I give him the sweater, confused at his act of kindness. I guess this is a part of the whole “apology” thing he wants to accomplish today. Whatever the reason, I am grateful to not have a crick in my neck right about now.
Opening the door, I drop out of the truck and reach back in to grab my water bottle, which ended up on the floor by my backpack. I take a sip of water then store the bottle away in the side pocket of the bag before finagling my arms through the loops and securing it tightly to my back. After a little hop to make sure everything is set, I walk to the trailhead, briefly looking back to see if Mason is following.
He is.
“Have you been out here yet?” I ask.
“No, I haven't. But I saw on your social media that you liked to hike here, so I figured it would be a good place to come.”
I come to a halt and snap my head around. “You what?”
“Yes, Karoline. I’ve stalked your socials. It’s not just women that do that sort of thing, you know?” He laughs.
“But why?” I demand.
His laughter ceases, and he takes a step towards me.
I back up.
“Because,” he steps closer again as I take an equal step back, “I missed you. A lot.”
I study his expression. His brown eyes are soft and sad, ghostly. His lips are downturned and his shoulders drooped. Everything about this man, from the tired tone of his voice down to the way he has circles under his eyes, cries that he’s in pain.
But why should I care?
He brought my animosity upon himself.
I’ve got better things than you in my future.The words are like a scratched CD, a haunting repetitive echo from the past.
Without another word, I turn around and start trekking down the short trail again. The path isn’t the fun part of coming to the Bluffs. It’s the bluffs themselves—red dirt and clay, plenty of opportunities to climb, shade trees to rest under, and random bodies of water to cool off in.
When it’s summer, that is.
Mississippi may be warmer than most places in the winter, but it’s not warm enough to jump into a lake in January without catching a cold.
We continue to walk in verbal silence, the sounds of rocks and leaves and twigs crunching under our feet with the occasional song of a bird or whisper of the wind through the trees. When we reach the clearing, I take a pause and sip water. Then I shrug my sweater off and stuff it into my backpack.
As I look around to find Mason, I see him standing off in the distance towards the exit of the trail staring at…
Me.
His eyes roam up and down my body, and I don’t miss the pink blossoming in his cheeks.
I’m not supposed to care, but I do a celebration dance in my head anyway because my outfit accomplished exactly what I absolutely didn’t intend for it to.
Fine. I’ll stop trying to lie.
I had hoped my outfit would stop Mason in his tracks today.
“Are you just going to stand there, or…?”
Listen. I tried to detain the smirk playing at my lips, but it escaped, and with it, a smirk’s favorite accomplice, a flirty tone.
“When the view’s this good, it’s worth pausing to admire,” Mason flirts back while continuing to slowly peruse my body. I internally scream and chastise myself for cracking the door open. If Mason gets an inch, the man will, in fact, take the whole freaking mile.
“Fine. Suit yourself. I’m heading for the treetop over there.” I point across the Bluffs to where a magnolia tree sits on the tallest bluff. One could climb it directly, but I’ll be the first to admit that my stamina and arm strength are not that great. Instead, I’ll take a zigzag route with a slower incline until I reach the top. All in all, if nothing goes awry, I should make it there in two hours.
I swing my hiking bag back on and start towards my first incline.
