Page 67 of Found in Wild Sage

“Yes.”

For the most part, I believe he has been honest with me, though I know there are things he’s holding back. But then, we both are, so I can’t blame him for not unzipping from chin to toes and showing me everything.

“Well, let me tell you this is the most I’ve enjoyed a meal with someone in a long time. And before this, it was dinner with you at my house.” His Ryan-blue eyes have me pinned in place as he finishes. “I want us to be friends.”

My smile spreads instantly, but it’s admittedly a touch thin. Friends. I’ll laugh at myself later when I have some privacy. It’s so easy to forget that all of this is arranged, even less than an hour after we talked about how he has money and I refuse to acknowledge that has anything to do with me.

“Of course. We are. We’ve been over this, haven’t we?”

“So we have. Then, in the spirit of that friendship, I’d like to talk about the Ryan family camping trip next weekend.”

I freeze mid-bite.

A flicker of humor crosses his face before he continues. “I think we can get away with only going one night. Some people will arrive Friday afternoon and take a half day, but I can make our excuses so we’ll only need to be there Saturday to Sunday. Or, honestly, if you think that’s too much, we can keep it to just Saturday and skip the overnight.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want you to miss out on a family tradition.” Even if I have zero experience camping and am not particularly excited about navigating Charlie’s bedtime routine in a tent.

Or peeing in the woods, for that matter. But people have been doing this for centuries, right? I can handle it for a night.

Especially surrounded by the Ryans.

“Think about it. If you have any doubts, we’ll cancel, or at the very least cut it short. It’s usually a pretty good time, but it’s not the thing I look forward to most or anything. It’s missable if it makes you at all uncomfortable.”

I frown at him. “Well, that’s nonsense.”

His brows shoot up and he quickly chews his last bite, wipes his mouth again like a good boy, and says, “What is?”

I’m not sure I’ve seen him surprised. Recognizing it now gives me a tiny thrill. “The idea that I shouldn’t ever be at all uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have done anything in life if I avoided discomfort.” Guilt streaks through my chest like an errant firework. “And in truth, I’ve let myself avoid discomfort for too long.”

“Why do you say that?”

Because there are too many things I haven’t even attempted. Because I’ve been stuck.

I want to be honest here, and I think he deserves to understand something I’ve only recently started to wrap my own head around.

“Did you know that Sam is pretty much the first girl friend I’ve ever had?”

Confusion stitches his brows together. “How is that possible? Maggie loves you. And May. Clementine thinks you’re amazing, and Jerry⁠—”

“They’re all lovely. But I’ve been friendly with them, not friends. I don’t say that to be pedantic or something, I just mean… I didn’t let them in. I’ve kept this entire town at arm’s length even as I’ve gobbled up the safety and community it has offered me from the very beginning.”

“How can you say you keep people at arm’s length? You know everyone by first and last name. You remember their interests, their ailments, their goddamn hopes and dreams, Evie.”

A startled chuckle slips out because I don’t think I’ve ever heard him swear. “That’s what I know about them. My point is, I haven’t let them know me, not in any way that might require me to be a little uncomfortable.”

Understanding flickers in his gaze. “Ah.”

I nod. “When Sam arrived, it was clear she’d come from an abusive relationship, and knowing that… it scratched at the filmy status quo I’d covered myself in. I connected with her instantly, not just because of what she’d been through and knowing I could understand so much of what she described feeling, but because I realized I wanted to. She made me want a friend, and then she became one and let me be one to her.”

His jaw is tight, but his attention is rapt. I don’t know if what I’m saying makes me less desirable in his eyes, or maybe just weird, but I feel the same way about him.

And I’m going to tell him.

“I’ve wanted to get to know May better, and Finn’s adorable and super friendly, of course. There are so many wonderful people in this community. But honestly, the only other person who’s made me feel like I wanted to risk something—to risk that discomfort, which I’ve avoided so carefully since having my whole life upended when I moved here—is you.”

His lips part, jaw relaxing, and his eyes flutter a blink as they search mine for understanding.

“You wanted to be my friend?”