Page 21 of Odin
“Call me if you need anything. I might be on the back of a bike most of the day, but I’ll check my phone as often as I can.” Tarynn extends that to Willow, but not in a way that she thinks she’ll need it.
Crow mounts up as Tarynn rushes to the cabin, then comes back out with her helmet under her arm. She waves to both of us, lets Crow help her onto the bike, and as soon as she has her arms latched around his waist, he wheels the bike around and creeps slowly back through the way we came.
“They’re so cute together.” Despite her recent heartbreak, Willow can still be happy for other people, and I can tell she truly is. There’s not a bit of jealousy or bitterness there.
I know she’s far from over what she went through, and it’s a fuck of a lot more than just resiliency. She has a big heart, and soft, huge hearts that feel the most in this world, often hurt the most.
I’d like to find Preston all over again and ask him why? How could he have ever hurt this woman? He doesn’t deserve to grovel in front of her, to get down on his knees and beg her forgiveness.
Catching my sour expression, Willow throws her hands overhead and twirls in a circle. She inhales deeply, drinking in the fresh mountain air. I swear, it really does have a smell. Just… pure and clean, with a hint of the wildflowers that have cropped up in the grass, and the endless mix of trees beyond that. The cabin sits on seventy acres, all of it completely wild anduntouched forest. To the best of our knowledge, it’s never been logged. We had to basically hack our way down the old road the first few times we came here. There once was a bit of an open space surrounding the cabin, but brush and young trees had basically taken over and had to be cut back before we could even start renovating the cabin.
Her arms drop back to her side, but she keeps her face tipped to the sky. “Today is a beautiful day and I refuse to let anything bad creep in.” She takes off without warning, skipping to the cabin, her strappy sandals great for summer in the city, but slightly inadequate for out here. “Come on! Get your camera, and let’s get the food and go explore the woods! I’m starving, but I’ve been dying to take a walk through there. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”
I choke on a response that I can’t give.
On words that can never be uttered because they’re not mine to say.
On want for a woman more dazzling than thousands of places just like this one.
“Yes,” I mutter under my breath, but she’s already flung open the cabin door, and there’s no way she can hear.
Chapter 8
Willow
There are no words for the breathtaking splendor of this place.
The mountains stand as timeworn sentinels in the distance, rising above the endless treetops, so thick in places that they blot out the sun. There are myriads of trees that I can’t name. Some have leaves that rustle in the breeze, and some have needles that don’t make a sound. Some are tall and proud, with trunks so thick that I know I wouldn’t be able to wrap my arms around them, while others are newer, spindly little saplings with whip-thin trunks that seem to shiver right from top to bottom with the slightest brush of air.
It’s so wild to walk on the soft mossy ground, an entire ecosystem full of life, with only trees as far as I can see. It would be overwhelming if not for the fact that I can just tip my face up and see the endless blue sky above me. If I was here by myself, I never would have ventured more than ten feet into the woods. I would have kept the clearing in sight at all times, terrified of getting turned around and hopelessly lost.
Odin steps so confidently between the trees, trying to pick the easiest path for me to follow at all times, that he either has explored this place countless times, or he has a built in compass that I was born lacking.
We’ve been quiet for the past twenty or so minutes, since he took the backpack from me that Tarynn and I packed ather house, shouldered it, and readjusted his large camera bag to hang across his chest.
I told him that he should pick a good picnic spot, but on the way, we could keep an eye out for birds or other wildlife for him to photograph. Maybe that was naïve. He didn’t correct me because he’s too nice. Either way, I’ve tried not to sound like a galloping heifer crashing past branches and picking my way along, and I haven’t broken the silence with idle chatter.
Maybe I’m not as quiet as I think I’m being, because we haven’t seen so much as a squirrel or a single bird. I can hear the birds, way off in the distance, blanketing the woods with their song, but none have ventured near. On the plus side, we also haven’t run into any bears, mountain lions, or moose. I don’t know if they’re out here, or maybe this is the wrong area, time of day, or season for them, but either way, I’m glad we haven’t crossed paths.
I’m temporarily distracted from the beauty of our surroundings as I watch Odin sweep aside a low hanging branch for me. He holds it, letting me pass, then lets it go so gently that it barely sways. All this time, he’s cut through the trees like he’s a natural part of this place, not a tall, well-honed, entirelymasculinebeing with a body as a big as a linebacker, but chiseled as hard as the outcropping of rock jutting from the mossy floor. This planet is so wondrous and breathtaking, its topography a mystery. Having lived my whole life in LA, I appreciate seeing a forest like this.
I appreciate being out of the city. Maybe there’s some merit to thetouch grassthing.
If I’m honest, I appreciate the man in front of me, cutting such a hard figure, but kind enough to sweepaside branch after branch to make going easy for me. It’s not justhisrugged topography that I find intoxicating. It’s his mind, his experiences, his wisdom, and his seemingly boundless generosity.
He has no idea that the very air is electric, but I know. My body has been sparking with it ever since I saw him pull into the clearing, handling that massive, thundering bike as easily as if it was an electric scooter.
I’d be a liar if I said that the minute he planted his feet on the ground, shed his helmet, swept a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, and surveyed the clearing like a soldier about to enter a battle where something is just off and they can sense it, the bike growling loud enough to shake the whole clearing, didn’t leave me breathless.
I’m so busy thinking about the memory, lighting off another array of fireworks in my gut, that I almost miss the gurgling water just ahead of us. A small stream, only a few feet wide, cuts through the woods at an unnatural angle. It carves its way through the land, cutting out its own bed without the need for rocks or strewn boulders. It’s probably fed from the mountains. I’m instantly smitten by the clear burbling water, and fascinated by the way it changes the scent of the air, enhancing the earthy aroma and toning down the scent of the trees.
It’s all so fresh and clean that I wish I could stay out here for a hundred years. Become a country vet with my own little place, get to know the man in front of me and-
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
Odin slings his camera bag off and lowers the backpack to the ground. His clear indication that this is our picnic spot cuts my illicit reverie off just in time.
“Nope. I was too excited about this.”
