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Little by little, he drags the huge tree. Splinters crack off the base and tumble across the road. He side-steps, hauling it inch by inch, until at last it’s parallel to the road. A battle cry tears from his throat as he forces it the last few inches. Then he collapses against the barrier, his head hitting the cold iron with a dull thud.

“Holy shit,” Erica whispers. “How did he do that?”

I don’t answer. I’m watching him breathe—slow and heavy, his chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon uphill. My throat is dry and tight.

“Thank you,” I say, louder than I expect, my voice cutting through the thick silence. I step backward instinctively, needing space.

“Oh no, no, no.” Erica’s voice turns sly. She grabs onto my arm holding me in place. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“What?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off of Ray.

“That’s not how you thank a man who just moved a goddamn tree for you.”

“Then you thank him.”

“Nope.” She smirks. “This one’s all yours. It’s the right thing to do—and you know it, Red.”

God I hate it when she’s right.

Rolling my shoulders, I straighten and approach. Ray remains sitting on the ground, sweat glistening on his forehead andsoaking into the collar of his shirt. I stop a few feet away, unsure of what I’m going to say until the words tumble out.

“I don’t know how you got here, but… you were very helpful. We’d probably be hiking our way to Dawson if it weren’t for you.”

He looks up, breathing heavily as he meets my eyes. A smirk plays over his lips, not quite forming.

“Want to know the truth?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Take a seat,” he says, patting the gravel next to him.

I hesitate, then sink down slowly, careful to keep some distance between us.

“I’m all ears, Mr. Crawford. How did you magically show up in the middle of nowhere? Divine intervention?”

“Witch’s intervention,” he says, wiping his brow with the back of his arm. “Helena showed me your problem in her orb. She’s nosy like that.”

I blink. “Helena?”

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug.

He isn’t looking at me, staring across the road. Erica goes to her car and climbs in, giving us some semblance of privacy. Great. Thanks for the backup.

“I’ll have to thank her,” I say, watching him out of the corner of my eye but not looking at him directly. If I do, I’ll do something stupid. Something I’ll regret.

“Look, I’m… I’m sorry,” he says, turning toward me. “For what I did. At the party. I was an ass. No excuses.”

His voice is quieter and edged with something raw. There is a note of vulnerability and regret I’ve never heard from him before. I don’t expect it to sting, but it does.

“I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine,” I say softly, turning to face him. “I shouldn’t have slapped you. You were a jerk, yeah. But I let anger win too, and that’s not fair either.”

“Apology accepted,” he says immediately.

We sit in awkward silence for a beat, then two.

“Would you like to go out… with me?”

The question hangs in the air. Heavy. Raw. Real. I raise an eyebrow.