“You’ve never asked her?”
I shrug.
“Ugh.” Ruth swats at my sock-covered foot. “Communication, Adam. You’ve grown by leaps and bounds in the last few weeks, but there’s still room for improvement.”
She’s right. I should ask Stevie why she’s so fixated on this bet, but I know why I haven’t. I’m afraid. As much as I’ve grown to respect and love Stevie, I worry that she ...
Oh, man. I can’t even think about it without shying away. This is a problem.
I suck in a deep breath, tightening my jaw. I’ve got this.
I fear that Stevie might ...actually believe Bigfoot is out there. I exhale with awhoosh.
I repeat the thought:Stevie believes in Bigfoot.
Huh. The thought doesn’t bother me as much as it would have a few weeks ago. It isn’t that I’ve suddenly become a believer, but Stevie’s open mind must be softening me. Maybe I don’t know everything.
I sink deeper into my couch. Stevie and I talk around the topic of sasquatch these days. He’s become the giant, hairy ape-man in the room, but now that my girlfriend is in danger, I don’t care about any of that. I want her safe. That’s all I care about.
When my living room falls silent, a far-off, tinny voice catches my attention. My gaze snaps toward the sound.
Sammie is still holding my phone to her ear, nodding her head in an uncanny imitation of my sister while she babbles.
“Hello?” the distant male voice calls. “Adam?”
It’s coming from my phone. Someone is on the line. But by the time I wrestle it out of Sammie’s sticky death grip, the call has just ended. The name on the screen makes my stomach lurch.
This isn’t good.
Ike Wentworth, town manager and chairman of the Ridiculous Committee to Determine the Outcome of Bigfoot Versus Boyfriend, just had a two minute and eighteen second phone call with my niece.
Ruth sits up. “Was someone on the phone?”
I drop my phone on the couch. “Ike Wentworth,” I mutter, dragging my hand through my hair.
Her forehead scrunches in confusion. “Who?”
“Stevie’s friend.” Maybe he’s my friend, too. Or he was, before I secretly dated Stevie while serving on this boneheaded committee. I might’ve ruined everything for Stevie and lost a new friend in a single two-minute phone call.
Chapter 32
Stevie
It’s fully dark now, and the rain hasn’t relented. My eyes have adjusted to the dim light enough that I know we’re still in Maine. I’m drenched and covered in mud up to my knees. I stop to wring out my shirt.
“Do you want to take a turn with the poncho?” Crispin asks again.
Taking turns with a poncho is idiotic. We’ll both end up soaked. I didn’t think to bring an emergency poncho on what was supposed to be a short hike. That’s on me. None of this was on the forecast, though, and we weren’t supposed to get lost. I can’t wait to read the one-star review Crispin leaves on Yelp after this. I just know this guy loves to write a scathing review.
“Nope,” I call over the pounding rain. “I’m good.” I swipe my dripping hair off my face.
We hike for a while longer, with no sense of which direction we’re moving or any cell service, when a loud, repeating scream echoes through the trees. I stop in my muddy tracks.
Crispin stops at my side. “What was that?” he hisses.
“Shhh!” I wrangle my phone out of my back pocket, swiping to open my camera app. My battery is almost dead. My heartthumps, making my hands shake while I shield my phone from the rain and press record. Then I wait.
Another series of whoops booms through the dark forest, and I want to laugh. Of course this is happening now, when my phone is nearly kaput and the only person here to enjoy it with me is Crispin. I wish Adam were here. I double-check that my camera is rolling. It is.
