Now I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing anymore.
“So…there’s that hiking trail I’ve been meaning to try out. Did you see they actually made a bridge to the island in the middle of the lake? Looks pretty cool,” Margot says. “Faith, you up for that?”
“Yeah. Yeah, for sure.”
* * *
We head toward the trail,the late afternoon sun bleeding gold through the trees.
Margot and Daphne walk a few paces behind, laughing about some story I’m barely hearing. My heart’s pounding too loud to catch the details.
Hunter walks beside me, close but not touching. His arms swing casually at his sides like he hasn’t said something that’s been ricocheting around my chest since I overheard it.
It’s just a casual summer fling. So I guess that’s what it is.
God, it burns. I feel tricked.
When we reach the bridge, it’s prettier than I expected—slatted wood, simple rails, a gentle arch that leads over glittering water to a patch of green in the middle of the lake. It should feel romantic.
Instead, it feels like walking into a trap.
“Faith,” Hunter says, as we step onto the island’s soft trail. He slows. “You’ve been quiet.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Totally. This is what I wanted, right? Something casual?” I give a short, bitter laugh. “You’re just honoring my wishes.”
He stops walking. “Okay, what’s going on?”
I cross my arms. “You said that to your mom.”
“What?”
“That it was just a casual fling. That’s what this is to you?”
Hunter’s jaw tightens. “I said that because I didn’t know you were behind me. And maybe I was trying to protect myself a little too.”
“From what?” I snap. “From actually feeling something real?”
He steps forward, heat in his eyes. “You’re the one who said no strings, Faith.”
“Because I didn’t know if I could trust you! And then I start to. I let myself—just a little—and I hearthat.”
His hands drop to his sides. “So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind? You tell me one thing but want another—how am I supposed to keep up?”
“Maybe you’re not supposed to,” I bite, my voice wobbling. “Maybe this was a mistake.”
He flinches like I slapped him.
Silence pulses between us. Only the rustling of leaves, the soft lap of the lake on the shore.
Then he says, low and rough, “If it was a mistake, it’s the best damn one I’ve ever made.”
That almost breaks me.
But I shake my head. “I need to think.”
