Page 103 of River & Rue

She nods, her gaze roaming, never staying with mine more than a second or two. “That’s good.”

The voices of the group are almost inaudible now. Although the chances of getting lost are pretty minimal given the multitude of moss-draped trail signs, I haul the backpack onto my shoulders.

Rue shifts from foot to foot. “Do you need help carrying anything? I have some space because Maya said I shouldn’t bring soup or six shirts. Or a saucepan. I do wish I’d brought the apples, though, and I think I might have forgotten socks.”

My laugh is irrepressible. “That tracks. And thanks for the offer, but I’m fine.”

I close and tighten the strap on my chest, then look up to see lightning flashing in her eyes. It makes me want to smile wider, but I tamp it down as I walk toward her.

I don’t stop until she has to lift her chin to hold eye contact—and she does, her nervousness swept away by annoyance.

“I’m strong. I can help.”

“I know. I’m not refusing help because I don’t think you’re capable. If my back starts acting up, I’ll let you know. But for now…”

Bending my knees and tightening my core, I grab the thick straps below her shoulders and lift until her eyes are level with mine.

“Pretty sure I can handle the challenge.”

She blinks, momentarily dazed, then remembers herself. “Yes, yes, you’re a big buff man. Put me down now.”

Returning her to the ground, I nod to the path. “We should get going.”

Our steps fall into sync within two strides. As we pass from sunlight and open sky into the shadowed domain of towering redwoods, a chill rolls down my spine. I glance at Rue, and her wide, wandering eyes tell me she feels this too—awe wrapped in a prickling awareness of having passed through an intangible boundary.

The trail is wide enough for us to walk side by side, meandering through trees ahead before curving out of sight. No one else is visible, but I hear a faint echo of Kirk’s honking laugh. How the hell did they get so far ahead of us?

The sensation of being in another world deepens. For a dense, lush forest, the air is unnervingly still. No animal noises. No wind rustling through the canopy. Even our footsteps sound muted. Logic wants me to believe the unruly group ahead of us was the cause, but my gut tells me otherwise.

I’m about to ask Rue if she’s as spooked as I am when she speaks.

“I’m sorry, River.”

Creepy forest forgotten, I shake my head. “I’m the one who should apologize. I invaded your privacy. I should have knocked, and I definitely should have left when I heard my name.”

There’s a long pause. “How much did you hear?”

My throat tightens, serrating my voice. “I walked in around the time you said we don’t have a future.”

Head falling back, she groans. “Fuck, I’m so embarrassed. You must think I’m crazy.”

I frown at her. “Why would I think you’re crazy?”

Giving me an incredulous look, she waves her hands at me like she can conjure my understanding.

“Because!”

My stare dehydrates. “I can sense storms, not read minds.”

“Because I implied you might want a relationship with me—which you’ve never even hinted at—and then listed all the reasons we’d never work out. What about that isn’t embarrassing or crazy?”

“Let me get this straight. You think I’m upset about you implying I might want to be your boyfriend?”

“You’ve avoided me and worn a perma-frown ever since. What else was I supposed to think?” Her gaze lowering, she sighs heavily. “I understand if you don’t want to do this—whatever we’re doing—anymore. I’m sorry for making things weird. I hope we can be friends again at some point.”

My mind is stuck in overdrive as I try to untangle my thoughts; I don’t notice her walking ahead of me until I see the backs of her hiking boots.

“Rue, wait.”