Page 22 of Unlucky in Love
“Sure,” he said, but the grin tugging at his mouth betrayed his amusement.
The trail steepened, and they fell into a rhythm of breath and movement. Taylor’s legs burned, but she refused to complain. If Ryan noticed, he didn’t comment, though at one point he reached out and steadied her elbow when her boot slipped on a patch of ice. The touch sent a jolt through her, and she pulled away quickly, muttering thanks.
Taylor’s legs were burning by the time they crested the last incline, but she kept her pace even, determined not to give Ryan the satisfaction of hearing her huff and puff. He hadn’t broken a sweat, which was both irritating and unfair.
The trees opened suddenly, and there it was: her lookout point. The valley spread wide and endless beneath them, streaks of silver water winding between bare trees, the horizon layered in shades of blue and gray. Even in February, it felt timeless, like the mountains were holding their breath.
Taylor slowed, chest aching for reasons that had nothing to do with the climb. She’d always come here when she needed quiet. It was her place to breathe, her place to write when the world felt too heavy. Now she was sharing it, not with her admirer, but with Ryan.
“Well,” Ryan said, scanning the area, “let’s see what your mystery man left for you this time.”
Taylor moved to the old wooden bench. Her fingers trembled as she reached underneath, half-expecting to find nothing. But there it was: a note taped neatly to the underside, a small velvet pouch tied to it with string.
Her heart kicked. She pulled it free and sat on the bench, unfolding the paper.
“Even the strongest roots need a reminder of how far they’ve come. Carry this with you, and remember you’re braver than you believe.”
Taylor untied the pouch. Inside was a smooth river stone, polished until it gleamed, with a tiny star carved into the surface. She traced the etched lines with her thumb, a lump forming in her throat.
“It’s a perfect skipping stone,” she said. “I always complained I couldn’t find the right one, and Emma always told me I was just being a poor sport because I couldn’t skip my rock as far as you guys could.” Taylor let out a chuckle.
“What’s with the star on it?” Ryan asked.
“The north star. Remember how I always talked about true north and argued that your stupid compass was broken?”
Ryan chuckled. “You got lost all the time out here and always blamed it on that compass.”
He stuck out his hand, and she handed him the stone. He analyzed it, turning it over. Then he scanned the tree line with sharp, assessing eyes.
Taylor frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for him to make his appearance,” Ryan said flatly. “Besides, who gives a girl a rock, anyway?”
She blinked. “You’re ruining this beautiful moment for me.”
His gaze swept the shadows, shoulders tense. “If he knows your routines this well, he could be watching. And if he’s smart enough to plan this whole hunt, he’s smart enough to keep his distance until he sees how you react.”
Taylor laughed, but it came out a little shaky. “I’m pretty sure he isn’t hiding behind a tree with binoculars.”
Ryan glanced at her, expression dead serious. “You don’t know that.”
She sighed, tucking the stone into her pocket. “And here I thought you were going to let me enjoy this without turning it into a criminal investigation.”
“Better safe than sorry,” he said, sitting back down. He met her eyes, and the edge of humor finally slipped in. “Well, looks like I scared the stalker off. Guess it’s safe enough to eat lunch.”
Taylor’s lips twitched. “Lunch?”
Ryan shrugged off his pack, pulling out a folded blanket, foil-wrapped sandwiches, and a thermos. “What? You thought I’d drag you up here without food?”
She blinked, caught between laughter and disbelief. “You’re unbelievable. You didn’t drag me up here. I dragged you.”
“And look who came prepared,” he said, laying out the sandwiches.
Taylor shook her head, but when he handed her one of the warm foil packets, she took it. The bread was crusty, the cheesemelted, the kind of simple comfort that tasted like heaven after a climb.
For a while, they ate in silence, gazes drifting out over the valley. The wind tugged at her hair, and Ryan poured hot chocolate from the thermos, passing her a steaming cup.
“Remember when Emma pretended she was going to run away to these mountains?” Taylor said finally, her voice lighter. “She packed a duffel with Pop-Tarts and comic books and made it as far as your front yard.”
