Starry Eyes(74)

She sighs. “But you are being smart, right?”

“As smart as possible. I swear on my backpack.”

“Oh, good. Okay. All right.” I can hear the relief in her voice. “Hives?”

“Under control.”

“Thank goodness. You have plenty of food?”

“Yep. Still have your emergency money too.”

She pauses. “Are you having fun?”

I glance back at Lennon. He’s several inches taller than the ranger is, and is now pointing out a location on a laminated map on the desk. He is insanely good-looking. I don’t think I allowed myself to think about that too much over the last year, but I’m thinking it now, and it’s making my stomach flutter. That voice, those lips, that— “Zorie?”

Oh, crap. “What? Oh, um, yeah. I’m having fun.” A snake bite, a bear, and the greatest kiss of my life. “I’m sore from hiking, and I need a shower, but it’s really pretty out here.”

“I’m so glad. That’s terrific,” she says, sounding happy. I like it when she’s happy. She deserves someone better than my shitty father. Lennon’s story about the hotel pierces my thoughts, and the weight of this secret affair is becoming heavier and heavier. But I’m still too much of a coward to tell her about my dad. I can’t do it on the phone, not like this. I’m scared of hurting her, but I’m even more terrified of losing her. So I just tell her what day I’ll be at Condor Peak and assure her once more that everything’s fine.

I’m a selfish, selfish person.

“Baby?” she says, her voice taking on a different tone. “Do you have anything else you need to tell me?”

My pulse increases. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you know I don’t like secrets.”

“I know.”

“And when people keep them, it’s usually for a bad reason.”

Oh, God. Does she know I’m here with Lennon? Or is she talking about my dad’s affair? She couldn’t be. I’m paranoid.

“I know that sometimes it seems like . . .” She pauses. “Zorie, I care about you more than you can fathom. But . . .”

“But what?” Why is there a but?

“I just want you to know that you can tell me anything,” she says more firmly.

“I know that.”

“Okay, that’s all.”

That’s all? What is going on? Why is she being so cryptic? Maybe I should tell her about Lennon. But if I do, I’m worried she’ll tell my dad, and they’ll drive out here and make me come home. I made up my mind already. I know it took me forever, but now that I’ve decided, I really don’t want to go back to Melita Hills.

I hate lying to her.

But I want to stay here with Lennon.

Why can’t this be easier?

The phone is playing some prerecorded message in the background, telling me to deposit more money. “I don’t have any more quarters, so I’ve got to go,” I tell her. “But I just wanted to check in and tell you that I’m safe, and that . . . well, like I said, I have a really good trail guide out here. So you don’t have to worry.”

“Wait! When will you get to Condor Peak?”

“Day after tomorrow. Late.”

“Promise me that you’ll text when you get there.”

“I promise. And I love you.”

“I love you too, sweet thing.” She sounds sad. Or disappointed? “And I miss you. Please stay safe.”

Ugh. She’s breaking my heart. And I don’t even get to say anything else, because the pay phone finally realizes I’m not putting more money inside it and cuts me off. I hang up and lay my forehead against the receiver.

“Everything okay?” Lennon says in a low voice near my shoulder.

“I think so. Hope so.”

“What did you decide?”

I turn around and absently scratch my arm. “I hope you haven’t changed your mind about taking me to Condor Peak, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He sighs. Twice. On a third sigh, his hand tentatively reaches toward the side of my face, and he gently pushes an errant curl out of my eyes, fingers lingering. “I’m glad. Really glad.”

“You are?”

“I am. No presumptions made. I’m not booking us a hotel room, or anything.”

I groan softly, a little embarrassed.

“Too soon?” he says with the hint of a smile.

I shake my head and smile back.

His hand drops from my hair, and a moment of awkward silence passes before I speak again, attempting to move the focus away from the heavy topic of us. “I’m worried that I should have told Mom about the lady you saw last year at the hotel with my father. And about the photo book. I just couldn’t.”

“It’s probably for the best. Some things you just don’t want to say over the phone, believe me. Like, Hey, I’m an idiot who tried to get a hotel room because I have no clue about how to have a relationship, and, oh yeah, I punched your father, and we’re not allowed to see each other. You know, things like that.”

I chuckle a little.

“I still don’t,” he whispers.

“Don’t what?” I whisper back.