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Chapter Twenty-Four
AS THEIR BREATHING calmed and their bodies cooled, they talked about everything. About Archie’s Bar and the handful of people in her life who mattered a little, and about Nicole, who mattered the most; about the little restaurant near Leo’s apartment where he and Cora would have okonomiyaki on Thursday nights because it tasted just like their mom’s. He talked about how much he loved his sister and how disorienting it was to be facing a future where she didn’t have to come first in his every waking thought.
He talked about how Cora was silly in a way he never had been, how no one made him laugh as easily or as hard, how she was wonderful with friends but terrible with money, which was entirely his fault. He described her: long black hair, a dancer’s posture, a long neck, and a surprisingly loud laugh. They talked so much that by the time they’d finally drifted to sleep Lily felt like she knew Cora, could hear her bursting giggles, could imagine Leo watching her with adoration. Lily could imagine this little sister she would take on a ride into the sagebrush-covered hills of Wyoming; she wanted to make the city girl fall in love with nature.
In reality, Lily and Cora would probably have nothing in common except for Leo, and yet somehow, she imagined that would be enough.
Consciousness came thickly, dim light hovering outside the cabin. Staring at his sleepy face, part of her knew she should be more careful. Lily’s first instinct was always to draw away and leap to the worst-case scenario, which, being honest, was usually her life. But she was tired. Couldn’t she have this? Even if only for a few more days?
Rolling over in Leo’s arms, Lily kissed the center of his chest, his cheeks, his lips. He startled a little, his smile taking shape against hers.
His eyes drew open. “Hi.”
“Good morning.”
He kissed her again, before glancing at his watch.
“Let me guess,” she said, and then tilted her face up, pretending to smell the air. “It’s seven.”
He laughed. “Six forty-three. Not bad.”
Leo’s hands slid down her ribs and along her waist, coming to a gentle rest on her hips. He hummed in appreciation, kissing his way to her neck, pausing to gently nibble on the skin there. Her mind became fuzzy along the edges as she imagined how easy it would be to spend the rest of the day like this.
Unfortunately, her bladder had other ideas, and nothing on the trail was ever as simple as running down the hall to the bathroom. Lily groaned, letting her head fall to his chest.
“Later,” he said, palm flat and warm on her breastbone.
She felt Leo’s eyes follow as she dragged herself from the warmth of the sleeping bag and out to where her clothes were scattered across the buckled wood floor. She heard shuffling and looked to see him propped on his elbow, watching her without an ounce of shame.
“You going to treasure hunt like that?” She stepped into her underwear, slipped the straps of her bra over her shoulders, no longer self-conscious.
“Maybe.” He lifted his chin, motioning for her to continue.
She pulled her jeans up over her hips and his hand slipped so casually below the fabric of the sleeping bag that she wondered if he even realized he was doing it. She wanted to catalog the way he looked at her, the heat of his gaze, the way she felt almost drunk with the weight of his attention.
And as much as she’d like for it to continue, she reminded him why they were there: “That stump isn’t going to find itself.”
With a groan, he climbed from the sleeping bag. They split up and hurried through their morning routines. Thankfully Lily had perfected the art of peeing outside and washing with nothing more than a little biodegradable soap and water.
Clean and packed again, they met out front, where disappointment immediately descended. Grass and weeds and clumps of sagebrush crowded the small building, but it was clear there weren’t any stumps.
“This can’t be right.” Lily pushed aside the limbs of a leggy creosote bush to get at the ground below. Straightening, she turned in a circle, tapping a finger against her thigh.
“We know it’s the right place,” he said. “Your dad’s initials are in there. This cabin is right at a bend in the river, too. Isn’t that what you said he means by ‘the belly of the three’?”
“We could be at the wrong belly, but why would ‘Duke’s tree’ be somewhere else?” she asked herself. “He was here all the time, and it’s not like there are a bunch of cabins everywhere. What am I missing?”
She walked farther into the clearing, her footsteps startling a canyon wren picking through the brush. She reached for her backpack. “Come on.”
