6. Adair

6

ADAIR

I t’s unseasonably warm out, and I’m in a good mood when I leave work. It’s been an entire week since Jack had to come bring me my phone, and I’ve managed to not lose it since. I check the time. It’s early enough for me to get in a short hike before dark, so I head towards the park.

In the parking lot of the nature center, I’m sitting sideways in the driver’s seat with the door open, switching out my sneakers for the hiking boots I had in the backseat, when Jack approaches.

“Adair,” he says, using my given name as if we’ve never met, let alone shared a bed.

I’m about to frown when a lightbulb goes on. “Ohhh…” My eyes widen. “Are you not… out at work?”

Jack snorts. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

OK, then. I roll my eyes. “Right. So, you just don’t want any of your coworkers thinking you have enough feelings to be in…” I pause. “Whatever it is we’re in.”

He doesn’t answer, but I’m distracted when a sudden thought hits me. “Oh shit. I just remembered. When are you moving? Obviously, I’ll make sure —”

Jack interrupts me. “Don’t worry about it.”

I tip my head to the side a little, puzzled by his expression. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that right now Jack looks… sheepish. He notices me studying him and his face snaps into its usual scowl.

“ What ?”

I shrug and try to look nonchalant. “I just —I thought you were moving pretty soon.” I’m not going to ride his ass about it, but I know what I saw. Was he lying earlier? I can’t resist prodding just a little. “I thought you were transferring stations or parks or whatever.” I give him my best big-eyed, play-dumb expression.

“I’m staying here,” he says without looking at me.

“Well, that’s good.” I pretend to look at my phone. “I’d miss you.” I watch him through my lashes to see his response.

His thick brows lower and he’s still for just a beat before his lip curls. “Well, you are a dumb bunny.” I look for some indication that he’s teasing, but he just gives me a stone-faced stare.

“Yep, I sure am,” I mutter.

Jack huffs out a sigh that matches the grumpy look on his face as he nods in the direction of the main trailhead. “Better stop fucking around and get going, if you expect to be back before dusk.”

“Well, thanks for the advice,” I say sweetly. When he picks up on my sarcasm and glares at me, I grin at him. “I’d hate to be out there in the dark… alone.”

The flash of heat that blazes in his eyes tells me all I need to know. After I lock my car, I throw my keys into the inner zippered pocket of my jacket.

I pick a trail with a little side path that pops out onto a bare granite outcrop with a sweeping view towards the west. The wind is sharper up here but I hug my arms around myself and pull my hood up over my head, watching the sun turn the clouds fiery shades of orange and pink. When the sky mellows into a luminous reddish-purple, I turn around with a satisfied sigh.

I’m pretty sure I know the way back by heart, but I feel better having enough light to follow the path back to the main trail. I guess I could always use my phone as a flashlight, but that feels like cheating. A smile pulls at my lips. Plus, I know Jack is around here somewhere, eager to track and chase me down. I’m not about to give him an unfair advantage by letting him see my light.

It’s not really on the way, but I take a little detour to swing through the clearing with the picnic table. I can’t help it; I’m sentimental. A few deer are nosing through the blanket of fallen leaves. They give me side-eye, wagging their little tails as I approach, but I hug the treeline on the opposite side so they don’t feel threatened.

Half a minute later, though, the biggest one jerks her head up with a snort and they all bound off in the same direction.

“Thanks for that,” I murmur under my breath. The way they spooked —I’m thinking it’s not a black bear —not your typical one, anyway — that sent them fleeing. I stay in the shadows, trying to triangulate between the direction the deer took away from whatever spooked them and the double birch that glows bright in the fading light. Now that I know which direction he’s moving in, maybe I can slip around him and make it back to the parking lot.

I’m creeping around a clump of brambles when I hear the snap of a twig. I freeze. There’s really no good place to duck down here… Another fifty yards up or so is a stand of hemlocks; if I make it there, I’ll have the long shadows the trees cast as well as a soft, sound-muffling carpet of needles under my feet.

It’s worth a shot. I move as quickly and as quietly as I can, but then I hear a noise that’s definitely a footstep. Son-of-a-bitch. I light out for the hemlocks anyway, but as the footsteps behind me grow louder, eventually all I’m hoping is that at least I’ll make it to that soft bed of needles by the time Jack takes me down.

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