Page 242 of Better When Shared
I smirked at him. “Both of us were there for that kiss a moment ago, jackass. I know how you respond to me.”
He groaned, rolling his eyes, and turned and walked away. But he didn’t argue with me.
Chapter 8
Kiaan
I placed the last sandwich into my backpack and surveyed my handiwork. All of Skylar’s favorites, at least according to what she’d shared over the years. The preparation hadn’t been complicated, but I was still nervous about her liking it, and my hands trembled slightly as I thought about spending the day alone with Skylar.
After yesterday’s unexpected kiss with Ryker and the confusion that followed, I needed time alone with Skylar. Time to understand what was happening between all of us, to lay my feelings bare somewhere away from the tiny house that felt suffocating with possibility and tension.
Ryker had given me a knowing nod before heading out to help Makai with some project at the main house, leaving me alone in Skylar’s kitchen. The easy way he’d stepped back, no jealousy or competitiveness in his eyes, only made the memory of his lips against mine more confusing.
I tucked a thermos of hot tea into my backpack just as Skylar emerged from her bedroom, pushing her glasses up on her nose.
“So, this picnic,” she said, gesturing at my preparations. “Where are we going?”
I closed the backpack. “That’s up to you. I want to see your favorite place on the island—somewhere that matters to you.”
Something softened in her expression. “You really want to see that?”
“I’ve spent eight years hearing you talk about this island. Show me the part of it that’s most you.”
She bit her lip, considering. “Okay. There’s a trail I love that we don’t even have to drive to. But you’ll need better shoes. And a warmer jacket.”
Twenty minutes later, we were hiking up a narrow trail that wound through dense forest. My backpack felt heavier than I’d anticipated. Skylar moved ahead of me with the easy confidence of someone who’d walked this path a thousand times, pausing occasionally to point out native plants or the fresh tracks of deer in the soft earth.
“I came here all the time as a teenager,” she said, glancing back at me. “Whenever I felt like I was going to explode if I didn’t get away from people.”
“The social anxiety?” I asked, remembering her offhand comments over the years.
She nodded, continuing upward. “I found out pretty young that the anxiety didn’t hit the same online. So I spent time playing games and meeting people. With my online friends, with you guys, I could be myself without all the stress.”
The trail steepened, my designer hiking boots slipping on the damp ground. Skylar reached back without looking, her hand finding mine, steadying me with a strength that belied her small frame. I held on longer than necessary, savoring the simple contact.
“Almost there,” she said after another ten minutes of climbing. “You’re going to lose it when you see this view.”
She wasn’t wrong. The trail suddenly opened onto a grassy bluff that seemed to hang at the edge of the world. Below us, the Salish Sea stretched to the horizon, dark waves crashing against jagged rocks hundreds of feet down. Islands dotted the water, some no more than rocky outcroppings, others rising in forested humps from the churning sea.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed, unable to come up with anything more eloquent.
Skylar grinned, the wind whipping her teal-streaked hair around her face. “Worth the hike, right?”
I nodded, mesmerized by the wildness of it all. By her.
“You seem... better. More you.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Something happened yesterday that changed the things I was feeling anxious about.”
“You gonna tell me what it was?” I asked.
She smiled. “Let me work up the courage.”
We set up our picnic on a flat rock near the edge, Skylar spreading out the blanket I’d packed while I weighted the corners with smooth stones to keep it from blowing away. The Pacific Northwest wind cut through my jacket, making me shiver despite the sun breaking occasionally through the clouds.
“Cold?” I asked, pulling a thermos from my backpack. “I brought some hot tea.”
She poured the steaming liquid into the cap, using it as a cup, then passed it to me. Our fingers brushed as I took it, and I cupped my hands around the warmth, breathing in the scent of ginger and lemon.
