Page 105 of River & Rue

My smile kisses her forehead.

“You can thank my mom next time we see her.”

She laughs—soft, fragile, and real.

The storm quiets and rolls back.

But this time…

A breeze stays.

36

rue

​. . .​

one tent

“We’ve passed this tree before, Princess.”

“No, we haven’t.” I stop and frown. “Wait. Have we?”

Laughter rides his voice. “You said the roots were dinosaur feet and the moss was nail polish.”

I study the tree’s roots, then sigh. “I stand by my assessment. Definitely a dinosaur pedicure.”

“I think it’s time to admit we’re lost.”

I give him a dubious look. “Why do you sound so cheerful about it?”

His smile widens. “I’m lost with you.”

My heartbeat quickens, sending a rush of blood to my cheeks. I turn away, my hands clenching on the straps of my backpack.

Ever since he said… everything he said, I’ve been a nervous, tongue-tied wreck. He broke my brain and it’s still on the fritz, sluggishly adapting to a massive paradigm shift—provided this is real and not a hyperrealistic dream, that is. The verdict hasn’t come in yet, but if a porcupine in a tutu waltzed in front of me right now, I’d be both devastated and categorically unsurprised.

Adjusting the backpack on my aching shoulders, I walk past the gargantuan redwood with the aforementioned dinosaur feet. The trail forks ten feet beyond it. Both directions offer nearly identical views of stoic redwoods and fern-bordered paths. A familiar sign invites us to turn right for Bird Grove Trail, which apparently looped us back here, and left for Ghostwood Creek Campground.

My spine tingles as River walks up behind me.

I clear my throat. “And we’re positive Kirk didn’t say Ghostwood Creek?”

“I think we would’ve remembered that name, don’t you?”

I sigh. “Valid.”

His hand slides under my ponytail, his thumb finding and massaging a knot at the base of my neck. My head falls forward in relief while a different kind of pressure builds in my lower abdomen.

“There’s more bad news,” he murmurs.

“What’s that?” I ask distractedly.

“Even if we retrace our steps perfectly, it’s unlikely we’d make it back to PAC before sunset. And given our combined lack of navigational skills…”

“There’s a hundred-percent chance we’ll end up wandering around in the dark,” I finish with a sigh. “I can’t believe Kirk didn’t give us maps. Or compasses. Or anything remotely useful.”

“I can, but I am a little insulted no one noticed we’d fallen behind.”