Page 24 of No One Wants That (Blitzen Bay)

“Hold on,” I say, dialing Raine’s number and putting it on speaker.

“Where are you?” Raine says. I hear music and people talking in the background. “We’re getting ready to barbecue.”

“Are you with Nash?” I say.

“Yeah, he’s right here. What’s wrong?”

“Put me on speaker.”

“It’s Butch,” Raine says. “He wants to talk to you.”

“What’s up, man? It’s Nash. Everything good?”

“I ran into a blue-haired woman on the trail. She fell into the lake, and I think she’s hurt, but she won’t let me get close to her. She said she knows you.”

“Kit!” A shrill female voice comes over the phone. “Oh my God! Kit, are you hurt? Can you hear me?”

“Elle, I’m fine,” Kit yells. “Do you know this guy? Can I trust him?”

“Kit,” Nash says. “You can trust him. I know him. What’s wrong with you?”

“Just a few scrapes. I’m fine.”

“Nash, go get her,” Elle says. “You have to go get her.”

“You don’t need to come out here. I’ve got her,” I say. “We’ll be back in twenty minutes if she’ll let me get near her.”

“Kit, you can trust Butch,” Nash says. “I’ve known him for years. He’ll get you back here and then we can get you over to Big Bear if you need a hospital.”

“I’m good,” Kit says as she starts limping to shore. “And Elle, settle down. I can tell you’re overreacting. I’m fine. I’ll be back in a little bit. Oh, and my phone fell into the lake when I tripped, so if you need me, call me on his number.”

“Okay,” Elle says slowly, “but if you’re not back in twenty minutes, I’m coming to get you.”

As I hear Raine’s phone click dead, I slip mine into my backpack. “It’s Kit, right? Are you going to let me get near you?”

“I guess, since Nash said you were okay.” Her hand’s still pressed against her lower back. “Your name’s Butch?”

“Yeah,” I say, extending my hand to her. She doesn’t take it. “Did you hurt your back?”

“Not my back,” she says, exhaling as she looks up at the sky. “My butt. I fell on a sharp rock or something. It might be bleeding.”

My face twists up as I try to keep a laugh from coming out.

“I’m more than happy to take a look at that for you,” I say, rubbing my hand over my mouth to try to block my grin.

“Shut up,” she says, pointing at me. “You’re not looking at my butt.”

“Okay,” I say, turning away from her. “See if it’s bleeding. I promise I won’t look—unless you want me to.”

“Don’t turn around.”

“I won’t. I promise.” I wait a minute for her to say something. “All good?”

“Yeah. You can turn around. It’s not bleeding, but it hurts like hell. It might be swelling.”

“How would you be able to tell?”

“Do you want to get slapped?” she says, raising her eyebrows.

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