Page 49 of Never Your Valentine

Annabelle: It means what it says

The dots appear and disappear as Kat types. When she finally replies, it’s just the shrug emoji. I wait, but she doesn’t send anything more.

I put down my phone and look out the window at the closed businesses on the other side of Elk Street. Lately, I haven’t been able to have a single interaction with Kat without Jacqueline in there somewhere too. Jacqueline who always seems available for a night out, or for hyping Kat up when she’s nervous, or for getting lunch.

I want Kat to have friends. She deserves to be surrounded by people who love her. But I can’t help the stubborn ache that craves a conversation where it’s just the two of us, laughing about nothing, without the constant Jacqueline cameos.

I know how needy that is. I’m the one who moved away. This is my problem to solve, not Kat’s. But the lonely feeling is still there, humming under everything.

Maybe the real problem is that I work at home and I’ve been alone for too many days in a row. What was it Sophie said to me? Something about getting through the winter by getting out more? I check my weather app. It’s supposed to be decent for the next few days, and I need fresh air. I text Sophie.

Annabelle: Can you tell me about your hiking trips?

Sophie: What, specifically?

Annabelle: Do you offer hiking for downstate girlies who are half scared of the wilderness?

Sophie: You’ve just described my best customers

Annabelle:

Sophie: You busy tonight? I’ve got room in my group

Annabelle: NIGHT hiking?

Sophie: It’s called glowshoeing. You’ll love it.

I doubt I’m going to love it, but I trust Sophie. When she sends me a link to her website, I sign up for the hike, pay the fee, download the map to the trailhead, and head out.

We had several inches of fresh snow this afternoon, and the pine trees look like sugared candies. The powder muffles the forest into a dreamy hush, the kind that makes you want to whisper. The glowsticks lining the trail add an otherworldly quality.

The six women in our group didn’t get the memo. They’re between fifty and seventy, bundled in colorful jackets and radiating girls’ weekend energy, with outdoor voices, loud laughter, and occasional bursts of off-key showtunes. They’re adorable, in a “rounding up raccoons” kind of way.

Sophie is in full guide mode, her orange parka bright as a flame in the dusky woods. She moves through the group with uncanny grace for someone who basically has sleds strapped to her feet. “Bend your knees as we go down this slope, Lois. Leaning back a bit helps. Ope, not that much, Kimberly! Think yoga, not trust fall.”

Sophie lingers behind the group to walk beside me. “How do you like the hike so far?”

“This is beautiful,” I gush. I try to look ahead, but the trail loops around, adding mystery to the magic. “How long did it take you to plant all these glowsticks?”

“I just dragged a sled behind me and threw handfuls,” she says. “Cleaning them up is the hard part. Lots of bending.”

“I can help, if you want.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a good workout.” She nods to the chattering women who have stopped for yet another group photo. “Watching them enjoy it makes it all worth it.”

“I should have known you’d be here,” says a man’s voice from behind us. We turn to see him coming off an unlit branch of the path. He’s tall and broad shouldered, wearing a disgruntled expression that looks familiar. This has to be another Neverly brother, and judging from Sophie’s sudden stiffness, I can guess which one.

She puts her hands on her hips. “This is a public trail. You don’t get to act surprised.”

“I’m not surprised. Just taking notes. The glowsticks are a nice touch. Not interfering at all with my dark sky hike.” He gestures down the trail where two couples are plodding along in their snowshoes.

Sophie gives them a half-hearted wave and calls out, “Good luck getting home! And remember, Groupon doesn’t offer refunds.”

He pretends to be stabbed in the heart. “Savage.”

“You like it?” Sophie asks with mock sweetness. “Because I’ve got plenty more.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” He turns to me. “Hi. I’m Felix.”