Page 27 of Fade With Me

Once we finished our ice cream, we strolled back toward the restaurant, our pace slow and unhurried,savoring the peace of the evening. The stars twinkled above us, casting a soft glow over the world while the streetlights painted long shadows at our feet.

“What’s your schedule like over the next few weeks?” Zeke asked, his hands casually tucked in his pockets as he walked with an easy, relaxed stride. “I’d love to lock in a day for hiking before we head out.”

“I’m on strike from the diner,” I said, a hint of defiance in my tone. “Well…more like I’m on strike from Sal, but that’s a whole other story.” I rolled my eyes to make my point. “So, my schedule’s pretty open right now.”

His expression instantly brightened, a spark of excitement flickering in his eyes as he spun to face me, his movement so quick it nearly collided with mine. “Oh, perfect!” he exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious. “Then let’s go tomorrow.”

A low, amused sound escaped me at his over-the-top delivery. “That should work. We can meet at the same spot. It’s right across from Dead Man’s Trail.”

“Great. I’ll be there at 8:00 AM,” he replied, his voice bright with energy. A mischievous glint lit up his eyes. “And we’re definitely revisiting that Sal situation tomorrow. I expect all the juicy details.”

“You’re such a gossip,” I said, laughing as I gave him a gentle push.

“Hey, come on. It’s just us girls here,” he said with a wink, pausing for dramatic effect. With an exaggerated flourish, he tossed his nonexistent hair over hisshoulder, his goofy grin spreading wide. “A little drama’s just entertainment, that’s all,” he added, batting his lashes with mock innocence.

I shot him a sidelong glance, the corners of my mouth lifting despite myself. I shook my head, a quiet chuckle slipping out.

When we reached the restaurant, the parking lot was still packed with cars, Zeke’s BMW parked in a prime spot up front.

“Let me walk you to your car,” he offered, squinting as he surveyed the crowded space. “Where’d you park?”

I waved him off, trying to shoo him away. “No need. I’m all the way in the back. Go ahead and take off. But thanks for offering.”

Zeke’s expression turned stubborn. “Nonsense, I’ll walk you,” he said, already heading for the far end of the lot.

I quickly jumped in front of him, forcing a smile that was more awkward than convincing. “No, seriously. It’s fine. You don’t have to.”

He hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. “Alright, if you insist.” Then, with a playful grin, he held out his fist for our usual handshake.

I stared at it. “Are we really going to do this every time?”

His expression turned downright triumphant. “Every. Single. Time.”

After our quick fist bump and a few final goodbyes, Zeke slid into his car and sped off into the night. The roar of his engine gradually faded, marking the end of an evening that would linger in my memory forever.

ten

Ilaunched into a frantic search through my room, sifting through the mess until I spotted my trusty hiking pants hidden beneath the dresser. I pulled them on quickly, then gathered my unruly hair into a messy bun, stray strands framing my face in an endearingly haphazard way.

As I headed down the stairs, Reggie’s voice cut through the stillness. “Hey, Brynie. Rise and shine!”

Why was he up so early? The sun hadn’t even fully risen, and yet there he was,already awake. I had planned on slipping out unnoticed, but Reggie’s early start had completely derailed that idea.

I stepped into the kitchen, and everything clicked. He was still in the same clothes from yesterday, clearly just stumbling in from wherever he'd been.

He raised an eyebrow, sizing me up. “Where you headed? Not working today?”

I kept my tone light. “Nah, taking a mental health day. Gonna hit the trails and clear my head. I need a break from Sal’s antics.”

Reggie grinned and tossed an arm over my shoulders. “Don’t sweat it, Brynie girl. Sal’s got a wild imagination. He probably just made all that up. I had a word with him—he should be cooling off now.”

I paused, trying to gauge if he was being sincere, but he seemed surprisingly earnest.

“Need me to make breakfast before I leave?”

He grimaced, like the very idea of food disgusted him. “God, no. Just thinking about it makes me sick. I’m going to crash,” he groaned, clutching his stomach like it was in agony, a perfect picture of a night gone too far.

I bit my tongue, deciding not to comment on his state. “Alright, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

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