Shock - Marie Johnston Page 0,47

“Usually there’s more walking, but since it’s your first time, I went easy on you.”

I lift a brow. “Or did I wear you out last night?”

She blushes, but her tone is wry. “Busted. That’s totally why.”

We get out and she heads for the trail. The breeze is strong enough to keep this from being a sweat fest. The longer we walk, the more rundown the fence gets. She periodically checks her phone.

“Are you getting a signal out here?”

“They wouldn’t rate this so easy otherwise. I’ve done a few that took me two full days of exploring.” She speeds along the trail, focused on her prize. “There’s one in Oregon that takes you to a cave in the ocean. You have to hit it at low tide.”

My long strides keep up with her easily enough. I admire the view. The startling blue of the sky mixes with the straight rows of green.

“Then there’s one in Vancouver that sounds like it takes a week to get to the cache and back. I’d love to take a hiatus and travel the world looking for hidden treasures.”

“If only you didn’t need the treasure to pay for it.”

“Exactly. I’d have to bring home more than a mood ring to pay for it. But still, I’ve been thinking of where I can go when I leave Sunnyville.”

She’s getting farther ahead. My pace slowed at when I leave Sunnyville. We just spent the night together and she’s talking about moving?

And that’s when it hits me. The girl I’m falling for has no intention of staying.

Chapter 13

Lia

I kneel down and scrape away dirt that’s exactly twelve inches away from a weathered wooden fence post. At the beginning of the trail, the posts were metal, but as we progressed, they turned into wooden ones that are significantly older.

My trowel scrapes along a surface that’s definitely not dirt. “Oh! Here it is.” I don’t care how simple this find is, this is always my favorite part. The whole point of the trip is the find.

I manage to find the edges of the box and lift it out. The dirt’s been churned enough recently that there’s little resistance.

Ford kneels next to me, a granola bar open in his hand. He’s been quiet the whole trip, but then I’ve prattled on and on about all the locales I’d love to try my hobby at. “Are they always buried?”

“Not always. Sometimes they’re in tree trunks, tucked between rocks, or even underwater, like that cave I mentioned. Have a seat. Part of the fun is going through the swag.”

Ford sits and I take a spot next to him. We both lean over our find. He sifts through the trinkets while I dig out an emoji bandage, my pen, and my own granola bar.

“So, you want to travel?”

I smile wryly over the small bin. “You got the hint, huh?”

“Didn’t your parents go anywhere?”

“We used to take vacations and stuff. I miss that, but that’s not the kind of traveling I want.”

“How do you mean?”

I slip the bandage into the box, sign the logbook, and shut the lid. It gives me time to think about my answer. There’s a difference, but I’ve never had to express it before. “I like to travel with a purpose. Ironically, that’s the only time my parents didn’t have an agenda. When we went to Cabo, it was to lie on the beach and relax. When we flew to Paris my senior year, it was to eat at cafes and go to museums. Sometimes they just booked a suite at a luxury resort and pampered themselves.” And I died of boredom.

“You wanted to explore more?”

“No. Well, yes. I wanted the treasure at the end. A reason for doing what I was doing. Museums are okay, but their purpose is education or enrichment. I had enough of that in school and I don’t know how many fundraisers and holiday parties I’ve gone to at museums and art galleries over the years. I want to see the world from ten thousand feet, and not just to fly to Paris and back. I want to see the mountains and…I don’t know. I want adventure, but with a purpose.”

His gaze is steady, the blue of his eyes almost neon under the sun. “You ever think about being a flight paramedic?”

“You mean like with Mercy Life?” I open my granola bar and take a bite. Ford and I have talked before. We’ve talked about regrets and our past, but this time it’s different. I get to

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