She yanks herself away. “Sorry,” she says with a wrinkle of her freckled nose. “I get a little too”—she pulls a face, sticking out her tongue and doing some kind of jazz hands—“when I’m excited about something.” Pink washes over her cheeks. She’s still close enough that I can feel her warmth at my side.
I swallow. I can’t handle this proximity. It’s painful, but I force myself to pull away. “Uh, it’s fine.” I’m losing my ability to speak again. She does that to me sometimes, and it’s not good. “It’s okay.”
It’s okay?!It’s so much more than okay. It’s everything.
Come on, Adam. Be yourself.I gulp again, trying to form a word. Any word.
“Whatcha got there?” she asks, pointing at the grass between us.
My brow furrows in confusion, and I look down at the forgotten daisies I strung together a hundred hours ago—before the rabbits and before that world-changing hug. I can’t seem to summon any words, but the sudden memory of a message she sent from my phone gives me an idea. With a half smile, I weave the ends of the chain together and carefully settle the daisy crown on her ginger hair.
“Queen of the Forest,”I murmur, holding back a smile.
Stevie’s grin is wide as she holds the flowers in place. Then her eyes narrow. “I’ll allow it ... peasant.”
“Ruth,” I practically holler in the cab of my truck on the drive home from the preserve. “I gotta big problem.”
“Adam?” There’s a toddler screeching on her end, and I realize I’ve caught her at a bad time. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll call you later.” Now I feel dumb. Did I seriously get right on the phone with my sister to talk about Stevie like some kind of teenager? “Go take care of Sammie. I’m good.”
“Adam Sandoval.” She’s using her Mom Voice on me now, and she sounds like our mother. “Out with it.”
My niece’s crying gives way to whimpering, and I feel less ridiculous now. And I need Ruth’s input. In as few words as possible, I describe my day with Stevie from this morning’s hike to the text exchange—which Ruth makes me screenshot and send to her—to the hug tonight and our awkward goodbye in the parking area. My sister screeches, yells at me, and makes a general disruption the entire time.
I throw my truck into park in front of my cabin and make my way up the wood steps as I wrap up the story. “So? What do I do about this?” I ask with a heavy exhale.
“About what?” Ruth asks, her voice full of laughter. “It seems like you know what you’re doing. Did you really make a daisy crown for her? Gah. Dead. I amdead.” She yells away from the phone, “Davis, how come you’ve never made a daisy crown for me?”
My brother-in-law mumbles something I can’t make out, and Ruth laughs.
“I’m not joking, Ruth.” I bypass my front door, heading straight for the hammock on my wide front porch. “What do I do about Stevie?”
Her only response is to sigh the way I’ve only heard her sigh when she watchesTangledwith my niece. My sister loves love. Except this isn’t love. This is me losing my mind over a woman who has already lost her mind, a fact that only came to me as I watched her drive away.
“I can’t feel this way about a woman who ... you know.” I can’t say it.
“Believes in Bigfoot?” Ruth finishes my sentence.
Yes. That. I sigh, sinking onto my hammock while my sister coos at her daughter.
“Did she really send you a screenshot of your texts?” Ruth snickers.
I throw my arm over my eyes. “You’ve seen them.”
“She has to be mortified. I would be.”
“I never thought I’d be the subject of a group text to determine the status of a relationship,” I mutter.
“Oh, my sweet, naive brother,” Ruth chides. “I assure you, you’ve been the subject of many, many group texts among women.”
“Yeah, okay.” I roll my eyes. “I think I’d know if I was.”
“You don’t. That’s exactly it.” Her pitying tone has me itching to push the red button to end the call. “You’re completely clueless when it comes to women, Adam. You don’t know howyou affect them, or that you’re a giant catch. It’s adorable, but it’s a huge problem.”
“This is weird, Ruth.” I fidget, readjusting the phone against my ear. “I don’t want to talk about this with my sister.”
“Someone has to talk to you about it.” I can’t see it, but I know she just stomped a foot on the floor. “I want nieces and nephews.”
