“You’re commending me for shilling out fake weapons to fight fake monsters?”
“After these past couple of days, I believe you think this is all real.” She’d spent the night setting up cameras and going over protocols. Her team’s equipment was extensive; boxes and boxes of things I couldn’t even begin to put names to. A gag didn’t warrant this much commitment. Especially when they hadn’t even filmed a video for their socials once since they’d been here.
“And those attendees at the event sure as hell believe. So, yes, it’s commendable that you want to help them. Not everyone’s willing to decenter themselves and fight someone else’s demons.”
The compliment didn’t land as I thought it might. Rae tugged her gaze away from me, directing it to the fields that stretched back toward Elmwood.
Kat had her fill of grazing and started forward,ready to resume the lead. The horses’ hooves clicked on the dirt road, the only noise between us in the silence.
I replayed my words again, trying to pinpoint exactly what I had said wrong. This type of thing used to happen often while growing up. I’d say something to a bunch of kids. They’d stare at me in silence before either laughing and turning away or grimacing and turning away. And I’d swear up and down words didn’t work the same for me like they did for others. Some people could say complete nonsense that’d somehow earn them praise. I was in the camp of saying something mundane and earning scorn.
Times like these, I folded inward. Batten down my hatches. But before I could commit, I perked up at the sight of a tree right off the edge of the road.
“Let’s stop here really quick.” I got off Frog and started toward the tree.
Rae followed suit, hesitating for a second to ask, “Should I tie her to a post or something?”
“No, she won’t wander. Neither of them will go far.”
“And cars?” Rae looked behind and in front of us. The long gravel road stretched for miles, home to nothing but emptiness.
“We’re the most action this road’s going to get today.” The grass I stepped in was almost long enough to swallow my knees. “Do you like peaches?”
Rae’s eyes widened at the peach tree I stood under. She closed the distance between us, tilting her head up to marvel at the plump, fresh fruit. We both took a deep inhale, filling our lungs with the sweet scent.
“Wilson makes a life-altering peach cobbler.” I dug in my back pocket for a cloth grocery bag. “With you all here, he’ll make it without me having to bargain.”
Rae helped me pick the best ones. I laughed anytimeshe released a gasp and murmured about how bright and big they were.
“Taste one.” I nodded when she studied the peach I offered.
“Is it…like free of worms and stuff?”
I shrugged, used the bottom of my shirt to wipe it off, and then took a bite. The juice tickled down my chin, warm and sticky. Rae’s gaze tracked the movement when I wiped my chin with the back of my hand.
“It won’t kill you.” I offered her the peach again. “If it does, I’ll go first, and maybe your team will find my ghost and have enough time to figure out how to save you.”
Rae snorted but took a bite. I’d expected her to taste the other side, but she went right for the spot I bit off. She closed her eyes as she chewed.
“Not to be dramatic, but I think this is the fruit they had in the Garden of Eden.” Rae’s lips were glossy with juice. She took her time licking it off.
Our fingers brushed as I reached for the peach again. I held my breath, counting to five before releasing it because that helped whenever my heart pounded a mile a minute. Here was this woman who could command a room with a simple half-smile. And here I was, barely able to spend more than a few minutes in someone’s presence without them losing interest.
Except that hadn’t been true with her. Even now, Rae watched as I bit, studying my movements as if her survival depended on it.
“Just when I figured there wasn’t much to enjoy about being in a small town,” she mused, still watching my mouth. “Fresh fruit. Peace and quiet. Perfect breezes. It’s…reviving.”
I smiled. “That’s exactly what Alpine did for me when I first visited as a kid.”
“Right, you’ve been here before. You ending up here is destiny, you think? Or do you not believe in that either?” she teased.
“I don’t believe in it,” I confirmed and handed over our peach. “I do believe in obsessive romanticism. I’ve always wanted to know where roads ended. Always wanted to have a home at the end of one.”
I loved that when I crossed the threshold of my house, it smelled like Wilson and me. No new carpet, fresh paint, or linoleum. Our house was full of apple spice, pine, and leather. Use had softened everything. It was all indisputably ours.
“How about you?” I asked. “Do you like the RV? Not knowing where you’ll end up next?”
She laughed softly, opting to study the tree instead of meeting my gaze. “It’s in my blood.”
