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I checked every inch of the balloon, then met with Nash, Chico, and John. After a quick sniff of the wind, I drew a map in the dirt.
“Remember, the forestry road looks like it dead ends after the bridge, but you can get through if you take it slow. But if we end up landing at the Chute Canyon overlook, don’t park the trailer too close to the edge. It’s more crumbly than it looks. And if we land at Haunted Hollow—”
Nash cut me off. “We’ll figure it out. Now, go.” He gave me a gentle shove.
I stopped, tempted to hug him. To kiss him, too, and dance him around. I settled for a huge, happy smile that Nash returned, then ran over to where Madden was delivering the safety brief.
As he spoke in his slow, lazy drawl, I checked the sky. Dawn colors lit the horizon, and everything looked fine. But the hair on the back of my neck tickled, so I sniffed the air again — and frowned. Had that cloud bank been there before?
It wasn’t much — just a dark smudge against the yellow of dawn. But it hadn’t been there minutes earlier.
“Nothing to worry about,” Madden said when I pointed it out. “Besides, look at the forecast.” He tapped a second page on the clipboard. “All clear. See?”
For the second time that morning, I grabbed the clipboard. The forecast called for light, stable winds out of the northeast at five to seven miles per hour. Perfect — on paper.
“Aw, that’s nothing,” John echoed, following my eyes to the horizon.
My eyes agreed, but my gut wouldn’t settle down.
I checked the lines, then tested the burner.Whoosh!Flames shot into the balloon, lifting it off the ground. My heart lifted with it. Any minute now, I would be flying the way I did in my dreams. But that niggling feeling persisted.
I continued filling the balloon with quick bursts, punctuated by concerned looks at the sky.
Still nothing. Nothing to put a finger on anyway.
Nash came up beside me, looking in the same direction.
“What?”
“Just checking,” I bluffed.
Nash studied me so closely, I swear he could read my mind.
I grabbed my phone and checked the more recent airport weather report I’d downloaded on the drive. The fact that it failed to mention that incoming system did little to settle me down.
Nash helped Chico put away the fan, then came over and stood by my side.
“You know what they say about trusting your instincts…” he murmured.
I did. Well, usually. But given the complete lack of evidence…
“Especiallyyourinstincts,” he added, dead serious.
I stood a little taller, prouder. But that naggingsomethingrefused to back down.
“All right, everyone,” Madden called out. “You can leave your things in the van. We’re about to take off.”
The guests high-fived one another — except Nate, who was peeing in the bushes.
I studied the sky a few seconds longer, then tugged Madden’s sleeve and pointed again. “Look at that.”
He scoffed. “The forecast says—”
“Forecasts can be wrong,” I hissed, keeping my voice down.
Madden snorted. “You scared?”
I nearly stamped my foot — and if it landed on his, all the better.
