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Gradypassedasteamingtin mug of coffee to her, concern etched in his folded brow. “You okay?”
With a forced grin, Janie nodded her head. “I’ll be fine. We’re here for the night, right?”
“Yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then lowered onto the chilly ground beside her. “Tomorrow’s hike is going to be intense.”
Janie clenched her jaw. Three days and her body screamed for her to stop. Though the scenery had been extraordinary—red sculpted sandstone, vivid painted skies, deeply carved ravines, and crystal clear streams—all Janie could think in that moment was how much she wanted her warm, soft bed. A mug of her homemade apple cider. A hot shower.
She wanted to go home.
You wouldn’t last five days.
Frustration knotted in her belly. Why was Hunter always there, clinging to the fringes of her mind, making her miserable?
Unbidden, a visceral memory of his fingers twined in hers, his nose feathering down her skin, and his lips brushing across hers surged into her exhausted homesickness. Squeezing her eyes shut, she rolled her fists as longing pressed hard into her chest.
How could she want that more than all the other comforts on her mental list? As ifhewas the call beckoning her heart. He was the cause of her homesickness.
She was mad at him!
You miss him.
This was his fault.
You didn’t have any part of it?
He made her crazy.
True. And happy. And whole.
Where were these thoughts coming from?
“Janie?”
The gentle masculine voice at her side startled her, and Janie fluttered her eyes open. “Sorry. I was . . .” Missing home. Missing Hunter.
“Maybe this was a bad idea.” Grady’s shoulders slumped as he leaned his forearm on a his propped-up knee. “If you want to go back, I’ll—”
Stubborn determination had her lifting her chin. “I’m just tired this evening. And sore. If I can stay at camp tomorrow, I think the next day will be fine.”
Grady didn’t answer.
“Were you planning to camp here again, or was there another plan?”
He cleared his throat. “Well . . .”
“Oh.” Janie lowered her gaze to her dusty hiking shoes.
“It’s okay. I’ll come back this way.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she shook her head, trusting that the dusk provided her weakness with cover. “No. I can do it.” She sipped the coffee Grady had given her. It was acrid and finished with a lingering burnt taste. As had the coffee every day since they’d started. And the food? MREs were not real food, no matter what mountain men and military people claimed.
Oy. She missed her kitchen. The smell of yeasty bread. The mouthwatering taste of apple pie. And a properly brewed cup of joe.
Janie swept away the image of all of that and pinned happiness on her exhausted face. “Maybe I’ll just call it a night early.”
Grady studied her. He was a nice man. He’d been patient with her as she’d lagged behind the group. Worked to include her when they sat around their evening campfires, exchanging stories of their backcountry jobs or shared memories of their school days. But as he rubbed her aching shoulders right then, that was all there was.
Grady was a nice man.
