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It’s not even hot, the cool ocean breeze having drifted inward, weaving its way in through the trees, cooling my heated skin.
But it’s not enough to beat the exertion of the trail, especially at the pace we’re taking it.
Trey is a good running partner. He’s not as fast as me, nor in as good of shape—but then again, he’s not a professional athlete. Still, he’s dogged, determined to make it to the top of the trail even though I know he’s got to be feeling it intensely, has to be even more tired than I am.
“We’re almost there,” I manage to get out…and make it sound as though it’s vaguely encouraging (and not like I’m ready to throw myself off the steep decline to the left, if only to put myself out of the misery of this near vertical trail).
“Yup,” he puffs out, distance between us increasing.
But if I stop to wait for him, I’ll stop altogether.
And…we’re almost there.
Really.
I turn the corner?—
And I’m there.
My feet slide to a stop, and I can’t help but stop this time.
Because the sight in front of me is awe-inspiring. Rolling hills dotted with large old-growth oak trees. I turn—chest still heaving, sweat still running down my back, between my breasts—and I see that view is surrounding me on all sides, a full three-hundred-sixty-degree panorama of nature. Not a house or power line in sight. No roads are visible—except if I maybe squint and study the far edges of my vision, I can see the narrow track that leads into this preserve.
A foot scrapes behind me, and—lungs beginning to recover—I rotate back to see Trey stagger around the corner.
“Sweet Jesus,” he puffs, moving toward me. “That was hell—” A long breath before he turns out toward the view and exhales again, clearly trying to slow his heart rate. “And totally fucking worth it.” He swipes his arm over his forehead. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” I say, taking pity on my quads and sinking down onto the rock that gives the Redwood Rock trail its name.
Trey sinks down next to me, groaning as he stretches his legs out in front of him. “Brutal but beautiful.” He slants a look at me. “Kind of like you when you stone those motherfuckers on a breakaway.”
I grin. “First time I’ve ever considered being called brutal a compliment.”
He winks and there’s a resounding flicker in my stomach. The possibility of something. That something might be here. That something might grow. It feels…bittersweet, but I’m choosing to focus on the sweet.
Because I have to.
Because if I don’t…
I just can’t keep focusing on the bitter.
We sit there in silence until we’ve both recovered from the climb enough to start talking about other things—his daughter and his divorce, Stefan and I trying to find our way to something neutral, the team, his job as a corporate accountant, what my travel schedule looks like over the next few weeks.
And then a leaf flutters out of the tree above us, toppling through the air this way and that until…
It lands in my hair.
I laugh softly, reach up to snag it.
But Trey beats me to it. “Here,” he murmurs, tugging it free.
I still, suddenly aware of how near he is…and how it makes me feel.
Right and wrong.
Strange and not.
He smooths his hand over my hair, straightening the—no doubt—crazy tendrils, and…I can’t help it.
