“There’s a storm coming,” I said.
Hawk looked up at the milky sky and the very evident, impossible-to-miss clouds that had gathered on the horizon. “Yep. Sure seems that way. And you… decided to hike in it?”
I moved closer, weighing the pros and cons of touching him just atinybit—just enough to assure myself he was alive and well and this was not, say, the beginning of a strangely conversation-heavy wet dream. Then again, touching him wasexactlywhat dream-me would do, so that wouldn’t clarify anything.
I fisted my hands at my sides and focused on pressing my nails into my palms. “I came to help you pack up. There’s still plenty of time to get back down the mountain before… anything happens.”
I wasn’t sure, at that moment, which terrible outcome I was trying to avoid—the one where lightning struck and burned oneof us to a crisp… or the one where I let myself have him, andbothof us got burned.
“Oh.” Hawk’s confusion cleared, and he raised his chin. “You should probably go, then. I’m staying.”
How was it possible for him to surprise me when he said exactly what I expected him to say?
Or maybe what surprised me was how straight and strong he stood, how confident he looked, as he said it. His eyes, which had been storm-tossed and emotionally ravaged for weeks, now glowed with certainty and determination. His lean muscles flexed as he folded his arms over his chest defiantly, and the movement made light glint off the scruff on his jaw. He looked every inch like a man who knew what he wanted… and that knowledge made my stomach flip and my cock stir.
For maybe the first time between us,Iwas the unsure one of the two of us. The one with questions and no answers. The one who was drowning in a churning sea ofwantand sinking for the third time. The one whose patience was coiled together with his longing and annoyance…
The one who lashed out.
“That’s beyond foolish. What would your father say?” I demanded.
The hurtful words landed on the hard, damp ground between us in an ugly lump. Tension crackled in the air, more potent than the coming lightning. But instead of responding, Hawk sighed, and his shoulders slumped. Then he turned and disappeared up the trail to his campsite.
I had a moment to realize that his easy capitulation didn’t feel much like a victory. Then, heart pounding with a combination of excitement and dread that nearly made me light-headed, I followed him.
When we arrived at his campsite, I saw only a single canvas tote bag and a stuff sack with his sleeping bag in it.
“This is all you have?” I demanded, turning in a circle like I expected other provisions to suddenly appear. “Where’s your backpack? Your tent? Your protest signs?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but they’re already in the cave.” He grabbed the remaining items and shouldered past me back to the trail.
I blew out a breath of relief and followed him back down the trail, over the quaint little footbridge that crossed the thickest part of Glassy Creek, mentally calculating the distance back to the parking area?—
A second later, my brain finished processing his words. “Wait. What cave?”
“I’ve shown you the caves on the north side of the mountain before.”
“Well, yes, but…” I jogged to catch up to him.
“I moved my stuff there to ride out the storm. And, since you asked, my father would say job well done sincehe’sthe one who taught me all the trails on this mountain and how to seek shelter during a storm. The cave I chose doesn’t have water issues or other hazards near the entrance, which would be the only reasons to avoid it.”
“The only reason? How about comfort and safety? You can’t tell me that this cave on a mountain is safer than your house. Hawk? Hawk!”
Hawk ignored me, and I followed him a quarter mile in moody silence to the familiar wide entrance of Kirkcaster. It was the largest cave in the Glassy system and a favorite with tourists because of its solid appearance and interesting history.
I let out a breath. At least he’d selected one with multiple entrances. It was large enough to stand up comfortably in and even large enough to fit the tent and all of his other supplies.
“You may go now,” he said once we’d escaped the increasing drizzle and entered the cave. “Might as well get back to theparking area before you wind up drenched.” He turned his back to me and busied himself unrolling his sleeping bag and setting up his battery-operated lantern.
I scowled, though he couldn’t see me. “I’m not leaving.”
Hawk didn’t turn, but I saw his back stiffen. “Don’t stay on my account. I’d hate for you to be in a situation where you don’t feel perfectlysafeandcomfortable.” He plumped his pillow before setting it inside the tent and said mockingly, “Save yourself, Jack.”
My shoulders fell on a frustrated exhale. “Fine. Point taken. For the record, I still think it’s bullshit to stage a protest by camping in the woods like you’re some kind of modern-day Thoreau. And I’m talking ‘Mr. Bennet-allowing-Lydia-to-trot-off-to-Brighton-with-the-soldiers’-level bullshit. You know just how much I hate that part, right? But I’m not leaving you to be stupid alone.”
Hawk turned to face me, and for just a split second, his face softened, recognizing the echo of our recent fight. Then he turned back to the tent.
I reached for his backpack to pull out his camp stove and other cooking supplies. Getting a hot drink into both of us would help us stay warm since we couldn’t build a fire inside the cave.
