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“Lower trail,” he said, turning toward the quiet path winding into the moonlit woods. “It’s peaceful down there.”

Taking a deep breath, I fell into step beside him and followed him into the dark.

12

HUDSON

SURRENDER ONE ADDITIONAL FRAGMENT OF POTATO

The meadow stretched behind the hall, bordered on one side by the tree line and on the other by a low wooden fence that marked the edge of the Blackwell property. Most of the pack had gone inside for dessert, coffee, or whatever second meal Julie had decided we needed after the run. Their laughter carried through the open doors, but the noise faded with every step Sloane and I took.

I opened the paper bag and found the burger under two cartons of fries.

“You bought enough food for three people,” I said.

Sloane let out a soft, breathless laugh, and the sound instantly lifted my mood.

We followed the mowed path through the meadow. Solar lights had been installed near the first section for evening events, though they ended before the trail curved toward the woods. Beyond them, moonlight danced on the grass, and the stars were visible above the ridge.

Sloane tipped her face toward the sky. “You don’t get this many stars in the city,” she said.

“Too much light?”

“Yes. And too many buildings. From my apartment, I can see part of the sky between a parking garage and another apartment building. It’s a very exclusive viewing window.”

“You should advertise it as a feature if you ever decide to move,” I suggested.

“My landlord already calls the apartment bright and airy because one window opens six inches.”

I laughed and took a bite. For several minutes, we talked about nothing important. She asked whether the movie nights happened often. I told her we usually held them at least once a month during warmer weather, though the selection process had become more complicated since Grandma Ruth learned how to vote in online polls and began creating additional accounts to support her preferred choices.

Sloane stopped walking long enough to look at me. “Your grandmother commits voter fraud over family movie night?”

I swallowed a bit of burger and nodded.

“What does she vote for?”

“Westerns. Anything with horses. Occasionally romantic comedies, though she denies it afterward.”

“Why?”

“She says people have enough romantic problems in real life.”

Sloane snorted. “That’s fair.”

We reached a narrow bridge that crossed the shallow creek behind the meadow. It was wide enough for two people if neither objected to being close, which I did not. Sloane stepped onto it beside me, and our shoulders brushed.

She moved closer to the railing, perhaps to give me more room. I told myself that was all it was.

The creek flowed beneath us, though not with its usual vigor since we’d had several dry weeks. I finished half the burger before folding the wrapper around the remaining portion.

“Didn’t you like it?” she asked.

“I’m saving room for fries.”

Her gaze dropped to the two cartons still inside the bag. “That sentence suggests you believe there is a separate stomach assigned to potatoes.”

“There should be.”