Page 35 of Into the Mountains
“What do we have back here?” I ask.
“Sable’s brother. I named him Erebor.”
“You named him?”
“Jacob said he didn’t have a name. So, I let him out because Sable was meowing at his kennel and I wanted to let them play. He’s really strong and he was lonely, so I figured Erebor suited him.”
I sit next to him and cross my legs, reaching out to Erebor. He doesn’t hesitate to shove his head into my outstretched hand. Sable comes over and nestles her head into his neck and then they both start climbing into my lap.
“Dad?” Ethan starts nervously.
I give him a look, reminding him of what I said before he came in here.
“I did say, no promises.”
“Yeah, I guess you did.” I chuckle.
I’m not sure when it happened, but suddenly I couldn’t say no to the furballs in my lap. It’s always good to have a companion.
“As long as Grandma and Grandpa are okay with helping you take care of them this weekend, okay?”
“This weekend?”
I explain about the camping trip and while he’s excited about the idea of spending the whole weekend with his grandparents, two of his favorite people in the world, I can tell something is bothering him.
“Will you and Charlotte get along better after the trip?”
My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Redness creeps into his cheeks like he’s embarrassed. “I kinda listened a little bit at the door.”
And now I look at him in a way that parents look at their kids when they know they’ve done something wrong.
“Hey, you eavesdropped the other night,” he accuses.
“Alright, you got me there. Why are you so worried about Charlotte and me?”
He shrugs. “I just want you to be friends is all.”
“Why?”
“Because I like her. And I think it’d be cool if you were friends too.” There’s a small sense of hope in his voice like he might wish for something more between us. What he doesn’t know is I’m pretty sure his Aunt Sky and Uncle Jacob are trying toParent Trapus anyway. I’d be shocked if the two of them don’t have the handshake memorized and planned to pull out the moment their meddling works.
Except, unfortunately for them, it won’t.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHARLOTTE
Asatisfying thud comes from my bag as I throw another pair of leggings into it from a few feet away.
“Easy there, killer.” Avery is perched at my headboard, knees bent as she flips through her current book.
I’m standing at my dresser with too many drawers open, trying to pack for this ridiculous camping trip. At this point, I don’t really care what I have in my bag as long as I have clothes. Fashionista Charlotte is completely gone for the weekend.
“I’m just frustrated.”
“Clearly. But your poor clothes don’t deserve the abuse.”
