15. Leyland

Leyland

SATURDAY — 9:01 A.M.

Clementine opened her front door before I could knock, poking her head out with a big smile.

“Hi, I just need to put my shoes on…” she pulled the door open further—body hidden behind it—and tipped her head for me to enter. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll explain later.”

I nodded and leaned against the door, gaze focused on her movements and not the mess she mentioned.

She was in a form fitting olive green Gymshark set, the same brand she wore when we were together . The small heart tattoo etched into her golden flesh poked from beneath the band of the cropped long sleeved top.

“We aren’t running, are we?” Clementine asked as she glanced at me.

The frown pulling at her lips made me smile.

“Nah…” I crossed my arms. “No running, but we will be walking.”

She nodded slowly and leaned forward to push her foot into a pair of beige New Balance before stopping just as quickly.

Her eyes were pinned to mine when she asked with an excited lilt, “Are we going hiking?”

I chuckled and confirmed with a nod and she took off, shouting something about needing the right shoes. She was back soon after, feet donning a pair of Hako’s—same color as her fit.

“You hate to run but get excited about straining your calve muscles to walk long, sometimes elevated distances.”

“It’s different,” Clementine said with a grin as she squatted to fix her laces. “Hiking lets you take in nature at your own pace. Running just feels like punishment.”

“Only when you’re doing it alone,” I mused, reaching for the door handle but abandoning it when she went to pick up the overnight bag I hadn’t noticed before. “You didn’t have to pack anything; I planned to bring you back after—”

“I figured today would be full of driving back and forth for outfit changes, but I’d rather stick with you for the in between stuff too…” her eyes met mine and I tipped my head, trying my best not to over read her reasoning. “I hope that’s okay.”

I was touched she wanted to spend the extra time together, that she wanted to make our date easier on me.

“Of course it’s okay,” I said, sliding the strap of her bag from her shoulder and placing it on mine. “Looking forward to it.”

Clementine and I were on the road after she locked up and I secured her bag in the trunk.

On the way to her place, I’d stopped at a smoothie spot and got us peanut butter and white chocolate protein shakes. I handed it over the second she asked what was inside.

“I should tell you—since we’re pretending you know nothing about me—that no matter what’s done to it, I hate the taste of protein powder.”

“Mmmhm,” I hummed, cutting my eyes at her as I switched lanes. “But you’ll like that.”

Her frown was cute.

“But—”

One look in her direction for a second time had Clementine wrapping her lips around the straw and taking a dainty sip. Her eyebrows shot up, and I laughed.

“Oh, wow…” she took another sip and nodded. “I hate to admit it, but that’s actually good. Is that chocolate and peanut butter I’m tasting?”

I nodded and picked mine up to finished it.

“White chocolate. But make sure to drink every drop. Can’t have you passing out on me.”

“I don’t even want to know if that’s happened before.”

It had, but I wouldn’t tell her; she’d been embarrassed the first time, and it wasn’t on my agenda to make her feel that way again, especially not today.

The rest of our drive was quiet but comfortable, and when we reached Ceder Ridge, Clementine was damn near bouncing in her seat with excitement.

“Which trail are we taking?” she asked while I grabbed the book bag I packed with water and other supplies.

“Cattail.”

“My favorite,” she mused to herself. “We can stop at the butterfly garden along the way.”

I nodded and led us to the trail’s entry.

Once we made it a few feet, Clementine took control—walking ahead of me and stopping along the way every so often to admire the scenery, as if she hadn’t experienced this trail a thousand times before.

When it curved she let out a little giggle that drifted back to me, a sound I could pick out of a crowd. She glanced over her shoulder, the morning light catching her dark eyes, and for a second, she looked almost otherworldly. Or maybe it was me, lost in the pull of every glance, every small smile she offered.

“Are you always this slow or just trying to give me a head start?” she teased, slowing her pace.

“I could be ahead of you, but I like this view.”

The words slipped before I could think better of it. She froze, the smile fading slightly as our eyes met. A challenge seemed to pass between us, something unspoken but powerful.

In that moment, I wanted to close the distance, to act on my feelings. But I couldn’t risk making her uncomfortable, so I turned the mood back to lightness.

“Besides,” I added with a smirk, “someone’s got to make sure you don’t get lost.”

She shook her head, clearly amused. “Trust me, I know this trail well enough.”

We walked in sync, moving between stretches of silence and soft conversation, until we reached the butterfly garden. Clementine moved forward, her hand extended like she could catch the beauty before us, and I watched, mesmerized by her.

“This place is something else,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. But I wasn’t looking at the butterflies.

She caught my gaze, her eyes widening just enough that I could see she felt it, too—the pull, the feeling that every step was drawing us closer to something inevitable. I could feel my heart pounding, her presence drawing me in like gravity.

I took a step forward, closing some of the gap, enough to quell my need to be close. She had this look in her eyes, like she was searching for something specific in mine.

The silence stretched, filled with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t convey yet.

“You express so much with your eyes, even when you aren’t trying to,” she murmured with the shake of her head.

“And what are they expressing right now?”

Clementine took a steadying breath, her gaze drifting down before lifting to meet mine again. “I don’t know if I can name it… but it’s something deep,” she said, her voice gentle, as if saying it louder might change the shape of what was between us.

The air felt heavier regardless, charged with the quiet honesty in her words. Every instinct in me wanted to close the last bit of distance, to reach for her, pull her close and erase the lingering doubts. I didn’t, though. This moment was fragile, like the butterflies floating around us—too delicate to risk breaking.

“It’s not something I’d say easily,” I murmured, my voice low, keeping the words between us, “but what I feel with you… it’s more intense than I let on.”

Her eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe that’s why it scares me,” she admitted, breaking eye contact as she looked out over the garden, her fingers grazing the petals of a nearby flower. “What if I don’t measure up to the version of me you dreamt of?”

Clementine’s question broke that internal battle about keeping distance between us. I stepped into her space and gently reached out to tuck a loose curl back into place. My fingers lingered just a moment too long, as if asking permission to stay.

“It doesn’t have to be scary or filled with thoughts of not being enough,” I said, voice tinged with hope I couldn’t quite conceal. “We’re taking this one day at a time, no pressure.”

Her gaze met mine, searching, and I saw the faintest flicker of hesitation before she let out a quiet sigh, her smile turning a little shy.

“Right,” she whispered with a nod. “One day at a time. No pressure.”

The moment wrapped around us like an invisible cocoon, and all I wanted was to stay locked in it. I felt her hand brush against mine, and for a few precious seconds, she didn’t pull away. She glanced up, her expression open, inviting something more. But just as quickly, she took a tiny step back, breaking the contact.

I swallowed the feeling of loss that her movement left behind, hoping my smile hid just how much I wanted more.

“Ready to keep going?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

We started down the path again, side by side, each step blending the weight of what we felt with the unspoken promise of what could come next. But what I thought was the end of whatever moment we could have had on this trail, Clementine surprised me by slipping her fingers through mine.

“Letting go didn’t feel right,” she confessed before I could speak. “I want to move past doing things that don’t make me feel good.”

I watched her from the corner of my eyes.

“And holding my hand makes you feel good?”

Clementine laughed softly, like she couldn’t believe what was about to come out of her mouth.

“Not just holding your hand…” she shook her head and finally gave me her eyes. “But you. You make me feel good, Leyland.”

Her words felt like déjà vu; she’d said them to me before, but why couldn’t I remember when? Or why?

I shook away the weird feeling coursing through me and returned the sentiment.

“You make me feel good too, Clementine.”