Page 105 of Fall With Me (Sugarland Creek)

“How much land do y'all own?”

“Hundreds of acres. Goes back here and then some.”

“Did y'all ever camp out here?”

“Not really. We have family who live in Willow Branch Mountain a couple hours north of here and they own a luxury camping resort. My parents took us out there pretty much every summer growin' up.”

“Why does that sound familiar?” I rack my brain for where I would've heard that name.

“It's a small town but it's a popular place for mostly couples. We have some marketing materials posted at The Lodge. Probably saw it in there.”

No, I don't think so…

“Hmm…

“What is it?” He leans in closer to hear me.

“I'm just gettin' frustrated having these moments of something soundin' like I know them but not remembering from where or how. Happened earlier too at the farmer's market when a journalist approached me and called me by my name as if we'd spoken before. I knew she looked familiar but couldn't place any memories of her.”

“Yeah, that's the brain fog associated with concussions. Wilder got sick with bacterial meningitis when he was like five or six and suffered from neurological side effects for two years. It halted his milestones because he had short-term memory issues. They wanted him to repeat kindergarten, but he and Waylon didn't want to be separated so my parents didn’t let them.”

“Oh wow…that sounds traumatic.”

“He did rehab therapy to help him catch up and improve his memory and attention so he could comprehend what he was learning. Then he had speech therapy for a year and now he never shuts up, so I guess it worked.”

I laugh because he's right. Wilder loves to hear his own voice.

“Okay, to the left now…you'll have to go off trail for a minute and then you'll see it.”

Thirty seconds later, a truck comes into view.

“Who is that?” I ask.

“It's Fisher's truck, he's lettin' me borrow it since his has a larger bed than mine. We can park here.” He reaches over and turns it off.

Once he climbs off, he helps me to my feet and removes my helmet.

“Does my hair look crazy now?”

Grinning, he smooths it down for me and then tucks it behind my ears. “It's gonna get messed up anyway, so don't worry too much about it.”

“Wh—”

He winks, taking my hand, and walking us toward the truck. A few seconds later, the dots finally connect in my slow-thought brain on what he was insinuating.

“You sound very confident about that.”

“I am.” He glances at me, squeezing my fingers. “I plan to throw you in the lake.”

“Wait, what?”

As we get closer to the back of the truck, I see a lake twenty feet away on the other side. It looks pretty clear, too.

“You didn't tell me to bring a suit!” I scold. “Hours and hours of preparin' and now you're going to ruin it.”

“I'll carry you so you don't get wet, how's that?”

“That sounds like a trap.”

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