Page 23

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The path on the other side of the river is definitely a challenge, but it’s also more scenic.

The leaves and underbrush are lush and vibrant, the greens rich and the browns warm.

A chilly breeze nips my skin as the river rushes past in streams of gray and white—a fitting backdrop for my restless thoughts.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to go back to my regular life. To classes or to Zander and O-Chi. To routine concerns like what sweater goes with which jeans or what to eat at the dining hall. Nothing is as it was and I suddenly feel like I don’t fit anywhere—except here. And except with Leo.

“You okay back there?” he asks.

I nearly barrel into him before I notice he’s stopped walking. “I’m fine. I’m just?—”

“Thinking?”

“Yeah.” Thinking. About my whole life, on each side of now.

In retrospect, I wonder if all those times I thought I was suffering from a panic attack or a wave of depression were my clairsentience instead, picking up emotions from the past. I wish I could remember them all.

How often have I passed through the space where a car wreck had occurred, or sat at a restaurant table where a marriage-ending argument took place?

Leo leans close. “Give it time, Betts. You’re not going to have it all figured out in one afternoon.”

Sure I will, I just need to think even harder.

I can’t spend the rest of my life worrying that, at any time, I could walk into some random energy field and collapse under a barrage of emotions.

Obviously, my amethyst isn’t strong enough to absorb the intense stuff.

Maybe I should try medication. How much Prozac would it take to numb me to that logging accident?

Leo steers me up beside him, showing me the steep bank ahead with its narrow path of jutting stones. “The trail looks pretty treacherous.”

I smile sheepishly. “So make sure I’m paying attention?”

He smiles back. “If you don’t want to twist an ankle.”

“Will do.” I sigh and rub my forehead with my gloved hand.

As we carefully navigate the dusty, uneven rocks, Leo identifies trees for me. He’s trying to distract me and I appreciate it. I now know what a blackberry bush, a sycamore, and an alder look like. If the trail were less precarious, I would pause to take pictures with my phone.

I’m busy pondering the risks of eating wild berries when he abruptly stops and throws out an arm, trapping me against the rocky bank. “Okay.” He chews his lip. “This is gonna take some thought.”

“What?” I stretch my neck out just far enough to see past him. The path ahead is barely wide enough for one person. And even then, it would be best to traverse it sideways.

“We could go up,” he proposes, surveying the steep slope.

There’s no way I could climb that, not without branches or rocks to grab onto and pull myself up with. I shake my head.

“I agree.” He exhales, resigned. “Okay. Gloves off and hold on to me.”

We both stash our gloves in our coat pockets and I grab his hand. Tightly. With my back against the bank, I’m looking right down into the river. It’s not far. Falling into it wouldn’t kill us. At worst, we might break a bone. The real threat is hypothermia.

Leo tugs on my hand and I will myself to focus. At a painstakingly slow pace, we inch and scoot our way along at least a hundred yards of trail. I lose my footing only once, and not so badly that Leo isn’t able to steady me with his free hand.

When I notice him edging precariously close to the ledge, I scold him, “Get back. I don’t need you to fall.”

“Better me than you.”

“No way.” I know from experience he could carry me the entire way to the car. I, however, would have to go get help, leaving him at the mercy of the bears and copperheads.

“I promised you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s very gallant, but in this situation, it’s impractical.”

“Too bad,” he chuckles. “I’m not letting you fall.”

“Well, since you insist on being a hero, I guess I should warn you that I can’t swim.” I press my weight to the slope behind me as I peer down at the racing river.

Leo stops scooting. “At all?”

“Maybe a little bit of a doggie paddle. And only because I hate the water so much that I just want to get out of it.”

I may be from a family of great swimmers, but when I’m immersed in a body of water, I feel like I’m suffocating.

The water pressure squeezes me, like hands trying to pull me under.

Last summer, poor Zander was so excited for me to come down to his parents’ house in Nags Head, but he couldn’t get me to go into the ocean.

He’d try to carry me out into the surf, but as soon as I felt the cold water hit my butt, I clung to him and begged him to turn around.

Not wanting to disappoint him, I let him make it into a game, and to his credit, he never let me fall in. But I was terrified the whole time.

“You’re not falling into the river,” Leo assures me. And himself. And the gods. “I promise.”

