Page 52 of Falling For You

Wyatt caught my eye across the fire. I held it a second longer than I should have and looked away.

Birdie fell asleep between us. She was all talked out, gone mid-sentence, her head tipped against Wyatt's arm. He carried her to the tent. I followed and stood outside while he zipped her into her sleeping bag, tucked her hair behind her ear, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Wyatt put the fire out while I rinsed my face at a water spigot. We passed each other on the way back to the tent. He held the flap open for me as I ducked inside. Birdie didn't stir. I pulled the sleeping bag up to my chin and stared at the nylon above me.

"Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming with us."

I turned my head. He was lying on his side, looking at me over Birdie's sleeping form. The lantern was off but there was enough moonlight through the tent fabric to see his face.

"I should be thanking you for inviting me."

He smiled. I smiled back. Neither of us looked away.

"Good night, Wyatt."

"Good night, Andy."

I turned onto my side and closed my eyes.

A few months ago, I couldn't be in the same room as him without wanting to leave. Now he was a few feet away, and the only reason I was falling asleep out here was knowing he was right there.

CHAPTER 22

The Deer

WYATT

I woke up and she was the first thing I saw.

Andy was lying on her side, one arm tucked under her head, her braid loose against the pillow. Birdie had migrated in the night. She was curled into Andy, her face pressed against Andy's shoulder, one small hand gripping the collar of Andy's shirt.

I lay there watching them. Andy's arm was around her. I didn't know if she'd done it in her sleep or if Birdie had pulled it there, but it didn't matter. They looked like they belonged together.

I got up carefully, eased the zipper open, and slipped outside. The desert was cool, the sky just starting to brighten over the red rock. I got the camp stove going, boiled water for coffee, and set out cereal and fruit on the picnic table. When the coffee was done, I poured two mugs and sat down to wait.

Andy came out first.

"Coffee's ready," I said.

She sat down across from me. Loose strands of hair framing her face, the sun coming up behind her. She looked beautiful even half-asleep with messy hair.

Birdie came out ten minutes later, still half-asleep, dragging her sleeping bag behind her like a cape.

"I'm hungry," she announced.

We were cleaning up after breakfast. Birdie stacking paper plates, me bagging the trash, Andy wiping down the far end of the picnic table. I turned to grab the plates from Birdie, and when I looked back, Andy had gone rigid. The rag was frozen in her hand, her whole body locked in place.

"Andy?"

She didn't answer. I followed her gaze. A mule deer, maybe thirty yards out, was standing at the edge of the campsite where the gravel met the scrub. Just standing there, watching us.

Her knees buckled.

I was next to her in two steps, and caught her before she hit the ground. Her body went limp. Dead weight, no resistance, her head fell back against my arm. I lowered her onto the ground and checked her pulse. Steady. I leaned close. Breathing, even and shallow. Pupils reactive when I lifted her eyelid.