Chapter 19 #2
I bit my lip. The rough gravel in his voice immediately made me think of the passionate way we’d spent the last few minutes.
Hiking back was a disappointment after the kiss we’d just shared.
I’d been ready for something else entirely, but maybe it was a blessing our audience arrived before we’d gone too far.
The older man snapped his fingers. “Do you have bear spray? Not sure if you saw, but they’ve had a few sightings in the area in the last few weeks. We thought one might be enjoying the clearing until we realized the noises were just you folks.”
Heat flushed my cheeks. We had been enjoying the clearing, and, apparently, I hadn’t been quiet about it.
Davis tilted his head, patting the cannister on his pack.
“Good, good. Be safe.”
Davis threaded his fingers through mine, tugging me toward the trail, and I waved with my free hand. “Have a great rest of your hike!”
Davis’s long legs ate up the first few feet of the trail, but he pulled back immediately when he realized my shorter stride couldn’t keep up.
“What’s the matter, Davis? Cat got your tongue?”
“Maybe I’m afraid of bears,” he said with mock piety, lips twitching.
I chuckled. The idea of Davis being afraid of anything was laughable. I was pretty sure he could give even a bear a run for its money.
“Are you sure you’re not afraid of being caught naked by a family on a nature walk?” I teased.
“That too.”
“My hero,” I said, placing a hand over my heart. “What happens if we come across a real bear? Will you protect me from that too?”
He grunted. “Nah, pretty sure I can run faster than you.”
Laughter burst from me, and my heart stopped when his solemn expression cracked into a broad grin. Seeing him smile was priceless. Worth almost getting caught in a compromising position by an unsuspecting group of hikers.
The rest of the hike down was much easier than the scramble up, but my knees and ankles still ached by the time we made it back to Davis's truck. I ran pretty regularly, but the flat land around Campfire was no match for the elevation changes at Quartzite Mountain.
It was a relief to slide into his truck and get off my feet for a while. I’d ridden with Davis around town multiple times. His defensive driving helped me relax, because he stayed vigilant. That didn’t stop me from clenching when Davis pulled onto the freeway for the final approach to Spokane.
He cast a quick glance my way, a frown wrinkling his brow when he noticed my fisted hands and white knuckles. “You okay, Sophie?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, laser-focused on the traffic in front of us.
Davis eased off the gas, leaving more room between us and the next car, and I worked to relax my jaw. Without a word, he signaled for the exit and drew to a stop in a convenience store parking lot.
“Want to tell me what that’s about?” he asked gently, nudging the hands I still held clenched in my lap.
“I get anxious on the freeway.” I shrugged. “Just not used to it anymore, I guess.”
“Hmm,” he rumbled, watching me with that too-perceptive gaze. Waiting.
I squirmed, picking at a thread on my shirt.
Davis sat, an immovable force next to me. Sure. Strong. He’d probably never had an anxious moment in his life. With a deep sigh, I relaxed against the seatback, bringing my gaze to meet his.
There was no censure there, only concern.
“Bee?” The soft note of worry in his voice sealed my fate.
“I was in an accident a few years back,” I said.
“Bad one?”
“Yeah,” I said, worrying the thread, working it back and forth, watching it unravel further.
Davis stretched across the space between us, gathering my hands in his, stilling my fingers.
“I walked away, but watching someone flip their car and die in front of me left its mark,” I finally said. He squeezed my hands, and I continued. “My fear of driving on the freeway made living in Spokane complicated.”
Understatement. There were a fair number of alternatives, but I-90 was the backbone through town. Constantly explaining my detours got old, and I hated seeing the pity in my friends’ faces, the impatience from boyfriends.
“Understandable,” Davis rumbled, the soft burr in his voice comforting. “Don’t worry, Bee. I’ve got a different route.”
With a final squeeze, he released me, turning south, away from the freeway.
Slowly, I relaxed. Not surprised, but touched by his easy acceptance. I’d had enough sideways glances and pointed questions to last a lifetime. Davis just rolled with it, not seeing anything weird about adapting his route for me.
We picked up Bee-gonia's burner and turned back to Campfire before one, and I settled in for the return trip, at ease now that the specter of the freeway was behind me.
I’d confessed one of my deepest secrets to Davis, and he’d shown I was wise to trust him with that piece of myself. Letting go of my lingering fear that he’d scoff at me for being too soft left me relieved and free for the first time in what felt like forever.
Free to accept the broken parts of myself and quit feeling like I had to make excuses. People like Davis, who truly cared, wouldn’t think less of me.
His support burrowed into my heart in a way that made me feel whole.