Page 49 of The Kiss Countdown

He sets my unfinished taco by the lamp and pulls me up so I’m standing, and I don’t resist. “If I’m going to keep my mom off my back, I need you out there with me. You’ll be fine,” Vincent assures me.

I know when he says he needs me, he doesn’t actually mean me, but rather his fake girlfriend. Still, his declaration halts the words in my throat, and pleasure curls around my spine. Where did this reluctance to say no tohim come from? I need to find out and nip it in the bud. But until I do, all I can do is shrug. “I guess we’re going to a cave.”

We’re about fifteen minutes into the hike, and Vincent and I have been glaring at each other nonstop. Actually, I’ve been glaring at him while his focus has been on my shoes. And in all fairness, I have slipped three times.

I do my best to follow Camille’s steps, but the rugged trail we’re on today is full of loose rocks, and my shoes don’t have a huge amount of traction. I can see why Vincent may be a little upset and probably thinkingI told you soabout me bringing hiking boots, but how was I supposed to know we’d be out here doing extreme sports? It seems like yesterday’s hike was an appetizer and this is the real deal. I’m out of my wheelhouse and highly annoyed.

After I step over a raised tree root, my foot slips on the rock I land on, and I lose my balance. Vincent grabs my upper arm to help steady me. I would’ve appreciated the gesture if he hadn’t also huffed out a breath. Instead, my irritation is kicked up a notch, and I wrench my arm from his hand while shooting another glare at him.

“Do y’all remember this?” Mrs. Rogers calls from the head of the group.

We all make it to where she’s facing a stone as tall as I am.

“Aww, I should have brought some paint with me,” Brianna says.

“What’s the story here?” I ask Vincent. I’m still annoyed with him, but also curious.

“On our way to the cave, we used to stop here and pretend that it was a door to some magical land. Bri convincedMom to let us paint it one day, and each time it would rain around here she would beg to come back to fix what the water had wiped away.”

“Let’s get a picture of the siblings!” Brianna suggests.

After a little coaxing, Vincent and Camille join her at the rock. Rather than hand Sheba off, Brianna puts the leash under her foot, then pulls her siblings tight to her.

They all look so different. Vincent, tall, dark, and handsome, with his jaw that’s all hard angles. Camille, with her brown complexion a little darker than the others and an air of competence. And Brianna, so lovely with dimples on each cheek that fit perfectly with her baby face. When they smile, they all have the same crinkle to their eyes, and the resemblance is unmistakable.

“Look at my babies,” Mrs. Rogers says when she’s taken at least ten photos of them. “My heart is so full. I’m so glad to have all of my kids home, if only for a little while.”

As soon as she says the words, her body stiffens and her eyes immediately pool with grief. My guess is she’s thinking of her one son who isn’t here.

She looks at each of her kids, stopping at Vincent as her mouth thins.

“Momma.” The plea is soft but evident in Vincent’s voice. As if he feels the tangible shift in the air, and her turn of mood could be as predictable as the sun rising in the east. And maybe for him it is.

Mrs. Rogers shakes her head. “Sometimes I just wonder, if we’d raised you all in the city instead, whether things would have been different. If we could’ve kept you safe that way.”

“Enough, Momma.” This time Vincent’s voice is firm. He lets out a controlled exhale and pushes away from the rock. “Let’s keep going.” He takes off, back on the trail.

The phone Mrs. Rogers used to take pictures of her kids is now held loosely in her hand, and Mr. Rogers puts an arm around her slumped shoulders as he speaks low in her ear where no one else can hear. Camille looks at her mom, then sighs and shakes her head after Vincent. Only Lance meets my gaze, and I know we’re both in unspoken agreement that what has so far been a joyous occasion has taken a turn.

I watch Vincent, my heart clenching as the distance between us grows wider and wider. I may have been annoyed with him earlier, but his dejected walk causes all my annoyance to fade. Before he can get too far ahead, I call after him, “Vincent, wait!” I start down the trail, then begin jogging when he doesn’t stop.

“Sheba, no! Heel!”

I slow when I hear Brianna calling after her dog, turning to see the golden ball of fur has gotten free and is bounding toward me. With my attention diverted, my foot catches on the edge of a large rock.

In the second it takes me to hit the ground, it crosses my mind how lucky I am to have on gloves. At least my hands won’t get all scraped up. Once I’m on the cold, hard ground, I only have time to pick up my face before Sheba is on me.

She’s not heavy, but I’m pinned, trying to cover my face as she assaults me with kisses. She manages to get in a few good licks to my cheek before she’s removed. I uncover my face to see Vincent standing by me, holding Sheba by her collar.

Brianna scrambles to us and grabs Sheba’s leash from the ground. “I’m so sorry, Amerie. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, pushing to my elbows.

“You do know if you can’t control your dog, you probably shouldn’t have one,” Vincent growls at Brianna.

“Vincent, I said I’m fine,” I say more firmly, mostly for Brianna’s benefit. I can tell she feels bad about Sheba getting loose, and Vincent isn’t making the situation easier for anyone. “I’m the one who made the mistake of running and setting off her little wolf instincts.”

“All the more reason to keep control over your pets. You’re lucky she only licked you.”

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