The little girl grabbed her wet bear and hugged it tightly and the flustered mother whispered thank you before turning to her child and scolding her under a harsh whisper.
When Tristan straightened and our eyes met, his grin faltered.My pulse thudded in my ears, and for one ridiculous second, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to shake some sense into him or kiss him dizzy with relief that he hadn’t been hurt.
For a heartbeat I debated my unanswered choice until a bus driver’s voice carried over the crowd: “Last call for departures!Bus 117.Five minutes!”
Tristan blinked, shouldering the branch like a soldier with a spear.“Guess that’s our cue too.We need to beat the mass hysteria about to descend upon the parking lot and delay our departure.”
I nodded, pulse still racing for reasons that had nothing to do with schedules.We fell into step together, the lake fading behind us, but the silence between us clung like mist on the water.
And I couldn’t decide what scared me more; that he’d almost fallen into Lake Louise ...or that I might be halfway falling for him already.
Chapter Five
“All right, Nightlight,” Tristan said, stretching his neck.“We need a game before I start counting pine trees for entertainment.”
The van hummed beneath us, the steady thrum of rubber against asphalt acting like a lullaby for the restless.Afternoon light flickered through the windshield in gold-and-green bursts as we wound through the mountain roads, the radio crooning something soft and familiar.
We’d run out of coffee an hour ago and conversation had fizzled into a comfortable silence.Tristan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing my way with a restless energy that usually meant trouble.
“Oh no,” I said, already suspicious.“If this involves singing, I’m vetoing it.MyOne Weekperformance was my peak.”
“Not singing.License plate game.But with a twist.”
“Of course.”I leaned back against the seat.“You’ve invented it, haven’t you?”
“Yup.The rules are simple.You take the letters off a plate and turn them into a slogan.Like a life motto.Bonus points if it sounds deep.”
“That’s dangerously close to therapy.”
“Then you’ll be amazing at it.”He shot me the type of grin that had probably gotten him out of countless detentions in high school.
We passed a mud-splattered pickup with a dented plate: NBD 123.
I squinted.“Okay, fine.Not Backing Down.”
“Strong start,” he said.“VeryAnna versus the universe.”
