Page 38 of Her Ohio Old Flame

A hawk soared overhead, its cry slicing through the quiet. Zane followed the bird with his gaze, his expression one of quiet admiration.

The moment slipped away, and Asha decided against shattering his peace. Instead, she took a sip of water, letting the opportunity fade like the hawk into the horizon.

After a few more moments of quiet, Zane nudged her gently. “Ready to keep going?” he asked softly, as if unwilling to disturb the view’s tranquility.

Asha nodded and pushed herself to her feet. The trail’s descent was steep enough to make her thighs burn with each step. She kept her focus on the path ahead, placing her feet deliberately over roots and loose stones. Zane slowed his pace to match hers, but even with his effort to walk deliberately, his longer legs and steady strides made the effort seem effortless.

She watched how he navigated the terrain with a natural ease, and his breathing was as even as if he was walking on a sidewalk. Her chest tightened, the words she’d held onto since the ridge bubbling to the surface again. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught as her lungs begged for air. Two hours a week on a treadmill in Columbus had done little to prepare her for this. Asha shut her mouth again, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

The faint rush of water grew louder with each step, urging her tired legs onward. Her breaths came shallow now, the weight of the incline settling deep in her thighs. As she was about to ask if they could pause for a moment, Zane stopped ahead of her. He turned, offering her that easy, reassuring smile she could feel down to her toes.

“Here’s the spot.” He gestured toward a narrow trail branching off to the right. It dipped slightly, framed by rocks speckled with moss and ferns that stretched toward the sun. The babble of the creek grew stronger, and Asha could just make out the shimmer of sunlight bouncing off the water through the trees.

Relief coursed through her. “Thank God,” she muttered. Although she kept her voice low, Zane chuckled as if he’d heard her.

“Come on.” He extended his hand.

She hesitated for a heartbeat before placing hers in his. His grip was warm and steady, and though she didn’t need the help, she didn’t pull away. Together, they navigated the narrow trail until the creek came into view.

The sight stopped her mid-step.

The water, impossibly clear, tumbled over smooth stones, its sound both soothing and powerful as it carved its way through the earth. Sunlight danced on the rippling surface, tiny sparks of gold that seemed to weave their way through the air itself. The damp, cool breeze carried the clean scent of flowing water and rich earth, wrapping her in ease.

Asha closed her eyes for a moment, breathing it all in. Something about the creek—the way it flowed so freely, unbothered by obstacles, always finding a way forward—resonated deep within her. It was as if it was speaking directly to the tight knot of fear and guilt she’d been carrying for so long.

The shame that had clung to her for years, that had twisted her perception of herself and her choices, felt lighter here, as if the creek’s constant, unrelenting flow could erode the edges of her self-doubt, washing them away with each gentle ripple. Maybe, just maybe, she could find her way forward, too.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, her voice quiet but steadier than it had been in days.

Zane slung the backpack off his shoulder and set it on the ground. “Let’s take a breather and get set up. You fish much?”

She shook her head, tearing her gaze away from the water to watch him. “Not really. I mean, I went once or twice with Dad, but it’s been years.”

“Well,” Zane said, holding up a rod with a grin, “today’s the day you get reacquainted.”

He crouched beside her, explaining the basics with a patience that tugged at something deep inside her. She followed his instructions, trying to focus on the feel of the rod in her hands instead of the overwhelming urge to release the words trapped in her throat.

“Here,” he said. His hands, warm and sure, wrapped over hers on the fishing rod. “You want to hold it like this—let the line feed out nice and smooth.”

The breath tickled her ear, and she swallowed against the flutter it caused in her chest. “Got it,” she murmured.

He stepped back, his approving smile sparking a strange mixture of confidence and nervousness in her. She cast the line as he’d shown her, watching as the lure arched through the air and splashed into the shimmering water.

“Not bad,” Zane said, leaning on his walking stick like an Appalachian prince surveying his kingdom. His gorgeous eyes flickered with amusement as they followed the bobber floating downstream.

The rhythmic burble of the creek, mingled with the occasional hum of insects, created a soothing backdrop as they stood side by side. Asha’s shoulders relaxed, the knot of tension she’d carried for days loosening bit by bit.

“I’ve missed this,” Zane said after a while, sounding almost reflective.

“Missed what?” She glanced at him from under the brim of her baseball cap.

“Being out here.” His gaze was distant for a moment. “Sharing this with someone who gets it.”

Her breath caught at his words. The pang in her chest was sharp and immediate, threading guilt through her contentment.He deserves to know.He deserves the truth.

The words hovered on her tongue, a delicate balance of fear and determination. She glanced at him again, watching how the sunlight played over his features, the strong line of his jaw, the ease in his stance. Zane was everything stable, everything good, and she was about to shatter that calm with the weight of her past.

Before she could gather her courage, the rod jerked violently.

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