He stood a little apart from the others, talking with Chase. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He looked…fine. Normal. As if I hadn’t just confessed to him that I wished I’d never thrown his flowers away when we were kids. Or told him how easy he was to be with. As if he hadn’t just put my drunk ass to bed. Or looked at me like I was someone worth taking care of.
Maybe I’d read it wrong. Maybe none of that meant anything to him.
It probably didn’t. After all, the ramblings of a drunk girl were just that…ramblings.
I’d just pretend that I didn’t remember anything.
Easy.
Safe.
I sucked in a deep breath and braced myself as I grabbed my pack and joined the group.
When his gaze flicked up and landed on me, something in his expression tightened, but only for the flash of a second, before he smiled. “Morning. I wasn’t sure we were going to see you today.”
“Why not?” I worked to keep the smile on my face. “When I say I’ll do something, I do it.”
Was it my imagination, or did he flinch?
“I heard it was quite the party last night,” Tilley said, joining us with an enthusiastic grin and an ear keen to hear more gossip.
“Right, well…”
“We should get going then.” Preston saved me by taking charge of the situation, and that was the end of it.
There was no teasing. No joking. No acknowledgment of the fact that he’d taken care of me when I couldn’t even take care of myself.
The group started to move, boots crunching over gravel aswe headed into the trees. The trail we’d chosen for our second hike was slightly farther out of town, and although the access wouldn’t be compromised by the proposed development, the second phase of the project would end up encroaching on the space right up to the ridge, with the estate lots that were planned for larger homes.
Big lots.
Big views.
Big money.
No affordable housing on the ridge.
I watched Preston take the lead as the group stretched out along the trail, his stride steady and purposeful. He didn’t look back, and I was grateful for that more than I cared to admit.
It was better this way.
Last night was messy enough. I didn’t need any more uncomfortable conversations in the daylight. Especially when that daylight was burning holes through my retinas. Even with the dark sunglasses in place.
I adjusted my pack, focused on the trail, and put one foot in front of the other. The sound of the gravel and pine needles crunching under my steps helped ground me.
Last night didn’t need to mean anything.
People said things all the time when they were drunk. Emotional things and things they didn’t really mean.
At least I hadn’t cried.
All I had to do was pretend that that’s all it was. It didn’t have to be deeper than a night cutting loose with too much to drink.
As I followed the group farther into the trees, I doubled down on my decision.
I wouldn’t bring it up. I wouldn’t ask him about it.
And I certainly wouldn’t let myself wonder what he’d heard in my words. Because pretending not to remember felt a whole lot safer than the alternative.
