Page 20

“All the time.” I feel for it under my sweatshirt, but it’s slid around my neck and is trapped under my shoulder.

“Did you charge it?”

“Not yet. Avery’s going to help me with it tomorrow. ”

“Good. Do you think it’s helping you any?”

“I don’t know.” But I’ve found comfort in its presence, if only because of who gave it to me. “It’s been kind of a stressful week. Not the best for a trial run, you know?” I twist my neck but all I can see is the top of Leo’s head, his windblown hair close enough to graze my forehead.

“Because of your parents or because of your boyfriend?”

“Both,” I admit.

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

“With Zander?” I’m glad we can’t see one another’s faces.

“Yeah.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He sighs his disagreement. “Is he—can I ask—are you safe with him?”

My face burns hot. “Yeah. He’s never laid a hand on me.”

“Okay, good. I just needed to know that.”

It’s hard for me to swallow around the huge wad of emotion stuck in my throat. I picture Leo standing firm against Zander’s threats, refusing to leave until I assure him I’ll be okay. I think he might genuinely care about my well-being.

He asks, “What happened with your parents?”

“Nothing major. Just your usual stuff. They want things for me I don’t want, blah, blah, blah.”

He laughs softly. “Parents are the same everywhere, aren’t they?”

“Are Pennsylvania parents as bad as Virginia parents?”

“Maybe even worse.”

“Why? What’s going on with yours?”

I feel him moving and tip my head back to see him sitting up.

“It’s my father mostly,” he says. “He doesn’t like the idea of his son being a scholar.”

“Really?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.”

I push up onto my hands and spin on my rear end. “My mother’s sort of the same way and it makes no sense. Don’t all parents want their kids to do well in school?”

“I suppose not.”

I take off my glove to feel around for the amethyst, wincing when my icy fingers touch my bare neck.

Leo gives me a sympathetic smile. As I spin the pendant around to my chest and drop it back under the collar of my coat, I tell him about the fight between Liv and her parents, normal parents who care about their child’s academic success.

But it’s not the parent-child relationship he focuses on. “You felt the tension?”

Did I mention that? I suppose I must have.

“Yeah. It was thick. I felt like I needed a machete to get down the hall.” I curl one leg under me and let the other dangle over the side of the tree trunk. “Was that clairsentience, or was it empathy? I’m still struggling with the difference.”

Leo props an elbow on his upraised knee. “Well, you didn’t know the source of what you were feeling, so yes, I’d say that’s clairsentience.”

“But I guessed it almost as soon as I felt it.”

He wears that half-smile he often does when I’m being argumentative. “But you felt it first.”

True.

“Just like you felt your boyfriend’s anger before you heard him or saw him.”

I replay that moment in the O-Chi kitchen. It’s hazy now, but I think Leo may be right. I wasn’t startled by Zander’s shouting, I was already bracing for it.

I free my amethyst from my coat. “Once I charge this, will I not feel that kind of stuff anymore?” Please, please say yes.

Unfortunately, Leo shakes his head. “You will. But not as strongly and not for as long.”

Okay, so the amethyst will just take the edge off, like ibuprofen dulls a headache. That’s something, at least .

Leo leans in to study the stone up close, twisting it between his finger and thumb. “Your psychic ability is a gift, Betts. You don’t want to make it go away.”

“But…” I turn away from his dark eyes. They see too much.

“But what?” he urges softly.

I shake my head. But everything .

He sweeps back the curtain of hair I’m trying to hide behind.

“Why can’t I feel good things?” I sigh. “Why is it always rage and fear and stuff like that? Why not happiness and love and…peacefulness…and…” Shit, what other good feelings are there? I don’t even know.

“Maybe you do feel them,” Leo thoughtfully replies. “But I think, like everyone else, you’re a lot more likely to take those good feelings for granted.”

And to hardly notice them. What a sad commentary on the human condition.

I think he can tell I need a change of subject, because he slides to the ground and hands me his backpack. In a blink, he’s up on the tree again, offering me a bottle of water. He also unpacks trail mix and, of course, the animal crackers.

I stash my gloves in my coat pockets and pour a handful of the trail mix into my palm. It’s the good kind, the kind that’s more of a treat than a health food. I eat the nuts first and save the chocolate chips for dessert.

While we enjoy our picnic, I ask him to tell me more about the Lost Colony.

His eyes brighten and he sits a little straighter. “Did you know there were Europeans out here in the mid 1500s, before the English came to Roanoke?”

“Out here where?”

“Here.” He waves a hand at our surroundings.

“Out here in the mountains?” No way.

When Leo nods, I ask, “Why?” They would’ve landed on the coast, almost five hundred miles away. Why make the effort to come this far inland? It’s not as though it’s easy terrain to traverse.

“It was the Spanish. They thought Mexico was just on the other side.” He points west.

I giggle as I crunch a peanut. “So they thought the Appalachians were the Rockies?”

“Yep.” He laughs with me. “And they wanted to build a line of outposts from coast to coast. To keep out the French.”

“Did they actually build any?”

“Six of them. And about ten years ago, archeologists found one. In Morganton.”

“Really?” I’m shocked. Morganton is only about an hour east of Asheville. “Why does no one know this?” I don’t remember learning about it in school.

Leo shrugs as he unfolds his legs and straddles the tree. “The forts didn’t last long. Only about a year and a half.”

“Let me guess, the soldiers pissed off the Native Americans?”

“Royally. They claimed their land, and their food, and their women.”

I sigh.

Leo says, “The Native Americans attacked and destroyed all six forts.”

Good. “How long before Roanoke was this?”

“About twenty years. And after that, the Spanish didn’t venture this far north again.”

“Thus opening the way for the English.”

Leo nods and smiles.

Maybe I’m worthy of conversing with an intellectual after all.

I wipe my crumb-dusted hands on my jeans while Leo packs away our water bottles.

Insisting I stay put, he hops to the ground.

I could easily get down by myself, but he’s looking up at me with those beautiful brown eyes, waiting to help me.

So I let him. I slide off the fallen tree and right into his arms. He holds me until I’m steady and then for a moment more—until I’m no longer aware of anything but his body in front of me and the trunk at my back.

We’re perfectly positioned for a kiss, and I’m appalled to realize that I want it.

I think Leo does too, because his eyes dilate before he clenches his jaw and lets go of me—like I’m on fire.

He swipes his backpack off the ground and heads up the path. I follow in silence, willing my wayward imagination back into line. He’s just a friend.

Just a friend, just a friend, just a friend.