Page 17 of The Quit List
Which is ironic, because she’s now married to the human equivalent of a Ken doll.
Hockey Superstar Ken.
Maddie’s husband, Sebastian, flashes me a very Ken-esque dimpled grin as he eyes the scratches. Battle wounds. “Maybe Laurel was the cougar.”
We are currently seated on a nice patio in the warm spring sunshine, plates piled high with burgers and fries. A picture-perfect family get-together for a pitch I’m sure they have no idea is coming.
But I have to get through this explanation first. Which, yes, they are both going to laugh at me for, but I’m hoping this story will lend itself to said upcoming pitch…
Leaning back in my chair, I sigh. “Laurel is responsible for said mauling, yes.”
“Ew!” Maddie yells, covering her ears. My dog, Rick, who was previously curled up at her feet, jumps up, gives her what I can only describe as a dirty look, and stalks over to flop down at my feet. He gives a dramatic groan and I lean down to rub his head. I feel ya, buddy. “That’s disgusting, Jax.”
While my sister looks straight-up offended, Seb looks almost impressed. “Not my thing, personally, but if that’s what you’re into, bro, I?—”
I hold up my hands before Seb can finish that particular thought. “Calm down, everyone.” I smirk. “She scratched the hell out of my arms because she was scared of falling into a ravine. Hence the hiking life jacket.”
“Oh.” Maddie smacks my arm. “Why on earth didn’t you lead with that?!”
Seb frowns as he picks a piece of tomato off his sandwich and tosses it to Rick. “She was scared of falling… into a ravine?”
“Yup.”
“But are there any ravines anywhere near?—?”
“Nope.”
Seb’s frown deepens. He’s from Western Canada—moved down here to play for Atlanta’s NHL team, the Cyclones—and so he’s very-well acquainted with the outdoors. “Are there any bodies of water, of any kind, that one could potentially fall into?”
“There’s a stream by the trail.”
“Well, that makes sense.” My sister nods decisively. “Better safe than sorry. And if she can’t swim, a life jacket is probably a good precaution.”
Maddie isn’t actually my sister, but my stepsister, and if her small stature, pale skin, green eyes and light brown hair are good indicators that we’re not blood related—I’m tall, broad-shouldered, and have dark features—then her general hatred of the outdoors is the clincher. She’s the worst hiker I’ve ever seen. Camping is like torture for her.
Which is why the proposition I’ve got for her today has to be delivered delicately, at best…
“The stream’s about two inches deep.”
“People can drown in only a couple of inches of water, you know!” Maddie retorts. “I read that somewhere recently.”
“I think that’s toddlers, love.” Seb smiles at his wife affectionately.
“Still…” Maddie insists, then looks at me, eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t explain the scratches.”
“Laurel wanted me to carry her across the stream,” I admit, my brain practically throbbing at the (literally) scarring memory.
“The two-inch-deep stream?” Seb says with amusement.
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“In case she got carried off in a current and somehow plummeted into said non-existent ravine.”
“Wow.”
I nod. “So I picked her up and started to walk across the stream, and that’s when we saw a little family of deer, and… Laurel lost the plot.”