Page 95 of The Birthday List (Maysen Jar 1)

I opened my mouth to tell Cole my plan, but he talked first. “Can I see your backpack?”

“Sure.” I stripped it off my shoulders and handed it over. There wasn’t much in it, just my canteen and a couple of granola bars.

Cole shoved my boots and my socks into the backpack and then loosened the straps before putting it over his own shoulders.

“I’m going—”

—to need those socks. But before I could get the words out, he scooped me off the ground, bouncing me a bit as he situated me in his arms.

“Cole! What are you doing?”

“Carrying you.”

“You can’t carry me.”

He looked down at me and smiled. “Sure, I can.”

“I’m too heavy.”

“You’re light as a feather, besides, it’s not much farther.”

Not much farther? “It’s miles.” Four point two miles, to be exact.

“It’s just up this incline.” He took a step in the wrong direction. Instead of turning and taking me back down the trail, he started marching forward, carefully navigating the rocky trail as he carried me toward the peak.

“Where are you going?” I squirmed, trying to get down but he just gripped me tighter. “Cole, no! You’ll hurt yourself. It’s too steep.”

He paused and considered my words. “You’re right.” He set me down on my bare feet and unslung the backpack. “Put this on for me, would you?”

“But—”

“Now, Poppy. I want to get back before dark.”

I didn’t argue—I just strapped on the pack. With him carrying me, our descent would be much slower and I didn’t want to delay us getting back on the trail. The last thing I wanted was to be out here at night with the bears.

He tapped his back and crouched. “Climb on.”

“Okay.” With a tiny jump, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. He boosted me higher so his arms were cupped underneath my knees.

“Are you good?” When I hummed an uh-huh, he took a step, again in the wrong direction.

“Cole, what are you doing? We need to turn back.” I swung an arm behind us, in the direction we were supposed to be going.

“Hold still, Poppy.” He took another step. “And clamp tight with your legs.”

“Cole,” I pleaded. “It’s too much. Turn around.”

He ignored me, moving forward on the trail without so much as a backward glance or a labored breath.

“Please?” I whispered into his hair.

“Not a chance. Just hold tight.”

No amount of pleading or begging would change his mind so I stayed quiet, doing what he’d asked. I clamped my legs tight and did my best to hold still, making it as easy as possible for him to get up the trail.

Which he did. He carried me up the trail and right to the shore of the icy mountain lake.

Cole set me down on my bare feet and stepped behind me to open the backpack and dig out my canteen. As the cold from the ground seeped into my aching feet, dulling some of the pain, he took a long drink of water. Then he put the canteen back and stood at my side, staring out to the lake.