25. Luke
TWENTY-FIVE
LUKE
“Your chili was good, by the way.”
We’d gone half a mile down the trail without speaking, and the silence was killing me.
The last person I expected to encounter on the path to Whispering Lake was Maggie and her four-legged sidekick, and yet here she was, as unavoidable as breathing.
Was running into her a coincidence, or did she mention the hike in an earlier conversation?
Hard to have a conversation with someone you’ve been avoiding.
Hell, how had I not noticed her Forrester in the parking lot?
“Thanks,” Maggie said, offering me a pleasant smile. The sparkle was missing from her eyes, and the guilt twisted all over again. She didn’t deserve the way I acted toward her last night, and yet, I couldn’t find the words to apologize.
Try I’m sorry. It’s not that hard, asshole.
“It’s my grandpa’s recipe,” she continued when I couldn’t get the apology to dislodge from my tight throat. “Or, well, it’s mostly his recipe. He never wrote it down, so I tried to make it from memory. It’s close, but it’s still . . . missing something.”
“Can you call him to ask?”
“I wish,” Maggie said, a hint of despondence in her tone. “He passed away three years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.” She gazed off at the mountains in the background, and I followed her sightline.
Fall was in full swing today, the brilliant gold of the aspens contrasting the dark green evergreens as if it were their life mission. It was this I missed most when I was thousands of miles overseas in the desert—the autumn season at home. I planned to never miss one again.
I almost told Maggie as much, but instead, I said, “You should enter the chili cookoff. It’s next weekend.”
“I keep seeing signs for that,” Maggie said, thoughtfully. “It’s not like I have anything else going on.”
I let out a laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing else to do,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re just advocating for half the veteran population of Bluebell Springs.”
“That stuff’s easy,” she said, brushing it off as though spending hours behind her laptop helping one grouchy old man after another was no big deal.
Those men would never truly express how grateful they were for her help, but I could see it in their eyes.
They considered Maggie a godsend, and she’d hardly been in town for a week.
“Hey, you still have my dishes,” Maggie said. “From the chili. I wouldn’t want my host to fine me for stealing his Tupperware when I leave.”
When I leave. Right. Because Maggie Holland wasn’t staying. Bluebell Springs was just a pit stop. Why did I keep forgetting that?
“Hey,” Maggie said, nudging me with her elbow. “It was a joke. You do know what those are, right?”
“You don’t have to be so nice to me,” I mumbled.
“I could make fun of your Star Wars pajama pants,” Maggie offered.
One corner of my mouth quirked up. “You’re just jealous.”
“Very jealous. You a big fan or something?” She was extending an olive branch I didn’t deserve, and it made me squirm. But my discomfort was a small price to pay, so I entertained her.
“Or something.”
“Like, how big of a fan are we talking?” She looked at me intently, as though assessing. “Do you have a Star Wars comforter on your bed, or a closet full of cosplay outfits?”
“No,” I said, omitting that I did have the comforter growing up, as well as movie posters on my walls and a drawer full of collectors’ cards.
“It’s okay if you do. I mean, I don’t get it. But I’ve never seen the movie, so—”
I reached for her elbow, pulling us both to an abrupt stop in the middle of the trail. “You’ve never seen Star Wars?”
“Nope.”
“None of them?”
“There’s more than one?”
“More than one?” I murmured, shaking my head in disbelief, but I was laughing. God, it felt good to laugh again.
My earlier tension melted away, almost as though it was never there at all.
I didn’t deserve her kindness—something that seemed to come so effortlessly to her—but I was so fucking thankful for it.
As much as I told myself I wanted to avoid her, it was bullshit.
The harder I tried to keep my distance, the more reasons I found to be around her.
Until last night, I’d been in charge of deciding how close we got.
I didn’t like it when the decision was no longer mine.
I didn’t like not being around her, and that could turn into a fucking problem.
“Is that the lake?” Maggie asked, nodding forward, her eyes lighting up with excitement. I had to force myself to look away from those blue eyes and follow their gaze.
The first hints of Whispering Lake emerged through the aspens, the brilliant blue water a reflection of the cloudless sky.
Dark evergreen trees ringed the lake, golden aspens and orange maples framing the view from where we stood.
I’d hiked this trail dozens of times in the fall, and yet, I was struck with awe every time the lake first came into view.
“That’s the one.”
“It’s breathtaking. I’m so glad your dad recommended it.”
