Page 4 of For Keeps. For Always.

I sigh in acceptance.

If I’d kicked up a big enough stink, they wouldn’t have moved me here. They would’ve uprooted Gran and movedherto Colorado. That would’ve made me a special brand of asshat, though. Forcing my dying grandmother to displace her life completely and move a thousand miles away to be taken care of. Away from everything she knows and loves.

“You clearly can’t read.”

I open an eye and findHenley Wrightstanding over me, hands on her tiny hips, scowling down at me with a ferocity that seems out of place on her meager frame.

I roll away from her briefly so she can see the rock in full.

“I can read fine, Henley. Nice to meet you, by the way.”

Reading my addition to the stone, she growls, adding a little foot stomp in and breaking a bunch of twigs through her tantrum.

“What is wrong with you?” she groans.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” I answer calmly. “I was enjoying some peace and quiet and reflecting on the recent upheaval in my life when you disrupted me.”

She blinks in analmostapology.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your serenity.”

I pull my lips together to hide my smirk.

Serenity.

Who talks like that?

“You’re more than welcome to sit with me. We can think privately in silence together.”

She turns her head out toward the river.

Her hair is tied in a messy knot tied atop of her head today. It makes her freckles stand out more, the dusting of the dark spots starting at her nose and working their way outward over her cheeks. Her dark hair is a direct contrast to the creamy tone of her skin. She’s fair but not pale.

She’s pretty. To look at anyway. Her personality, from what I’ve seen of it, could use a facelift.

“That would be weird.” She finally speaks absent-mindedly, eyes still set on the flow of the water. “Imagine if I’m thinking about something exceptionally private . . . I’d be worried you might be trying to read my mind, which would make me uncomfortable and therefore ruin my private reflection time.”

I stare at her like she’s an alien. Truth be told, she might very well be. “Uhhh . . .”

My stutter pulls her attention from the river, and she glances at me in confusion. “What?”

“You thinkwaytoo hard about things.”

She seems shocked by my statement. The lids of her eyes drop down, and her eyebrows pinch together. “What other way is there to think?”

I sit, shifting to make room for her. Maybe I'm being presumptuous, but if she was going to leave, she would have already. It’s not hard to tell that she wants to stay. It’s obvious in the way her eyes flick back and forth to the rock in longing.

“I don’t know, maybe just go with the flow,” I say.

“I do,” she declares confidently. “I just think about where the flow is taking me.”

She finally gives in, sitting down while making certain she keeps her distance.

“Do you have something against shoes?”

She glances at her own feet, clumps of dirt scattered across them. I have no doubt her soles would be black, sullied from her trek through the dirt. Her attention moves from her feet to my muddy Chucks. “What’s the point of being out in nature if you can’t feel it between your toes?”

I remain silent.

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