I hold back a growl as I lead Stevie deeper into the trees. This is not a date. I don’t know what this is. I wanted to spend time with her, so I invited her. If this had been a date, I would’ve picked her up at her house. I would’ve dressed up and taken her somewhere nice ... with people. I shudder. The best I could do tonight was leaving my ghillie suit at home.
Stevie grew quiet after she asked about the trail cameras, seeming to sense that we need to respect the rabbits’ turf without me having to tell her. She knows how to blend into the woods, despite her fiery hair and pink cheeks. We’ve reached the spot where I usually sit and observe. The understory at the edge of the woods is thick with summer growth—vines, wildflowers, bushes, and grass. It’s perfect for blending in.
“This is where I’ve been watching for them,” I whisper, gesturing to the ground.
Stevie nods, lowering herself to the grass and folding her legs. After seeing her walk barefoot through the mud this morning, I shouldn’t be surprised that she would jump right in. She’s certainly in her element. The sun is setting through the trees at our backs, making her red hair glow and warming her freckled cheeks. She’s ethereal, but I shouldn’t stare at her, right?
No, probably not.
I avert my gaze, sitting on the ground beside her.
“What do we do?” she says under her breath.
“We wait.” I still can’t look at her, and my whisper is barely audible. “We let everything forget we’re here. You’ll see.”
I hope she’ll see, anyway. I haven’t found them, but I’ve seen hints of rabbit burrows nearby. I’d love to get some photos tonight. I haven’t managed to do that yet.
Quiet surrounds us, and Stevie plucks a few tall blades of grass, braiding them together while we wait. I’m mesmerized, watching her petite fingers turn the grass into a bracelet, which she knots around her wrist.
It reminds me of something I learned to do for Ruth when she was a kid. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how I look at it, this grassy area is interspersed with invasive oxeye daisies. I pinch a few flowers at the base of their stems one by one, gently and quietly—hopefully without Stevie noticing.
Ruth was a task master in her young age, so I have lots of practice at this. My fingers move solely from muscle memory, and I keep an eye on the brush around us while I work. Enough time passes that I’m nearly finished with my little project when there’s a soft rustle in the bushes close by.
I drop the flowers. Slowly, I work my phone free, gesturing toward the sound. Stevie’s eyebrows pull together, and she follows my line of sight.
The leaves shift again, and I hold my breath. I’d love some validation after all the effort I made last fall. I’ve been out here so many times, and Stevie and I have only been sitting here for twenty minutes or so. It would be a miracle if—
A fluffy brown kit emerges from a barely visible gap in the undergrowth, its brown eyes wide and alert.
Holy crap. The forest mascot has to be good luck. It’s the only reasonable explanation.
I sense Stevie’s mouth drop open in my peripheral vision. She looks at me with an expression that asksIs that what I think it is?
I nod.
Then another kit follows the first, and their voracious nibbling is audible even from this distance. I open my camera app, zooming in on the rabbits and taking silent bursts of photos. A third rabbit peeks out of the burrow—probably a doe, and likely the kits’ mother—and I want to whoop. She hops cautiously behind her babies, stopping to munch on grass as she goes.
Stevie and I watch the rabbits weave through the grass, and I take as many photos as I can before they’re out of sight.
When the grass and leaves go still behind them, I release a slow breath. My work paid off. That was so unbelievably validating.
Stevie turns to face me. Her brown eyes are wide. “Oh my gosh,” she mouths. The tortured look in her eyes tells me she wants to squeal with delight, and the fact that she can’t is killing her.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. “I got pictures, and they have a short memory.” The corner of my mouth hitches in a half smile. “Let it out.”
“We saw them!” she cheers, throwing her arms around my neck with a laugh. “That was amazing!”
Out of instinct, I curl my arms around Stevie’s back. “Wasn’t that great?” I ask with a chuckle against her hair, caught up in her contagious excitement. This isn’t what I expected her to do, but I’m not complaining.
Then, I’m aware of every soft inch of her pressed against me. Her hair tickles my nose, and it’s silky against the corner of my mouth. She breathes out, and I feel the warmth of it on the skin of my neck. Her body shifts, her cheek rests on my shoulder, and my world tilts. Everything is upside down—or maybe it’s rightside up for the first time in my life.
It’s like the needle on my compass has been spinning for thirty-four years, and it’s finally found north. Is Stevie my north? It shouldn’t be possible. I barely know her, but everything inside me wants to move toward her. Follow her. Get as close to her as possible.
Oh no.I sound obsessed. I can’t form a coherent thought. This is dangerous.
Then Stevie sighs against me again, and I freeze.
She has no idea what she’s doing to me.
