Page 76 of Off the Trail

“Of course. You do what you need to do.”

“Thanks, Blaze.” He sounds happy, which makes me unaccountably sad.

“Sure,” I manage to say. “Travel safe. I gotta go. Misty needs a walk.” My dog perks her ears at the sound of her name but doesn’t move from her bed.

“All right. Have a⁠—”

I end the call before we can trade any more banal pleasantries.

Shawn was never going to stay; he was never going to make this his home. We had fun while it lasted, and I’m just going to have to figure out how to keep moving. I’ve had my heart broken before when my parents left me and Brooke too soon. This is a different kind of heartbreak, but I’ll survive it, too.

Chapter 34

Blaze

Monday morning I wake up to a dusting of snow. It’s powdery and will be gone by noon as the air warms up, but it’s a stark reminder we’re losing the race against time at the house, especially now that Shawn is off the crew. Thinking about him makes my chest ache, as if I’ve strained a muscle in the vicinity of my heart. I deliberately put him from my mind as I go about my morning chores.

The thin layer of white dissolves as predicted, but the wintery chill clings to my breastbone, making me feel old and creaky as I haul a load of wood down to the beach in anticipation of the bonfire. I’m nailing down a tarp so the wood won’t get wet in the intervening days when I hear a vehicle approach. I turn and watch a new model Bronco with an immaculate forest green paint job, enormous tires, shiny rims and a guttural engine noise drive onto the narrow road that runs through the retreat.

I rack my brain, not remembering Marika mentioning any new arrivals today, but then the Bronco parks in front of cabin three. My heart gives a traitorous leap. It’s probably a minion come to collect Shawn’s things, I reason, digging my heels into the soft ground to keep myself from going over to investigate.

I finish my task, head to the boathouse with one eye on cabin three. Halfway there I freeze—that’s Shawn getting out of the Bronco, big as life. He swivels his head and sees me, and then he smiles, and I don’t know what to do. I had convinced myself I was never going to see him again. And now he’s back, and I don’t know how to feel.

He walks my way, loose-shouldered and with the same plain ball cap on his head. He’s wearing jeans and sneakers and a flannel I’ve never seen on him before. He looks the same, but different. He looks confident, like a man who knows what he wants.

Well, that makes one of us.

I dust my hands on my jeans, then curl them into fists. I want to go to him. I want him to come to me. I want him to leave and make this easier.

“Hey, Blaze.” His voice is irritatingly steady.

Mine comes out sharp. “I thought you were going to San Francisco.”

“I never said I was going to San Francisco,” he says evenly.

“I don’t understand.”

“You want to come in?” He hitches a shoulder toward the cabin. “We should talk.”

“Okay,” I say, because what else am I going to do? “Can you come to the boathouse, though? I need to check on Misty.”

“Sure.” He follows me into my domain. Misty’s chilling by my desk, but she immediately comes up and greets Shawn with full-body wiggles and ecstatic panting noises as if meeting a long-lost friend.

He chuckles and leans over to rub her head. “Hey girl, missed you,” he says, immediately playing dirty by being sweet to my dog. He looks up at me. “Missed you, too.”

“Oh, that’s just mean.”

His smile falls away. “Huh?”

“You left. I’ve been trying to get over you.”

His brow wrinkles. “I left less than four days ago.”

“Well, I’ve been making pretty good progress.”

He straightens, and Misty stays close to his legs, as though she’s worried he’ll go away again if she leaves his side. I empathize.

“I told you I was coming back. You said you would be here.” He sounds slightly accusatory. “You didn’t say you’d already written me off.”