I faltered, letting my hand fall back down to my side. Before I could utter another world, he moved towards the door, yanking open the screened one. “You coming inside or what?”
I didn’t want to, I really didn’t, but I had to.
“Also, why are you dressed like that?” he asked over his shoulder, his tall body gobbling up most of the doorway.
I looked down, taking in my hiking boots, baby blue leggings, and cropped gray shirt. It was the only non-work outfit I actually felt confident in, even if my rounded belly showed. Slowly, I was learning to accept and love my body while overcoming the toxic habits I’d picked up in college to stay sane.
“I was going to ask Val or your dad if I could hike up the west side of the mountain today,” I answered, looking back up to him.
I didn’t want to show my face to Denver or Val, knowing how crappy of a friend I’d been these last few weeks, but I wasn’t about to use their land to work off my issues without their permission. The truth was, Langston Mountain was the best local hiking if you didn’t want to drive forty minutes either way. Not to mention, I was familiar with these trails and didn’t have the energy to figure out a new one. Here, I could get some sunshine, clear my head, and know where I was at all times—on Hallow Ranch.
“You don’t have to ask,” he chuckled, jerking his chin to the mountain. “Just go.”
I hesitated. “I feel like I need to—”
“You're family just as much as anyone else on this ranch, Di,” he said, waving me off. “Valerie isn’t here anyways, and Dad’s with the herd.”
I wanted to ask why he wasn’t with his dad, but I refrained.
“Oh,” I mumbled, looking down to the barn, my eyes on the “H” slapped on over the red paint. “Where is Val?”
“The flower shop with Harm and NJ,” he answered, waving me off for a second time.
I flinched, but thankfully, Caleb didn’t catch it. He was too busy yawning. “Long morning?” I wondered out loud, studying him as he scratched his head.
“Yeah. I think I’m going to take a nap.”
I looked down to the barn, then back to him. “Don’t you have chores to do?”
He shot me a look. “You sound like Jigs.”
“I—”
“Go. Enjoy your hike. I’ll tell Dad you’re here,” he said, cutting me off.
I gave up, giving him a small smile. “Thanks, Caleb.”
He shot me another smirk and disappeared inside.
Ipulledover,parkingmy car in the grass by the barbed wire fence, and looked up to the mountain, taking in the lush trees. The sky was blue, the brightest it’d been in days, actually, and thick, fluffy, pearl-white clouds were scattered across it, stretching for miles.
The other side of the mountain was still healing from the fire, but the trees had actually started to bloom this past spring. Hopefully, by next year, the scar of Tim Moonie would be gone, and he would be nothing more than a crappy memory. Then, and only then, would I feel comfortable hiking on that side. So far, I hadn’t.
I didn’t want to interrupt the healing.
After putting the car in park, I swung out and looked up and down the quiet road. No one, aside from the Hallow Ranch boys, drove back here, making it seem eerie in a way, but I knew my car would be safe. I walked around to the other side, opened the door to the backseat, and grabbed my backpack, pulling out the sunscreen. Once I was sprayed down, I locked up the car, hooked the bag on my shoulders, and made my way down the fence line, searching for the small gate door in the barbed wire fence Beau showed me the first time I hiked on Langston mountain.
Though I’d been hiking up and down this side of the mountain for years in nearly every season, this time of year was my favorite.
Autumn was approaching, and the trees were about to turn from green to stunning oranges, yellows, and reds. The sun was hot, yes, but it was cooler now as summer came to a close, making the hike more bearable.
Today was the perfect day to get lost in the woods, drench myself in sunshine, and leave my troubles on the road. Plus, my seasonal allergies wouldn’t take such a beating after. All around me, the Earth was alive, blessing me with a beauty unlike any other.
My skin warmed underneath the rays, pale and blinding as always. No matter how hard I tried, I never tanned. I burned, healed, and reverted to pale.
“There it is,” I muttered when I spotted the small gate about a hundred yards from my car. I wrapped my fingers around the straps of my backpack, adjusting it one last time as I came to a stop in front of the fairytale-style gate, the white paint chipped and fading.
There was similar gate in the fence line on the other side of the ranch, one that led to the cabin Denver had kept for Beau. It was originally supposed to go to Jigs, a home for him to raise Beau in, but he declined. I knew it was just a matter of time before Den asked me about changing the name on the deed, especially now that Abbie was moving in.