Page 31 of Falling

“And you still wanna go?” Booker raised a skeptical brow.

“I’ve been on one hike in my whole life and I sprained my ankle and my baby sister and her best friend had to carry me out,” I said. “But I already know you can lift me. And I know you’ll take care of me.”

“Always,” Booker promised.

I shrugged, standing up and gesturing toward the door. “Then let’s go catch some fish.”

12

BOOKER

“So you’ve got two hooks on the line?” Miles asked, holding up the hooks in question. “And this is… four-pound line? Because trout have really good eyesight and they’d see it if you used anything thicker?”

“Wow,” I watched him fingering the line intently, focused like this was the most important thing he’d ever done. “You did do your research.”

The tiny smile I got in response made this whole trip feel worth it. Even if Miles was standing by the edge of a river bank in the least outdoor shoes I’d ever seen. Including Seth’s patent leather heels.

It was a beautiful day out, crisp air and clear skies. The leaves were turning, the river was rippling, everything smelled fresh and open and wild. I loved weather like this. The change of seasons always felt full of possibilities.

“Research librarian.” Miles shrugged, drawing my attention back to him. “Show me how to cast this?” he asked, shaking the baited rod I’d handed him at me.

I moved to stand behind him, stomach flipping over as he leaned back toward me. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t trust me. I liked to think of myself as a trustworthy person. But it was nice that he did, that he always had.

He was nice. He fit against me like he’d been carved out of the same block of wood. His body was warm and since he had ultimately asked to shower before we left, he smelled of my soap, and…

I was way too old for this.

“You wanna pull your arm back like so,” I said, guiding him through the motion, my fingers brushing the soft skin on the back of his hand. “And then you’re gonna sweep forward. Kind of like pitching a curveball.”

“No idea how to do that,” Miles said.

I chuckled. I should’ve guessed he wouldn’t. Miles was many things, but he was exactly as athletic as he was outdoorsy, which was to say there were fish in the river with better chances of playing in the World Series.

“You’ll be fine. Just… like you’re throwing it. It matters less than people would lead you to believe. Just don’t do it over your head, that’s a good way to get a hook stuck in your ear.”

Miles winced. “If I get a hook stuck anywhere in me you’ll have to hold my hand all the way to medical attention.”

“I promise that, in the unlikely event of hook-related injury, I will hold your hand,” I said solemnly. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Miles said. I guided him by the elbow, guiding his arm back cast his line into the river.

“Now throw it.”

He did as I told him and I watched the line sail over the water and then sink like an expert had done it with barely a splash. I grinned, barely stopping myself from bursting into triumphant laughter and scaring every fish in a hundred-yard radius away.

“You sure you haven’t done this before?” I asked.

Miles shook his head, glancing back at me. “Was that okay?”

“Perfect,” I said. “You’re a natural.”

He lit up at that, like no one had ever told him he was good at anything before.

And if I thought about it, I wondered if anyone ever had.

I patted him on the shoulder for good measure then forced myself to step away.

“Now what?” he asked.