And with that, she kept walking, giving me space and permission in the same breath.
And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to try.
Trynotto disappear.
Try to let someone in.
Try to believe that whatever this thing was between us, it didn’t have to end when I got in my car in a week.
I just had to stop running from what felt good.
And right now?
Fifi felt like the one thing I didn’t want to run from.
By the time we made it back to the clearing where Clarabelle waited, the sun had shifted into that lazy, late-afternoon glow. The sky was golden and warm, like the world itself had exhaled.
We were both sweaty, windblown, and pleasantly exhausted. I could still feel the imprint of her hand from when she’dsqueezed mine on the trail, quick, soft, gone too fast, but it lingered in a way that made everything under my skin hum.
Fifi climbed into the driver’s seat and shot me a smug little look over her shoulder. “Ready to head back, Florida?”
I tossed my backpack in the bed of the truck and slid into the passenger side. “You’re the boss.”
“Music to my ears.” She turned the key.
Clarabelle coughed.
Then wheezed.
Then nothing.
She turned the key again.
A click. Then silence.
She paused, blinked, and tried a third time. I watched her confidence fade like air leaking from a tire.
Clarabelle gave one final sputter of defiance, then died completely.
It wouldn’t turn over.
“No, no, no,” Fifi muttered, cranking the key again. “Don’t you dare.”
I glanced at her. “Is this one of those she-always-does-this moments?”
“She’sneverdone this.”
We both sat there for a second, the silence inside the truck stretching long enough to hear the breeze through the pines.
“Let me take a look.”
We got out, and I lifted the hood while Fifi stood to the side, arms crossed, clearly trying not to look as panicked as she probably felt.
“Maybe it’s something funky with the battery.”
“She just got a new one. It shouldn’t be that.”
I leaned over the engine and stared at it like it might whisper its secrets to me.