Normally, I’d reprimand someone for making a promise like that. But not Leo. He means it and I believe him. Though I don’t understand why.

I take a long, slow inhale, breathing in the sharp scent of damp earth and leaves, and keep shuffling along beside him. Finally, the bank levels out below us. With only a short hop down, we’ll be on a flat path again.

Unfortunately, in true Betts Peterson fashion, I way underestimate the height of that hop and the safe speed at which to take it.

I hit the ground too fast, my momentum sending me hurtling toward a tree.

Leo jumps in front of me just as I’m about to hit it, causing me to smack into his chest instead.

I squeak out an “ow” as he steadies me.

He chuckles and tips back my head. “Where’d you hit?”

“Here.” I rub the front corner of my skull. It hurts, but not as badly as the tree trunk would have.

He examines me, brushing gentle fingers over the site, even though there probably isn’t anything to see yet.

Meanwhile, it’s his chest I’m worried about. I lay a hand on it, guessing at the point of impact. “You’re going to have a bruise.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Betts,” he smiles. “I’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For catching me.”

“I have a promise to keep.” His voice is soft, and I swear he’s closer than he was a moment ago.

He still has one arm around me, and I can feel his body against mine, even through our thick coats.

I dare myself to look directly into his eyes, swallowing hard when I realize he’s looking intensely back at me.

That was a mistake, because now I’m trapped in his gaze.

His dark irises sparkle rose-gold. Is it the sunlight?

The exercise? The cold has nipped his nose and cheeks, turning them pink.

I curl my hands tightly in my gloves to keep from touching him.

To keep from tracing the dip below his cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw.

He draws a hand up my back .

Neither of us blinks.

And all of a sudden, he’s not holding me anymore. Instead, he moistens his lips and looks over his shoulder at the path. “Should be an easy walk from here on,” he says, voice gruff.

I nod and clear my throat. With my arms wrapped tightly around me, I follow him until the trail widens enough that we can walk side by side.

Even then, we avoid one another’s eyes. We both know what almost happened.

I should be relieved that it didn’t, but honestly, part of me is disappointed.

A disappointment that needs stashed away in the don’t-even-entertain-that-idea folder.

Because yeah, maybe in the moment, I wanted to kiss him. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t. And obviously he knows better than to kiss me.

We passed the test. We can be friends without worrying about crossing that line.

Which is good, because the truth is, I need Leo’s friendship.

He, Avery, and Aaron are probably the only people I know who understand what it’s like to be psychic, and only Leo witnessed what I went through near that bridge today. I want—no, I need —him in my life.

While we finish out our hike, he resumes his trail guide role, pointing out more trees and identifying a bird or two. Between sightings, we debate which is better: Shakespeare’s comedies or his tragedies? Christmas or Halloween? A latte or a shaken espresso?

On the drive home, I struggle to stay awake. It’s not until he parks the car and turns off the engine that I snap out of my daze. I rub my eyes as I gaze out over campus, wondering how we got here so fast.

Leo grins. “Good morning.”

I stretch and fight back a yawn. “Did I fall asleep?”

“I think so.”

“Too much fresh air.”

“How’s your head?”

“Fine.” I poke around the top of my forehead, but I can’t find the burgeoning bruise. I give up and ask him how his chest is feeling.

He flattens a hand on his sternum and doubles over in agony.

“You’re a worse actor than a Brazilian soccer player,” I laugh. As I gather up my gloves and hat, I tell him, “You don’t have to walk me back.” It’s broad daylight and not far to my dorm.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He angles himself to face me. “Are you going to be okay?”

I press my palm to my injury—still no pain.

“Not your head.” He removes my hand. “I’m talking about the logging accident.”

Oh, that. “I don’t know.” Maybe if I’m lucky, I can stuff the incident deep in the back of my mind.

Until it happens again.

“I meant what I said. I’ll help you.”

“I know.” I notice he’s threaded his fingers through mine. And it feels surprisingly natural.

“Make sure you and Avery charge your amethyst.”

“That’s the plan.” I look down at our linked hands and ask, “You’re not going to disappear for a whole week again, are you?”

He smiles. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t.”

“Then I won’t.”

I squeeze his hand before I slip free and climb out of the car.