Page 28 of The Ex-cavenger Hunt

I toss and turn, the sheets tangling around my legs, my skin too hot and too cold all at once. Sleep proves elusive, my thoughts a tangled mess of what-ifs and might-have-beens, a labyrinth of doubts and desires that I can’t seem to navigate. The taste of Ethan’s kiss haunts me, a sweet torment that I both crave and fear, a reminder of the passion that simmers just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

I close my eyes, trying to will myself to sleep, but the image of Ethan’s face, the way he looked at me with such tenderness and longing, burns behind my eyelids, a searing brand that I can’t escape. I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin, the way his fingers traced the contours of my face, the way his lips moved against mine in a dance as old as time itself.

And as the night deepens, the gentle hum of the RV’s generator is the only sound in the stillness of the night. I’m left to wonder if I’ve made the right decision, retreating to the safety of this place, or if I’ve just run away from the possibility of something real, something as wild and beautiful as the wilderness itself. The fear of the unknown, of the potential for heartbreak and disappointment, wars with the longing in my heart, the desire to take a chance, to leap into the unknown and see where it leads.

I sigh, my breath fogging the window beside me, and I trace patterns in the condensation. My mind wanders to thoughts of Ethan, of the way he makes me feel alive, of the way he challenges me to be brave, to step outside my comfort zone and embrace the adventure that lies ahead.

And as I finally drift off to sleep, my dreams are filled with the scent of campfire smoke and the warmth of Ethan’s embrace, a promise of what could be if only I have the courage to reach out and grasp it.

Chapter Seventeen

Lily

Chicago was a bust.

Christian, the museum curator, didn’t want to talk to me. He was too busy procuring the next big exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago. I thought he was the entire package. Smart, hard-working, and older. The problem was that he didn’t like my lifestyle.

Like Ethan, he liked structure and didn’t divert from his routines to discover new things and live life at large.

Being with him felt like attempting to engage with a bureaucrat whose next available appointment was only open for the following year. And even then, I seemed like an unwelcome interruption, a trivial inconvenience persistently vying for attention in his meticulously organized agenda.

I watched him bustle around his office, barely glancing my way as he rifled through papers and typed furiously on his computer. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed together. It was clear from his body language that if he could, he would’ve propelled me to outer space, hoping he’d never see me again.

That’s when I realized that we were complete opposites, Christian and I. Where he was all rigid lines and schedules, I was fluid and spontaneous, eager to embrace the unexpected. Even though they say opposites attract, in this case the saying is not true. There has to be more to it: a real attraction, enough love to compromise and find some middle ground.

Unsurprisingly, Ethan and I excused ourselves and left to spend a day in Chicago. However, the whole thing frustrated me.

This trip was supposed to give me answers, but with every guy, I only found myself with more questions. And the more time I spent with Ethan, the less I could ignore the memory of our kiss—and the undeniable pull between us.

Every time I think about Ethan, heat creeps up my neck. The images from that night flood my mind unbidden—Ethan’s strong hands gripping my waist, the hot press of his mouth against mine, the way my body melted into his . . .

I have to remind myself that I can’t get distracted by Ethan, his husky voice, and the memory of his seductive mouth. Not when I still have so much soul-searching left to do. But deep down, a small voice whispers that maybe he is the answer I’ve been looking for all along. Not sure how though, but maybe I’ll find it.

Chapter Eighteen

Ethan

The entire day, Lily has been avoiding me, her eyes darting away every time I try to catch her gaze, her body language closed off and guarded. She’s been skillfully dodging any conversation that can lead us to the kiss we shared last night, the memory of her soft lips against mine still fresh in my mind, a tantalizing reminder of the electricity that crackled between us.

It takes extreme agility to hike with someone and yet stay far away from them, and Lily is a master at this game of emotional hide-and-seek, her steps quick and purposeful as she navigates the winding trails.

I watch her from a distance, my heart heavy with a mixture of longing and confusion, the conflicting emotions warring within me. Though I could pursue her, could try to break through the walls she’s erected around herself, I’m giving her space, my own thoughts a tangled mess of uncertainty and desire. I don’t even know what to make of that kiss, the way it set my soul on fire and left me aching for more.

Do I like her?

The question haunts me. She’s pretty—no, she’s fucking gorgeous, with her sparkling eyes and infectious laugh, her wild curls dancing in the breeze. I can see myself doing more than just kissing her. My body responding to the mere thought of her touch, the heat of her skin against mine. But . . . that’s all I can offer her, right? A fleeting moment of passion, a brief break from the loneliness that seems to plague us both.

There’s a reason why she wanted to search for all the men she’s dated, a quest for closure and answers, a desperate bid to learn how to find the one who’ll love her forever. And as much as I want to be that person for her, as much as my heart yearns to be the one to make her smile, to chase away the shadows of her past, I know that I’m not equipped for that kind of commitment, that kind of depth.

I, on the other hand, have never had time for more than just the moment, a string of casual encounters and short-lived flings that never quite managed to fill the void inside me. It’s relatively funny, knowing that I like to follow plans, schedules, and patterns in every other aspect of my life, but when it comes to love? That’s just an illusion, a fairy tale that I’ve long since stopped believing in.

We weave through the crowds of NashVibes, the weight of the kiss with Lily pressing heavily on my mind, a juxtaposition to the lightness of the festival air. I’m not one for crowds, my years as a SEAL having hardwired me for vigilance.

NashVibes is a world away from the structured life I’ve known, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds that threatens to overwhelm my senses. The throngs of people, the relentless beat of music—it’s all so alien, a far cry from the quiet discipline of military life.

Yet, I find myself caught up in its pulse, the energy of the crowd infectious, even as I struggle to maintain my composure. I do it for Lily, whose laughter rings clearer than any tune played here.

“Excuse me,” I murmur as I sidestep a group decked out in an impressive array of glitter and glow sticks, their faces painted with neon designs that glow under the black lights scattered throughout the venue. They’re lost in their own world, a bubble of euphoria that I can’t quite penetrate, my mind too focused on finding Lily, on making sure she’s safe and happy in this unfamiliar territory.

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