"On a walk. I just said that a minute ago."
Forcing himself to get his shit together, Cade stuttered, "Oh, yeah. Um, I guess. Nothing else to do."
Once outside, he followed behind Tristan, trying not to ogle his ass. He angled his face to the clouds, only returning it to the ground to watch his step as they entered the trees.
There was no clear path, but Tristan picked a direction and poked around as he ambled. The sun peeked through the canopy in places, but it was shaded and cool. For several minutes, only cracking branches and rustling leaves pierced the silence.
"Where are you going?"
"I dunno. Just walking around. Enjoying nature."
Cade didn't think swatting insects and protecting his eyes from pointy, wayward branches was enjoyable, but whatever.
When Tristan froze, Cade was momentarily mesmerized by the sight of him bathed in a ray of sun, his face turned up, and his mouth slightly open.
He was beautiful.
"Ah, I thought I heard something," Tristan said, snapping him back to reality.
"Huh?"
"It's a squirrel, a big one. See him there?"
Cade squinted and, sure enough, saw a large squirrel staring back at them.
"Don't worry, he's not rabid," Tristan joked with a smirk. "I mean, it's possible, but unlikely."
"Ha ha," he responded sarcastically.
Tristan laughed, apparently finding himself amusing, and Cade vowed not to fall under his spell, especially when he was the butt of the jokes.
As they walked, Tristan explored further, studying the ground, the trees, the moss. He pointed out birds, insects, chipmunks and rabbits. Cade wasn't fond of bugs, but he could deal with tiny, striped rodents and bunnies. They were cute and furry and not rabid.
Wait, were they?
As Cade assessed the chances of dying from rabies, Tristan stopped in a clearing and scanned the area, gasping softly.
"What?"
Tristan moved forward carefully. "It's a small copper butterfly. It's pretty rare to see them; they're an at-risk species." Cade crept up behind him and examined the creature. It just looked like any other butterfly to him.
"How do you know what kind it is?"
"We learned all the names, Natalie and I, from this big book my mom had. I remember when Natalie was too young to read, she would point to the pictures and ask me to tell her what kind it was. My mom loved butterflies, was obsessed with them," Tristan answered, not taking his eyes off the dancing insect.
He smiled as he spoke, though Cade wasn't sure if it was because of the beauty of the memory or the butterfly.
"She doesn't love them anymore?" he ventured.
"She died. Two years ago, from cancer," Tristan said as his smile slipped from his face.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I like talking about her, most times, as long as it's the happy stuff."
Cade nodded but didn't respond. He had no happy memories of his mom, so he couldn't sympathize. Then he remembered something from the day before.
"Is that what you meant when you said your sister's all you have? That it's just you two?"
