Page 49 of Silent Shadows

One by one, people start peeling away.

Taylor first, dramatically exhausted.

Then Maya after triple-checking the week’s route schedule. Making sure everyone remembers tomorrow is a work catch-up day.

Then Jax, who disappears inside, muttering about drone batteries.

Until it’s just Daisy and me. And s’mores.

“Want one?” I ask, holding a bag of marshmallows up.

“Please slap me if I ever say no to a s’more.” Daisy deadpans as she stands to make one. After she lights hers on fire on purpose, we settle back on the log to eat.

The desert stretches dark and endless beyond the glow of camp. As the fire pops softly, Daisy takes a massive bite of her charred mess. I can't help but stare as her head falls back, eyes closed, and she lets out a soft, appreciative moan. The sound lands somewhere south of my better judgment, waking up a part of me that's been dormant for, well, a while. Let's just say my dating pool has historically been… niche. Not only because of my nomadic lifestyle, but because I have the emotional availability of a trail map.

The map's detailed. Reliable. Helpful, even. But according to my last ex who did long-distance with me for just over a year, it doesn't exactly scream husband material. Yet another reason I shouldn’t be staring at Daisy, even if the gooey marshmallow is stuck on her full, pink lips.

She tears off another bite anyway, making another satisfied little noise. I immediately become fascinated by the fire.

Fantastic. Years of hiking through mountain lion country without my pulse ever breaking eighty, and one sarcastic podcaster eating a s’more has my pulse skyrocketing as I try not to fantasize about what she’d taste like if I kissed her right now.

Nature really does have a sense of humor.

When she’s done, Daisy pulls the blanket around her, staring into the flames. “Okay.”

I glance over. “Okay?”

“That sound today.”

Ah. There it is.

I lean back. “Yeah.”

“You guys really couldn’t explain it?”

“No.”

She looks at me with curiosity. “Does that happen often?”

I shake my head. “No, you’re lucky. It happens less than you’d think.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

I consider the question.

“It bothers me if we can’t explain something, but pretend we can,” I say finally. “That’s where people lose credibility.”

She tilts her head a bit. “So you don’t just blindly believe every weird thing?”

I laugh. “God, no.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

She presses her lips together, as if considering whether to proceed. “I think I expected more… conspiracy energy. Finding Bigfoot. Hicks in the woods running after the wind.”

“I believe in evidence.”