“When did you see him?” It sounded like an accusation.
I could hear that the second the words left my mouth, and I silently cursed myself.
Fuck, I was on edge. Or was that just my default setting?
I attempted a course correction, and added, “You went back to the hardware store to buy those baseboards, didn’t you? ”
“You caught me,” Maggie said playfully as Ellie led us to a clearing that seemed as familiar to her as it was to me, as though she knew this was our destination all along.
To my surprise, the area was deserted. Come to think of it, I’d only run into a couple of hikers headed back toward the trailhead since I started the hike.
Odd, but I wasn’t complaining. I couldn’t do people right now.
“Actually, I wanted a paper map,” Maggie added, following Ellie toward the edge of the clearing.
“Land nav nerd. I forgot.”
“Well, I might have to return my expert badge because I left the map in my car, along with the trail mix your dad gave me.”
“Good thing I brought enough to share.”
“Thank you, Luke.”
Such simple words, and yet, they thawed another layer of ice around my heart without even meaning to.
There were still many, many layers to go.
But I felt the difference nonetheless, even if I couldn’t make sense of it.
Miss Mayhem obviously had secrets of her own.
Secrets that should make me apprehensive.
And yet, I couldn’t seem to care about any of that after nearly losing whatever this was between us.
I waited beside her, expecting her to take a few pictures, but instead, Maggie just stood, arms folded, and took in the view as if she had nowhere else to be.
The sun gave her honey-blonde locks a golden hue, and I yearned to run my fingers through them, this time slowly, methodically.
God help me, I wanted a chance to kiss her again.
I waited for the voice in my head to argue with me. To tell me there wouldn’t be a next time because I not only fucked that chance up, but that it was also a terrible idea. Like stepping across enemy lines without an extraction plan.
Quiet.
Huh.
“I won’t judge you if you take pictures,” I said of the lake.
“Really? I thought judgment was your middle name.”
“Funny.”
“Darth Judgment Vader.”
“Why does everyone assume I’m on the dark side?’
“I thought that was obvious.”
“I thought you’ve never seen Star Wars,” I countered.
“I don’t have to see the movies to know who Darth Vader is.”
“I think you do if you’re going to make accusations like that,” I said, full-on grinning.
“My phone died,” she admitted, biting her bottom lip. A dusting of pink colored her cheeks. “I, uh, forgot to charge it before we headed out.” In a mumble under her breath, she added, “Guess I’ve been forgetting a lot of things today.”
“I can take your picture,” I said, pulling my phone from my shirt pocket. “If you want one to share with your sister?”
“Okay,” she said, motioning to Ellie to join her at the edge of the lookout and posing with that radiant smile that came so naturally to her. If she ultimately had to leave, this was exactly how I wanted to remember her.
I snapped half a dozen photos before she said, “Why don’t you get in one of these, too? Ellie only bites if you truly deserve it.” Her eyes sparkled with what I was certain was borderline flirtation. “Considering she hasn’t drawn any blood today, I think you’re safe.”
I almost took the bait. Almost said And what about you, Maggie? When do you bite? Instead, I settled with, “I don’t need a picture.”
Ellie trotted toward me, and I lowered my hand to pet her. But before I could dip my fingers into her fur, she sank her teeth into my sleeve and tugged me, as though she’d understood Maggie. When I hesitated, she pulled harder.
“You’ve forgiven me?” I asked Ellie, skeptical. She stared up at me, and I wished I could read what was in those big brown eyes.
She was the one to track me down on the trail when our paths would otherwise never have crossed, but she was also the one to slam the door in my face last night. I wasn’t sure if I was still on her shit list, but I wasn’t going to give her any reasons to keep me on it, so I shuffled forward.
“She found the treat,” Maggie said, as though in explanation. “In your flannel jacket.”
I’d forgotten about the yogurt-dipped dog treat I picked up from Mountain Creamery. I also forgot Maggie had not one, but two of my flannel jackets.
“It must’ve been a good treat,” I mused, stepping next to Maggie. I resisted the urge to put my arm around her back, and lifted my phone above us. I snapped a couple of photos that I could tell weren’t great, but Maggie yanked my arm down before I could make a third attempt.
“What are those long arms good for if you can’t take a good selfie?” she teased, skimming my work. The pictures I took made Maggie look like a floating head. Ellie wasn’t in them at all. “We should stand a little closer. Act like you don’t hate me.”