“Me? No. That’s all him. He just asked me if an amethyst was a good choice.” She turns it this way and that. “He really pulled out all the stops, didn’t he? I love the silver work.”
“Me too.” Why am I blushing?
Avery backs up with a smile. “So why don’t you come over on Sunday? We’ll have wine and M&M’s, and I’ll walk you through a charging ritual.”
“Okay.” I say before I can second-guess myself. “I’ll bring the M&M’s.”
“Peanut butter and regular.”
“Will do.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
On Saturday morningat nine o’clock sharp, I meet Leo outside Newberry for our hike. He’s perched on a retaining wall, but when he sees me, he rises and smiles, his dark eyes shining and the breeze teasing his hair.
“No hat?” I ask.
“No, but I’ve got gloves in the car.”
“You have a car?” With so little space for parking, it’s rare for students to bring their cars to Brownhill.
“I’m borrowing Avery’s,” he admits. “I thought we’d drive up near the Tennessee border, if that’s okay with you.”
I nod. It sounds more than okay. The further out of town, the fewer the people. Which means more peace and fewer emotions. I have half a mind to ask him to take me all the way to Knoxville.
In the small student lot, he stops alongside a gunmetal grey Volkswagen Jetta. Not a car I would’ve picked out for Avery—too Daddy’s princess—but it’s further confirmation that her family has money. Inside, it smells like patchouli.
Although we’re fewer than ten miles from the state line, it takesus almost twenty minutes of winding alongside the river on a country road to get to our destination. We’re deep in the Pisgah National Forest and when we get out of the car, we’re greeted by the wind in the trees and the sound of rushing water.
As I look out past the lot and through the underbrush, I see white foam and blue ripples. “Is that the French Broad?”
“It’s a tributary.” Leo takes a backpack out of the trunk and slings it over his shoulder. “Snacks and water,” he explains with a smile.
“Animal crackers?”
“Among other things.”
We stop at a National Park Service plaque to consult the map. There’s more than one trail we could hike, but Leo points to the second longest, which is seven miles round trip. “If you’re willing, I’d like to do this one. It’s not too steep and it ends at an old ghost town.”
“Ghost town? Really?” There’s such a thing this side of the Rockies?
Leo’s eyes light up. “It was a mill town that was abandoned in the 1920s. There’s not a lot left, only some chimneys and foundations and stuff, but I still think it would be pretty cool to see it.”
“Okay then, let’s do it.” I can handle seven miles easily, and although the idea of walking around a ghost town spooks me a little, I’m not going to be a party pooper. It’s the middle of the day, we’re outside, and I’m with Leo. I’ll be fine.
And no, I in no way believe in ghosts.
For the first mile or so, we walk at an easy pace, hands stuffed in our coat pockets to shield them from the cold. Dried brown leaves carpet a trail that’s wide enough for us to walk side by side. Only rarely does Leo need to duck to avoid getting clotheslined by low branches. He must be at least six feet tall. And for someone who lives on animal crackers, he’s surprisingly fit and lean. All muscle.
I know because I was pressed against him with my hands on his chest.
I turn away to hide my flaming cheeks and mindlessly snap a half-dead leaf off an obliging tree. When Leo notices it spinning between my fingers, he stops and takes hold of my hand.
“Hey.” He stills me with a soft voice and pleading eyes. “Don’t you think it would be better to leave the leaves on the trees?”
I let out a little laugh. “Yeah. Probably.”
The poor leaf in my hand still has some green in it. I’ve taken it before its time.
