A Blind Spot for Boys

“Definitely not.” The sexy look he shot me could fill an entire bookshelf of romance novels.

A few minutes later, the evidence of another small mudslide lay before us once we’d crossed to the other side. More ragged branches torn from trees jutted out of a thick layer of mud. More ankle-twisting rocks. How many more slides were up ahead? How many more were waiting to unleash from these precarious slopes? What if we got trapped?

I shivered at the memory of our flattened tent. We would have been buried alive. I wondered what my parents were thinking this very moment, wondered about myself always plunging into things without full consideration.…

Far below us, the sound of the river had eased from enraged roar to warning growl. I ventured forward, fighting my fear, hiding my trembling by hugging my arms around myself. I refused to let Quattro know just how scared I was.

We started to hike, the mocking river filling the grooves of our silence. My foot slipped. The echo of my surprised cry reverberated around us.

I fell.





Chapter Twenty-Four


Even Quattro with his lightning-fast reflexes couldn’t arrest me as I skidded along the muddy asphalt. I slid fast. The sky became a blur of eye-poking branches and cheek-scratching bramble. I knew what waited for me below: a ravine with a straight shot down the steep slope. Drop over the cliff and some jungle plant would probably spear me. Adrenaline spiked as I grasped anything, clawed at everything to stop my flight. My torso torqued one way, my right leg the other. A painful jolt traveled the length of my left leg. Quattro grabbed my shoulders, jerking me to a stop before I sailed feetfirst over the ledge.

Sharp pain. Everywhere.

I was too afraid to open my eyes, too afraid to assess the damage, too afraid to feel the pain.

“You’re okay,” Quattro said reassuringly, his hands gentle on my shoulders now, his legs around me. He must have flung himself downhill to rescue me. More firmly, willing it to be true, he repeated, “You’re okay.”

My eyes dared to crack open. He wasn’t on the other side of the river, abandoning me. He was hovering right over me, here, now.

“What hurts?” he asked, steady gaze fixed on me.

What didn’t? Pain radiated from everywhere. Dull throbbing from landing hard on my tailbone. Sharp pangs at the back of my head from bouncing on the dirt. Knife stabs at my ankle.

“My pride,” I answered, and flushed, hearing myself echo Stesha after her fall.

“Can you stand up?”

“I think so.” But when Quattro placed his hands under my armpits, my ankle still gave out. Even with his arm wrapped around my waist, mine around his shoulders, I couldn’t place much weight on my left leg. I gasped. My eyes watered. He tightened his hold. “My parents are going to kill me.”

“Only after they’re through with me,” Quattro said, “and that might take them a while.”

As lightly as I laughed at that, the movement jarred my body. I winced. “I think I need to rest for a second.”

Leaning on Quattro, I hopped on my right foot, gingerly using my left big toe for balance. After a moment of that nonstarter, Quattro swept me up into his arms, glanced around briefly for a resting spot, and lowered me onto a boulder.

“We need to elevate your ankle,” he said, gently propping my leg on the rock. After dropping his backpack to the ground, Quattro crouched down to unzip it, rummaged inside, and pulled out a first aid kit, then handed me an Advil and a water bottle. As I swallowed the pill, he probed my ankle. As hard as I tried not to flinch, I failed.

“Sorry,” Quattro said, kneeling next to me. He met my eyes. “It’s starting to swell. We need to get a brace on this. It might hurt.”

“I’m fine,” I assured him.

Only then did he unroll an Ace bandage and begin loosening my hiking boot. Quickly, he wrapped my ankle, then replaced the boot. I winced as it slipped over my heel; he grimaced.

“I’m fine,” I told him again.

Without another word, Quattro stood with his back to me, head bowed, back hunched. He could have been mistaken for praying except his arms were crossed over his chest, and his fingers were clenched in punishing grips around his sleeves, as though he were the one in pain. I’d have traded ten times more pain, a hundred times, to not be the one responsible for derailing his plans.

“You should go on,” I told him. “You have to go on. I’ll wait here for you.”

What was I saying? It wasn’t safe for him to set off alone. The trail was even darker up ahead. How was he going to see? Hadn’t I just reminded Quattro earlier about the cardinal rule of hiking: Honor the buddy system. His own father had nearly dwindled away after one loss. What would Christopher do if anything happened to Quattro? What would I do?

“I’m not leaving you,” Quattro said finally, turning back to me. His face was tired, defeated.

I teared up at that. “I’m so sorry.”

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