It’s just a hike. Just a couple hours in the woods. Not a forever thing.
And yet, I know better than anyone that Isla doesn’t separate things out like that. She doesn’t draw lines betweennowandalways.
Damn it.
It’s selfish, but right now, with Isla practically vibrating beside me, her small hand tugging at mine and her face lit up, it feels like one of those rare moments when life isn’t taking something away from me. It’s offering something, and for once…I don’t want to be the guy who walks away from that.
“All right,” I sigh. “I’ll ask Nana for her number. But,” I lift a finger, “no promises. Lucy might have plans today.”
Isla nods vigorously. “She won’t. I know she won’t.”
Her confidence is blinding. The way she believes in people so easily guts me. Sometimes I look at her and wonder how on earth she still sees the world as a place that gives. A place where people stay.
I fish my phone from my pocket, thumbing throughthe contacts until I find Mum. The phone rings three times before she picks up.
“Aidan? Is everything all right?”
“Fine, Mum,” I say, watching Isla dash up the stairs, presumably to pick out her hiking clothes. “Listen, do you have Lucy’s number? From the café?”
There’s a pause on the other end, and I can practically hear the smile spreading across her face. “Sweet Lucy MacKenzie? Why, yes, I do. We were just talking about flower arrangements for the spring festival last week.” I catch the knowing lilt in her voice, and I silently curse myself.
“It’s nothing like that,” I mutter. “Isla wants to invite her hiking with us today.”
“Oh?” The single syllable carries a weight of questions I’m not ready to answer. “Well, isn’t that lovely. Just a moment, let me find it.”
Papers shuffle on the other end, and then Mum’s back, rattling off a number that I quickly jot down on the back of an old receipt.
“Thanks,” I say, eager to end the conversation before she can start in with the questions I just know are hovering on the tip of her tongue.
“Aidan.” Her voice softens. “It’s good to see you reaching out. Both of you.”
I grunt noncommittally, not sure what to say to that. “Talk to you later, Mum.”
I hang up and stare at the numbers. This feels like crossing some invisible line where I’m about to invite trouble into our carefully balanced world. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that the thought of Lucy’s smile makes my chest ache in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant.
I dial before I can talk myself out of it.
The phone rings once. Twice. Three times.
My thumb hovers over theend callbutton. This was a bad idea. She’s probably still asleep, or busy. I should hang up. Iwillhang up. Then?—
“Hello?”
Her voice. Soft, familiar, a little sleepy, but not annoyed. I freeze for a second, caught off guard by how much relief floods through me.
“Lucy. It’s Aidan.” I pause, swallowing down the sudden sandpaper in my throat. “Did I wake you?”
“Aidan? No, not at all. Is everything okay?”
What is it with everyone assuming something must be wrong?
I clear my throat. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I, uh?—”
Jesus. I sound like I’m fifteen again and calling some girl’s landline to ask her to the school dance.
I scratch the back of my neck, eyes fixed on the far side of the room like it’s going to give me a better line. “Isla and I are heading up the ridge trail today. She, uh… She asked if you’d want to come with us.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then another, and that’s when the doubt kicks in. I should’ve just texted. Or probably kept my damn mouth shut and never called in the first place.
