Despite our current predicament, it’s been exactly what I needed. His family has taken me in like one of their own and being in the mountains, getting fresh air, has been like a salve for my wounded soul. God, I feel like a fool for even admitting this, but he’s taken better care of me in the last six months than my ex-fiancé ever did.
“Yes, this is the right way, but these fucking swamp beavers are trying to ruin our day.” His back muscles tense as I come up behind him on the last bit of dry trail.
“Don’t let the beavers get you down. We’ll figure it out.”
Cruz glances down pointedly at my feet. He was relentless in trying to convince me to let him buy me hiking boots before the trip. But I insisted that my running shoes would work just fine. Looking at all the nasty water in front of us, he may have had a point. There’s no telling what’s lurking under the muddy surface.
“You don’t need to gloat,” I say, testing the log in front of me with my foot to see how stable it is. “It’ll be like playingThe Floor is Lava. We came out here looking for adventure, well, here it is.” I transfer some of my weight to the rotten log, feeling it give a little under my foot.
“And what happens when you fall in?” he asks, his hands landing on my hips as I step up onto the fallen tree. “Who’s going to save you?”
“I can save myself, thank you very much,” I say, not feeling quite as brave as I sound when I step out of his grasp and the log tilts.
“Yeah, you can,” he says. When I look back over my shoulder, he’s looking at me with so much admiration that it makes me lose focus and I almost end up covered in the putrid smelling puddle at my feet.
Once I’ve successfully made it across the first log and found a stable stump to wait on, Cruz teeters his way across. “You’re impressively nimble, Slugger.”
“It’s like you forget I get paid to be athletic.”
“That’s because I do. Most days, you’re just my sweet friend. Not . . . all that.” I wave my hands in his general direction, careful not to lose my balance.
We leapfrog through the giant mess the beavers have created taking turns leading until we get to the dry trail marker only to find more swamp.
“Jesus Christ,” Cruz says, taking his hat off his head and pushing his hair back. He glances at his watch and looks up at the sky. This is really slowing us down. The trail we picked is a loop at this point, our only option is to keep going or tack on extra miles by backtracking. Neither option is ideal with the dwindling daylight.
His brow furrows as he looks around. “Hop on my back. This section doesn’t look too deep. I can carry you through and save us some time. My boots are waterproof, but you’ll end up with soaked feet if you try.
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll be fine.” I brush him off taking a step forward. Large fingers wrap around my wrist and when I turn around and see the look of concern etched in his brow, I cave instantly. “Okay, we’ll do it your way, but put those puppy dog eyes away, you used your one allowance of them.”
He squats in front of me and it takes me two tries before he hoists me up like I weigh nothing. Big hands wrap around my thighs holding me tight to him as he starts his slow trudge towards the next trail marker.
Trying to make this as easy on him as possible I mold myself to his back so I don’t throw us off balance which results in my face being buried against the side of his neck. Rather than turn my head away, I inhale the scent of him—leather, grass, and a salty tang from the day’s exertion fills my nose. It’s become a staple in my everyday life, and after the last six months one whiff and I instantly feel at ease—steady.
Just like he is now, putting me first. I bite my lip and hug him tighter.
“You good back there?” he asks, treading carefully as we approach a rickety looking log bridge.
“The best. Thank you,” I say thinking about everything he’s done for me this weekend alone. Having his parents around has been an unexpected perk. I was nervous about meeting them, but with my dads so far away the parental attention was exactly what I needed.
He slowly lowers me to the ground.
“Let me go first,” I tell him, not waiting for the argument I know is coming and stepping up onto the log. Rickety as fuck, it flexes beneath me. “I’m smaller, it makes sense,” I add before I gingerly shuffle to the other side.
Once I’m safely on the other side, Cruz slides his feet across the slippery surface. He’s almost there when his front foot loses its grip and his arms windmill wildly, but there’s no recovering. He lands with a splash, dotting my legs with brown mud.
I lunge forward, but he holds up one slimy hand. “Don’t . . . trust me.” The sulfuric fumes fill the air around me and I stop in my tracks.
“Oh, that’s bad,” I say pulling my shirt up to cover the lower half of my face.
He pushes off the ground, not bothering with the log anymore. He’s covered in a thick, shit-colored mud that drips from him with each step. I roll my lips together and he gives me a warning look.
“Oh, my god! You look like the Swamp Thing,” I finally say, unable to hold back. “Come on, the lake should be up here after this incline. Let’s get you cleaned up. You stink.”
“No, Delilah,” he argues as I kick off my shoes and follow him towards the edge of the much cleaner water in the lake. “It’s an alpine lake, it’s going to be freezing.”
“I can handle it, and it will be faster if I can help you.” He’s fully dressed, but there’s no way I’m hiking back with wet clothes. I pause, letting him think I’ve given in. When his back is turned, I push my shorts down my legs and pull my long-sleeve shirt over my head, leaving me in only a black sports bra and boy shorts.
I follow him into the water before he can stop me, startling him when I come up behind. My teeth chatter as I scoop water in my hands to help with his back.
