Page 102 of River & Rue

Choking on a swell of emotion, I grab the collar of my T-shirt and swipe it over my eyes.

Dan nudges my arm. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just some really good news from one of my sisters.”

“All right, campers!” Kirk’s voice is so loud it startles birds off several nearby trees. “Off your lazy keisters. Let’s get crackin’.”

He starts galloping around the clearing, swinging an imaginary whip, complete with obnoxious sound effects.

I sigh. “Have you noticed his Southern accent grow progressively thicker over the weeks? Fucker’s from Pennsylvania.”

Dan nods, chuckling. “I’m gonna miss him.”

“Him? Or his homegrown weed?”

He shrugs. “Both.”

Shaking my head in amusement, I push to my feet and fire off one last text to Ivy.

Losing service in a min. Love u. Thank u. I’ll never call you Thing #2 again

Once it shows as delivered, I put my phone in airplane mode and zip it into an outer pocket of my backpack.

“Next stop, enlightenment!” hollers Kirk. Lifting his walking stick into the air, he stomps toward the trail—in Birkenstocks, of course, because his toes can’t breathe in hiking boots.

“I think I’ll miss him too,” I admit.

Dan laughs. After adjusting the straps of his pack, he sets off toward the seven artists congregating at the trailhead. I can’t say I’m disappointed Larissa stayed behind with Penelope and Wyatt, but at this point, I’d trade Matteo for all three of them. He never shuts up, and his voice is even louder than Kirk’s.

Not in the mood to rush, I take my time eating the granola bar, drinking some water, and stretching my back in preparation. The chatter of the group fades as they disappear into the forest.

Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and listen to the sky.

I feel her storm before I hear her soft footsteps behind me. In my chest, fierce joy and hurt collide. Despite Ivy’s confirmation, despite my hope, my relief, my conviction, my heart is bruised from her words.

“Hey, weatherman. What’s the forecast?” Her light tone is a cracking patina above a heavy layer of nervousness.

My heart warms. Aches more.

As I turn toward her, I think about how strange and fitting it is that I didn’t recognize her for years, and now she can’t recognize me. How that inversion makes even stranger sense after Ivy’s description of our auras.

We’re made to dance together.

To balance each other.

Rue just needs time to accept that when she finally reaches for my hand, I’ll never let her go.

35

river

​. . .​

white flag

My smile is an arrow fletched with intent. It flies true, kindling a flush in Rue’s cheeks and a hitch in her breath that she tries to mask with a small cough.

“Hey, Princess. No rain today.”