over his shoulder. “It’s not too long. Thought you might need a good hike. I know you haven’t been able to go as much with watching my mom. Thank you, by the way.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” I skip over a large root. “She’s filled a void I didn’t realize I was missing.” I’ve missed that familial feeling, the feeling that there are people who have your back no matter what. Being around Ms. Sullivan has made me think of my mother more and more over the past few months.
“Do you miss your family?”
I keep focus on each of my steps. “Yes, but I don’t know how to reestablish a connection. Well, a genuine one. How do I answer their questions about leaving years ago and trekking across the U.S. without telling them the truth?”
My head snaps back and I freeze with how my worry rolled off the tip of my tongue so easily.
“And you don’t want to tell them?” He veers toward the right and somewhere in the distance, the faint rush of water drifts toward us.
“I’m not sure.” I dig deep. “Actually, that’s not true. I’m afraid they’ll look at me differently. As much work as I’ve done, shame still cripples me, and what if—even if they mean well—their response is more about them. I-I don’t know.”
Noah slows and turns to face me, giving me his undivided attention. That’s one thing with Noah—he’s always listening. The way he’s staring at me, mid-path, prompts me to continue.
“I won’t be my dad’s sweet, innocent little girl anymore when he hears this. My mother will act like her perfect world has been turned upside down, and my brothers—hell—Liam would probably burn the state down looking for him. I just don’t know if it’s worth it.”
Noah threads his fingers through mine, offering a gentle squeeze. “If it helpsyou, then it’s worth it.”
“Seems a bit opposite of what I’ve come to know from the selfless Ranger Rick.” I grin, and he flicks my nose.
“Lily, on your behalf, I’ll be the most selfish man in the whole damn world.”
A zing sneaks up my spine, and I shudder. He really shouldn’t say this stuff to me. It has me wanting, needing, and I’m about ready to say screw the hike.
He leads me, and we end up walking what has to be another forty minutes or so.
Every so often, the trees break enough to reveal the glimpse of cliffs in the distance, the gray sheer faces kissed by the sun. This path doesn’t have the open views I’m used to hiking, but something about the underbrush and canopied trees makes this feel intimate and closed off from the rest of the massive park.
Since the trail is unmarked, there aren’t any official markers or posted information, and I’m unsure how far we’ve actually hiked. But I’m pulled, regardless of distance, by the uncertainty of the wilderness, and I can picture Noah and me doing this often. Hell, I want to make a habit of it.
The sound of rushing water gets louder, and Max, after carefully remaining at our sides for most of the hike, darts ahead like he knows the way.
My heart pounds as we break free from the tangled, unkempt path, and the sight of the modest waterfall nearly knocks me on my ass. I gasp as Noah steps aside, allowing me a better view.
Tucked between the towering cliffs, capped with a dusting of snow, the water spills from a hidden ledge like it’s bleeding from a crack in the earth. The water trickles down moss-slicked rocks, then vanishes into a kiddie-sized pool. It resembles a hot spring, but I can only imagine the water is ice cold.
