“Only since I got her.”
“Wait, you got herafterhe moved in?”
“Two years ago, maybe?” I say. “Her mother was a stray who wandered into my friend Silas’s cabin, took the place over, and had kittens. Silas still has the mom.”
“So, you’ve made a habit of adopting strays,” she says, and I sigh because no, I have not.
“One stray,” I say, the trail in front of us narrowing. Andi goes in front so she can set the pace. “Reid is not astray, and the other two are wild animals. Which I keep telling everyone.”
“And Silas, and Javier, and Wyatt,” she says, sliding a look back over her shoulder. “That’s your freemason blood moon virgin sacrifice secret society, right?”
“It’s none of those things,” I say, even though my stomach gave a little lurch atvirgin. I haven’t been perfectly honest with Andi, and it’s another thing we’re hiking toward that I’ll have to face at the bottom of the mountain. “And if anyone adopted strays, it was Silas.”
That gets a laugh out of her, at last, crystal clear and bright. I want to take her hand, stop her, kiss her here while it’s still just us. I want her to tell me that nothing I’ve just said matters.
I want to turn around and go back and keep the long tendrils of reality from wrapping themselves around us, but I know it’s a futile thing to want. Instead, we keep hiking, and I watch the swish of her braid on her back, and I wish for things I probably won’t get.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
ANDI
When we finally get tothe Hogswallow trailhead parking, my feet hurt, my shoulders hurt, I have half a headache, my legs feel boneless, and the only car in the parking lot is a light blue Prius that doesn’t look like it’s a Forest Service vehicle.
I realize that I’ve got no clue who was supposed to come and pick us up. I figured Gideon would take care of it, and then didn’t give it one more single thought, just… let him be the responsible one.
“Someone’s coming, right?” I ask, going fornonchalantas Gideon swings the pack from his back and stretches his arms over his head.
“They said by five,” Gideon says, unconcerned. “We’ve still got a few—oh, wait,” he says as the driver’s door to the Prius opens. A tall man in dark pants and a dark jacket gets out, and it’d be kind of ominous if he weren’t grinning in the deep blue twilight.
“The hell?” Gideon asks, and the other man shrugs.
“Really, that’s the greeting you give your rescuer?” he says. “You spend two long weeks battling the elements—"
“We were in a cabin.”
“—fighting for your lives—”
“It had a refrigerator!”
“And when I brave the long, dark journey to come get you—”
“Jesus,” Gideon mutters.
“That’s my thanks?”
I’m trying to figure out if this is one of his brothers—maybe Zach or Jacob, one of the ones in the middle, though he doesn’t look younger than Gideon—when Gideon sighs, thoroughly rolls his eyes, and then steps forward to give the other man an enormous bear hug.
“Thank you for rescuing us,” he grumbles. “And for being such an asshole about it.”
“Just glad you’re back,” the other man says. Gideon pulls away, glances over at me, and waves a polite hand in my direction.
“So, Andi, this is Silas,” he says. “Silas, this is, uh, Andrea Sullivan.”
“Delightedto make your acquaintance,” Silas says as we shake hands, and from the look on his face, he really is.
“You text a lot,” is the charming thing I manage to say after a full day of strenuous hiking.
“You chain yourself to trees,” Silas says, that grin still on his face, and I snort because he has a point.
