Page 24 of Catching the Mistletoe

He laughed again and I couldn’t hold back my smile.

“You feel like maybe you can sleep now?”

I thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I do, actually. Thanks.” Still smiling, I got to my feet and held my hand out for his empty mug. He gave it to me, his eyes holding mine, the amusement still lurking there. I felt my heart do a slow rollover, and I turned away, worried he might see the emotions I was finding harder and harder to hide.

* * *

Hours later, I woke up feeling like I’d been wrestling with my pillow all night, even though the RV was parked in a spot so tranquil you could hear a pine needle drop. My eyes felt gritty, my body heavy. It was that unsatisfying grogginess you get when you know you’ve slept, but it doesn’t feel like it counted.

The light filtering through the window was soft, the kind that promised a beautiful day in Yosemite. And yet, here I was, stuck in this shitty fog. Rolling over, I caught sight of the oven clock. Early, but not ungodly so. A decent time to start the day, if my body would just get on board with the idea.

As I lay there, tangled in the blankets, I thought about last night. The way Mack had looked making tea, the uh, moment with the book. That was funny, even if I was still mortified by it. It was a little nugget of light in my otherwise muddled morning. But even that couldn’t shake the heavy feeling clinging to me.

I sighed, pushing myself up to a sitting position. There was no point in lingering in bed, not when it felt like I was marinating in my own restlessness. So, I swung my legs over the side, my feet hitting the plush carpet, and stood up.

I headed to the kitchenette to start the coffee and just as I was debating between scrambled eggs or yogurt for breakfast, the slide of the bedroom door caught my attention. Out stepped Mack, his hair tousled in that just-woke-up way, wearing a plain white tee that looked criminally good on him.

My first instinct was to plaster a cheerful, ‘morning person’ smile on my face. You know, the kind that says, “Who, me? I slept like a baby, thanks!” But one look at his scrutinizing gaze, and I knew that act wasn’t going to fly. Mack had this way of looking at you like he could see your Internet search history.

“You okay?” His voice was laced with a concern that did funny things to my insides.

So much for being an enigma. My face was basically a Times Square billboard broadcasting, ‘Slept like trash, feel like trash.’ I sighed, admitting defeat. “You could say that. I’m usually not this...unsettled.”

And just like that, the room shifted. He knew something was up; I knew he knew, and now we were both stuck in this awkward dance of ‘do we talk about it or not?’

“Evelyn sent a text.”

“Oh?” Looks like we weren’t going to talk about it then.

“They won’t be here ‘til around lunchtime. So, how ‘bout a hike after breakfast?”

Well, that was cute. He wasn’t brushing me off, after all.

He also wasn’t gonna make me talk about it, which was good. Fuck, a hike sounded so good right now. All that fresh air, and nature, and shit. Maybe it would give me a chance to figure out what the fuck was wrong with me. Plus, if Mack took the lead, I’d get a good eye full of his…

“That sounds perfect,” I said, feeling the first real smile of the day stretch across my face. “Let’s do it.”

Breakfast was a quick affair. Mack looked through a Yosemite guidebook while I scrambled some eggs and popped bread into the toaster. After we cleaned up, it was time to get dressed for this hike. I pulled on thermal leggings, a long-sleeve top, and a fleece. Beanie on, gloves on, boots on. Mack had on rugged pants and a hoodie, his boots looking like they’d seen a few trails.

“Ready?” he asked, grabbing a couple of backpacks, shoving two bottles of water in them and some protein bars he found in the small pantry cupboard.

“Yeah,” I said, feeling the edge of anticipation. We stepped out into the crisp Yosemite morning, ready for whatever the trail had for us.

The morning air had a bite to it, but the sun was trying its hardest to throw out a bit of warmth. We walked out of the campground and hit the trail, the ground crunching beneath our boots. The sky was clear, a sharp shade of blue that looked almost painted. The trail was framed by massive pine trees, their needles forming a soft carpet underfoot. Patches of sunlight filtered through the canopy, creating dappled patterns on the ground.

As we walked, the world seemed to open up around us. The towering trees gave way to rolling meadows filled with tall grasses and wildflowers that had managed to hang on despite the approaching winter. We passed by a bubbling stream, its waters so clear they looked like liquid glass.

Mack led the way, setting a brisk pace but never rushing. He didn’t say much, and for once, I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. The quiet was its own kind of conversation, and I really liked that. I felt the haggard tension I’d been carrying fall away, giving a lightness to my steps that almost had me skipping.

As we climbed, the terrain began to change. The soft earth of the trail turned rocky, and I found myself having to watch my step more carefully. After what felt like ages but was probably only a couple of hours, we reached a lookout point.

And what a sight it was. “Wow.” I came to stand next to Mack, feeling his warmth, leaning into it subconsciously.

The world spread out before us, a panoramic postcard—endless sky, rugged mountain peaks, and far below, the deep green expanse of Yosemite Valley. I felt on top of the world, both literally and figuratively. A sense of accomplishment mixed with awe filled me, and I let out a laugh of sheer exhilaration.

Almost bouncing with the energy that suddenly filled me, I stepped up on a rock and raised my arms high, wriggling my fingers as I felt the air rush through them. Lowering my arms, I turned to smile at Mack. “I could use a drink.” Just as I went to step down, my foot slipped on the mossy rock and I gasped, flailing my arms to balance myself. But it was no good. I was gonna fall.

Until Mack stepped forward and grabbed me, steadying me with his hands on my waist.

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