“Even though I brought my whole house and my fancy coffee?”
“You’reprepared,” I fire back.
“And my shoes?”
I have to laugh. “Okay, your shoes are not ideal. But you haven’t complained once about your feet hurting—or anything else, now that I think about it. And Iknowthey’ve got to be hurting.”
“They’re absolutelykillingme,” she admits with a groan. “I’mmiserable! I’m itchy, I’m sore. I’m a total mess—and my shoes are sobrownnow.” Her hair falls like a curtain between us, and she tucks it behind her ear as she turns toward me. “Thank you, though. Really. All of that, coming from you?” She swallows. “It means a lot.”
Her eyes lock on mine.
I can’t look away.
I want to kiss her.ShouldI kiss her? We’re close enough that it wouldn’t take much. The slightest tilt of my head would put me halfway there, and if I’m reading things right, I think she’d meet me the rest of the way.
It’s been so long since I’ve kissed anyone. And I’ve definitely never kissed a trekker—never wanted to, never got this close to begin with.
But the rules!my mind unhelpfully reminds me.
Sadie makes me want to break every rule.
I bite my lip until it stings, think of taking a cold dip into the lake: the restraint of it all tests the limits of my willpower, and I’m barely holding it together. The temptation is absolutely still there—there’s a sizable part of me that wants to go for it, despite it being averybad idea.
I’m on the verge of losing the battle when a loud splash shatters the moment. It’s a relief in some ways, but in the end, only makes things harder: Sadie grabs my arm on instinct, so startled she practically lands in my lap.
“Whatwasthat?” she says breathlessly.
I scan the water and point at the culprit when I spot him: the great blue heron from before is now standing in the lake only ten feet away from us, still as a statue, as if he couldn’t possibly have caused such a disruption.
“Lake monster,” I deadpan.
She rests her head on my shoulder, playing along. “Keep me safe?”
“Yeah,” I say as I wrap my arm around her, pulling her in tight. “That’s my job.”
We sit like this for a little while longer, neither of us daring to move. The heron doesn’t move, either. If not for the shifting stars overhead, I’d believe it if someone told me time had just…stopped.
“Thorn?” she says sleepily.
“Hmm?”
“You’re good at your job.”
Her words are quiet, barely more than a whisper, but they echo in my head.
Even once we’re back in our tents for the night, I can’t stop hearing her voice: what she said, how she said it. How I’m not sure I believe her—I’m not sure what we did tonight isgood leader behavior—but I desperately want to.
I am so far in over my head. I’ll keep her safe, like I said.
But who will do the same for me?
CAPTAIN’S LOG // AUGUST THORN
Day 3 • So late I don’t even want to look at my watch • Waning Crescent Moon
Can’t sleep, can’t focus, can’t hardly see because I’m writing this without a flashlight, so this will be short. Forgot to skip a rock for Dad today, for the first time ever—not sure what to make of that except there’s been a lot going on. Caught zero fish, to no one’s surprise. Things are so tense with Matteo he didn’t even give me a hard time about it. Sadie somehow caught half a dozen…pretty impressive. Best day I’ve had at Mackenzie Lake in a long time. Hoping I fall asleep sometime before the sunrise yoga session I stupidly agreed to.
DAY FOUR
