Page 15 of Something Cryptid This Way Comes
I bend at the knees in an attempt to see if I can tell what he’s thinking. My heart pounds because I want to make this right. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have Trevor. “Hey. It’s not weird. Makes me feel good knowing you really like them.”
He finally raises his gaze to meet mine. What looks like hope shines in his brown eyes. And maybe a little relief. “I do. It… makes me feel closer to you.” His focus drops to the floor again, his voice tentative. “I never told you this, but I struggled a lot after you moved away. Went from seeing you every day for seven years to nothing. Then when we started the yearly vacations, that helped, but it’s?—”
Not enough,” I finish. “I know. For me either.” I take a step closer.
He plops onto the mattress and peers up through his eyelashes. “I know you had to go. You had football waiting for you.”
“But now, I don’t.” Another step. And another until I’m in front of him. I drop to my knees and rest my fingers on the worn patch of denim where his knee meets his thigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. Sorry I didn’t fly you out to see me more.”
Softness comes into his eyes. He squeezes my shoulder. Once. Twice. The feel of our connection is so right. “It wasn’t all on you. Life got in the way for both of us.”
I want to tug him to me and reassure him with my lips, but the moment feels fragile, and I won’t risk our friendship. It means too much. He means too much. “Things will be different now. I promise. If you don’t mind Hades and me crashing here, I can come up more often.”
“You’re always welcome. Anytime.” His voice is low, smooth, and the upturn of his lips warms me from the inside out.
“You should come with me on an investigation, if you can take time away,” I hedge because for the first time in a long time, I realize how lonely I’ve been. Sure, I have friends and I’ve been lucky to have not one but two careers that I love. But being back in Maplewood, back with Trevor, fills a hollow spot in my center I tried to run from.
Those enticing lips spread into a beaming smile, his white teeth on full display. “You want me to come with you? Just the two of us?”
“And the dogs. It would be great. The outdoor company that sponsors my podcast sent me a ton of camping equipment. We could try it out.”
Eyes gleaming and smile radiating, he bobs his head. “I could do that.”
The tightness in my muscles finally eases. “Good.” I pat his thigh. “Now lie down.”
His brows shoot up. “What?”
“Lie down. You don’t need a recording when you have the real thing. I’ll tell you a story.” I stand, and look at him expectantly while he gapes at me. “Come on. It’s a good one.”
After a few seconds more of gaping, he narrows his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips, but then he slides under the covers.
I turn out the overhead light. Shadows envelop the room. Walking toward the bed, with Trevor waiting there for me, I’m hit with an urge to slip under the covers with him and draw him into my arms. It’s so strong, my steps falter.
The mattress sinks under my weight. My thigh brushes Trevor’s arm, but he doesn’t shift away and neither do I. Leaning against the headboard, I begin the story. “It all started when a bear came across my trail camera and decided to take it with him.”
Sitting here with him in the dark is peaceful, listening to him breathe, his low chuckles, and whispered questions. It’s the most intimate thing I've done in a long time.
I hope I get to do it again, and again, every night for as long as I’m here.
CHAPTER 5
TREVOR
The last remnants of sunset, pink and orange hues, fade as the sun sinks below the trees covering the mountains. Orange, yellow, and red color the leaves clinging to the trees, creating patches of warmth amid the dark green of the pine trees in the forest around us. The evening is clear and cold, though the blazing campfire keeps us warm.
Spread out in a wide circle around the fire, wearing the reflective yellow safety vests we passed out to every Cryptid Night attendee along with their choice of flashlight or headlamp, locals and people from out of town enjoy hot chocolate, cider, hot dogs, and roasted marshmallows. Over sixty people signed up for our event, so we had to call in reinforcements in the form of begging our friends to help out.
Sitting on a wide tree stump with Bram, I draw my roasting stick away from the flames. The marshmallows are more charred than I like, but I don’t want to waste them.
Bram, bundled into two of my plaid flannels under his leather jacket, a knit hat, and gloves, bumps my shoulder. “Here. We’ll trade.”
He hands me a roasting stick with two golden brown marshmallows then takes the blackened ones from me.
The gesture makes my insides feel as gooey as the sugary treat. “Thanks.”
We eat our toasted marshmallows, leaning against each other, and the press of being shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh, is a thrill. The sounds of the woods at night, the cold air, warm fire, and sharing snacks with Bram takes me back to so many memories of summers and autumns camping together. Bram keeps smiling. Seeing him so happy and in his element makes everything seem lighter and brighter, and I’m glad I agreed to take this on. Selling out all rooms at the mansion and the carriage house is a nice bonus.
For the past hour, people have shared stories of their cryptid encounters. In a loud, clear voice, Agnes takes her turn, giving us a dramatic reenactment of her winged creature tale. Eleanor, Lydia, Celia, and Rae are here too, as eccentric as always. Of course, the five octogenarians are a crowd favorite.
