Page 52 of Just One Moment

“Youdon’t sound half as impressed as me.”Ipoke him in his side, evoking a grunt. “Ohmy god, are you ticklish?”

“No,” he responds way too quickly, and rather than tease him,Ilock that information away in my arsenal. “It’spretty spectacular, but remember,I’veseen this view every fall for thirty-three years.”

“I’dnever get bored of it.”Isigh asItake in the whimsical scenery. “Howfar are we walking today?”

“Notfar; about three-quarters of a mile.”

“WillIbe okay in my sneakers?”I’dmisplaced my hiking boots, probably snowed under all my clothes and knickknacks.

Witha quick glance down at my white sneakers, he smirks. “Yeah, they’ll do.Notmany people know about this trail.Patrick,Johanna,Dex, andIcame out here one year, just before winter hit.Wewere going to hike our usual,” he says and points toward a sign that readsHoneybeeLoopright as we pass it. “ButDexwandered over to a fallen tree and we found what looked to be an old trail.”

“What’sit called?”

Grahamflicks his turn signal and steers into a small parking lot, overshadowed by huge evergreen pines that stand out against the auburn colors of the elm, beech, and oak.Hepulls into a spot and turns off the engine.

“That’sthe thing, it didn’t have one.Wecontacted the local parks team, and they didn’t have any record of it.I’mguessing it was created unofficially by someone.Itbecame our new hiking spot, and to this day, the park still hasn’t officially recognized it.Sowe took ownership and named it ourselves.BeaverMoonTrail.”

“BeaverMoon?”Itwist my body to face him.

“Yeah.Itmeans the first full moon inNovember.There’sa lot of folklore around it.Mostpeople see it as a time for preparation or transition.”

“Ilove that.I’llhave to keep that in mind comeNovember.There’sso much history to this place.”Ipeer up through the panoramic top of theJeep, hypnotized asIwatch the leaves pirouette toward us.

“Justwait,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes.

Oncewe’re out of the car,Grahampops the trunk to get his pack ready asItake in the scenery surrounding us.Ithrow my arms up in the air, head tipped back as the late afternoon sun warms my cheeks.Allof a sudden my foot snags on something, andIcareen forward, but luckily he’s quick to catch me.

“Whoa, you okay?”Grahamkeeps a tight hold of my shoulders and we both look down to see my shoelace is undone. “Maybeyour sneakers aren’t a good idea.Howabout these?”Hesteps to the side, revealing his open trunk.Ittakes me a second to work out what he’s referring to, but whenIspot the bright yellow rain boots sitting front and center,Igasp.

“Youdidn’t,”Iwhisper, my voice clogging with emotion.I’mvaguely aware of his hand pressing between my shoulder blades, guiding me forward.

“Idid,” he murmurs.Pattingthe open trunk, he smiles down at me.

NowI’mblown away for a totally different reason.

Thissmile isn’t like the muted, cautious oneI’veseen so many times.Thisone takes over his face, pushing his cheeks up to his bright eyes.Maybeit’s a good thingGrahamdoesn’t smile often.OrI’dfind myself in a dumbstruck state twenty-four seven.Somehowhe’s even more handsome andIfeel honored thatI’mthe one to see him like this right now.

Hekneels in front of me and slips off my shoes whenIsit.Carefully, he rolls my socks over my leggings and holds up the boots between us. “Readyto get these muddy,Mainestyle?”

Adelighted laugh peels out of me andIwiggle my toes. “ReadyasI’llever be.”

It’srare thatI’mleft speechless, yet hereIam, stunned silent asIwatchGrahamslide the boots on.They’rethe perfect fit, but not more perfect than this moment.Tomost people it would seem silly to get so emotional over a pair of boots, but not to me—or the sad little ten-year-old who was desperate for any sort of affection growing up.Iwonder ifGrahameven realizes the weight this seemingly small gesture carries.

WhenIstand and walk in a circle around him, he follows each step with that same devastatingly beautiful smile on his face.Iwant so badly to kiss it.Toimprint his joy onto my lips.

“Ican’t begin to explain what this means to me.Thisworld doesn’t deserve people like you.”

“It’snot that big of a deal.”Asusual, he brushes it off, butIwon’t have that today.

“Well, sometimes being kind is difficult for people, so to me, when someone does something like this, it means a hell of a lot.I’mnot used to nice things, so let me have this.”

Hegoes to speak, probably wanting to downplay the act, but he thinks better of it. “Okay.”

“Okay!”Ishout with a lot more enthusiasm and clap my hands together, which causes a flock of birds to evacuate a nearby tree. “Oops.”

Grahamhuffs, humor replacing the doubt on his face.Withhis hand on the small of my back, he clicks the fob to hisJeepover his shoulder and directs us toward the tree line.Hehelps me over the trunk of a fallen tree, andIfind a boardwalk-covered trail.

“Ithought you said it wasn’t an official trail?”

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