Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
He was fishing a short distance away and he grinned and waved when he saw her.
She waved back before shoving her cold hands into her jacket pockets and ambling toward him.
It was a lot easier to get around lately, since her toe didn’t hurt as badly anymore. Only mild twinges ever bothered her. But Kenny was very aware of the fact that it was nowhere near fully healed and kept it firmly strapped, wearing the boot even around camp. Smith had been diligent about clearing even and safe paths around the campsite for her.
“Any luck?” she asked, when she was just a few feet away from him.
“Not at all. I told you I’m a shitty fisherman. Did you have a good nap?”
“Hmm,” she responded noncommittally. He’d set up two camping chairs and she took the one next to his. She picked up the thermos on the ground between the chairs and poured herself a cup of black coffee.
“Next time we come here, when your foot is completely healed, we can go to my favorite campsite. It’s harder to reach and we can’t navigate that trail now. N, not with your injured toe. But it’s even more beautiful than this spot. And I can’t wait to take you up to that ridge over there. The views are spectacular.” He pointed toward an outcropping off in the distance and everything in Kenny recoiled at the thought of ever trekking up to that godforsaken rock over stony paths and up steep hills and…
Ugh.
No.
“Smith…”
He gave her an easy, curious smile, waiting for her to continue. Kenny pursed her lips and took another sip of the too bitter coffee and then let it all out on a single breath.
“It’sreallybeautifulupherebutIjustdon’tthinkcampingisforme.”
A tiny divot appeared between his straight brows as he tried to decipher the stream of words.
“Oh,” he finally said after an excruciatingly long pause. “Well, why didn’t you say something sooner, sweetheart? We could’ve left yesterday.”
She blinked at him in confusion.
Wait…was that it?
“You’re not disappointed?” she asked and he shrugged, looking remarkably unperturbed.
“I mean, sure, but it’s not the end of the world. Camping and hiking aren’t for everyone.”
His eyes were serious and his voice gruff when he added, “You not liking camping isn’t the problem here, Kenna. How long have you been miserable?”
“I’m not miserable,” she denied weakly and his gaze remained steady on her face, clearly telling her he didn’t believe her. She shut her eyes for a moment. “Since we arrived.”
“Three days, and you didn’t think you could tell me how you felt?” The disappointment in his voice, on his face, gutted her. “We said we weren’t going to do this anymore.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. You just seemed so happy and I didn’t want to ruin that.”
“My happiness doesn’t supersede yours.” The words brought tears to her eyes.
“I know that,” she whispered. “It just took me three days to figure it out. And, if it’s any consolation, last year I would simply have bottled it up and not revealed any aspect of how I felt to you. So…yay? Progress?”
She’d hoped to coax a smile from him, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes did soften, and he closed the distance between the chairs to clasp her hand in his.
They sat like that for a long time, holding hands while watching the stream bubbling merrily by.
Absolute silence between them.
It could have been a perfect moment, only Kenny wasn’t sure if it was a happy silence or a sad one.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Dummieeeees!
Kenna groaned. She couldn’t keep ignoring them. And maybe talking to them would take her mind off the fact that Smith had dropped her off at her place straight after they’d returned from the camping trip nearly five hours ago and left almost immediately after stating that he needed to unpack.
The man who still had gear in his car from two camping trips ago was suddenly in an all-fired rush to get home and stow his shit.
The only logical conclusion one could reach after his indecent haste to leave was that he was hurt or upset. And after all their talk about communicating, it concerned her that they’d both defaulted right back keeping important information from each other.
She sank down on the sofa with a quiet, despairing huff, and removed her cast. She stretched her legs out in front of her and carefully wiggled her toes, pleased when it barely hurt. At least one thing was healing.
She picked up her phone and swiped to her sibling chat. She hadn’t checked any of the messages they’d sent since the whole kiss cam thing.
It was pretty much as she’d expected. A whole lot of what the fucks. Irate questions about what was happening with the supposed separation and/or divorce. Each and every one of them had conveniently forgotten her dictate that they not badmouth Smith. Because they all had some pretty choice things to say about the circumstances of his birth and the quality of his character.