Page 88 of Forest Proximity
“We met for dinner.” He looks at me like I’m especially slow.
“So?”
“I didn’t ask you for a tour. I asked you out.”
“You said, ‘Hey Stevie, want to go Squatch Watching on Saturday night?’” My imitation of his dopey voice isn’t flattering.
He drops his damp towel on the carpet in a pile, plopping on the couch beside Ruth. “I also asked if you wanted to grab dinner.”
Adam clears his throat, turning to his sister. “I think Sammie is ready for bed.” He motions to his niece, who is wide awake. “I’ll help you ... you know.” He stands, and Ruth follows him to the back of the cabin.
Poor Adam. Unexpected house guests must make him so uncomfortable, especially when one of them is Crispin. I appreciate him giving us a minute to sort this out in privacy, though.
I blow out a long breath that makes my lips flap like horse lips. I’m tired. This has been a long night, and it’s not over. “I’m sorry I misunderstood what we were doing tonight.” I’m not ready to apologize for getting us lost in the woods. It’s too much humility at once.
I’m surprised when he shakes his head, looking unbothered. “Not a problem.” He relaxes into the cushions. “I should’ve known.” He pulls out his phone, talking to me without looking at me. “I’ve listened to your podcast,” he says under his breath.
I’m too exhausted to decode. “What?”
“Your whole gimmick—finding Bigfoot before your friends find a boyfriend for you?” He swipes the screen of his phone aggressively. “You’re chasing something that doesn’t exist because you think no man is good enough for you, even though you’re ...” He gestures at me with spindly fingers.
I raise my eyebrows. If he doesn’t believe Bigfoot is out there, then ... Oh, man. Something in his words makes me queasy. I need him to be wrong. “Don’t stop there. Please. Go on,” I challenge him.
“The things you complain about on your podcast—men with bad manners or who don’t notice the small things or who are totally oblivious? You don’t see it?” He grins, waving a hand over me and shaking his head. “I have some bad news for you. You are all of those things. You expect perfection from the men you date, but you’re your own worst nightmare.” He turns back to his phone, then mutters, “Crazy.”
Heat floods through me, washing over my face and making my heart drum. “You know what? I was apologizing. I don’t need a psychoanalysis.” I can’t be around this guy for another minute.I need Adam, but the closest I’ll get is his hammock. I make my way to the covered patio.
Chapter 33
Stevie
It’s fine. Adam is busy with his niece. I’ll call my brothers. One of them will tell me I’m not crazy or oblivious. And my expectationsaren’tunreasonable. Some brotherly love is all I need. I close the door behind me. The rain is still pouring off the roof, but the porch is dry and Adam was nice enough to share his Wi-Fi with me. I make my way to the hammock while I dial Conor.
He doesn’t answer.
I smash the button to end the call before his voicemail picks up. I redial with a huff as I flop onto the hammock, but I miscalculate. Too much of my weight lands on one side, and it swings forward, dumping me out the other side. I land in a heavy pile on the patio, and my phone clatters beside me, still ringing.
I refuse to be defeated by a hammock. After the disastrous night I’ve had, I need a win.
One more try. With my phone propped between my ear and my shoulder, I steady the hammock with my free hand, pivoting my backside to position it in the middle of the mat. I lower myself slowly ... slowly ...
“Sir Steven Shuh!” Conor bellows in my ear.
I startle, dropping onto the mat. This time I cling to the edges, refusing to be bucked by this bronco again. I hurry to center my weight, grunting and twisting until I defeat the hammock with an angry, “Ha!”
I’m winded now.
“Stevie?” Conor asks. “You good?”
The concern coloring his voice makes my throat tight. This night—this month—has been a lot. I’ve needed my brothers. “No.” The word is strangled. My eyes are hot. Oh no.
“Where are you? It sounds loud. Are you okay?”
I’m hiccuping now, gulping down air while I fight sobs. “I’m f—” The words are lodged in my throat. I force myself to take a breath, lowering my voice. “I’m fine. I just needed to talk to you.”
“What’s going on?” he asks, then a dog snarls and barks on his end. A kid screams. “Aw, crap,” he mutters. “Darwin bit Asher. I gotta go.”
Click.
