Page 100 of Love so Hot

God, when did everything get so complicated?

I take a deep breath, steeling myself, and follow River with exaggerated caution. Each step is a deliberate act, my eyes scanning the ground for any traitorous twigs or leaves.

We reach the overlook, and I have to admit, the view is breathtaking. The valley stretches out below us, bathed in silvery moonlight. It would be peaceful if not for the hulking shapes of construction equipment scattered across the landscape like some bizarre, mechanical graveyard.

"Well, isn't this just a lovely spot for a picnic?" I mutter under my breath, unable to help myself. "Nothing says 'romanticevening' like the smell of diesel and impending environmental disaster."

River either doesn't hear me or chooses to ignore my sarcasm. He's too focused on the scene below, his body taut with anticipation. He points dramatically at the machinery, and I half expect him to shout "Behold!" like some cartoon villain.

Instead, he turns to me, his eyes gleaming with that manic light I've come to dread. "There," he says, his voice low and intense. "That's where we're going to hit them. We'll rig the machines to explode when they try to start work tomorrow."

I blink at him, waiting for the punchline. Surely, this is just another of River's over-the-top hypotheticals, right? But as the silence stretches between us, I realize with growing horror that he's dead serious.

"Explode?" I repeat, my voice embarrassingly squeaky. "As in... boom? Kablooey? The whole Michael Bay shebang?"

River nods, mistaking my shock for excitement. "Exactly. It'll be a major setback for the pipeline, and a clear message that we're not backing down."

I stare at the machinery below, my mind racing. All I can think about are the workers who'll show up tomorrow, unsuspecting. What if someone gets hurt? Or worse? This isn't what I signed up for when I joined Earth Defenders. We were supposed to be protecting life, not endangering it.

Before I can find the words to voice my concerns, River's already in motion. "Come on," he calls over his shoulder, "we need to get down there and set the charges."

My stomach drops as I watch him slide down the hillside, his lithe form disappearing into the shadows. This is insane. Not only could people get hurt, but the explosion itself would cause serious environmental damage. The very thing we're supposed to be fighting against.

I open my mouth to call after him, to say something—anything—to stop this madness. But the words stick in my throat. What if he doesn't listen? What if he goes through with it anyway, and I lose my chance to prevent this disaster?

My mind whirls with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. I could follow him down, try to talk sense into him. I could run back to town and alert the authorities. I could even try to warn the workers somehow.

The cool night air prickles my skin as I stand frozen at the top of the hill. River's distant figure pauses, and I can almost feel his impatient gaze boring into me. "Willow!" his voice carries up, tinged with annoyance. "What are you waiting for?"

What am I waiting for, indeed? My fingers twitch at my sides as indecision paralyzes me. The machinery below looms ominously in the moonlight. My next move could change everything, but which path is the right one?

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding so loudly I'm sure River can hear it even from down there. It's time to make a choice.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Willow

18 yearsold

I stare at the perfectly arranged plate of roast beef in front of me, fighting the urge to rearrange the neat rows of carrots into a giant "NO" across my dinner plate. The chandelier light glints off the polished silverware as my father clears his throat importantly.

"I have some exciting news," he announces, dabbing his mouth with a crisp white napkin. "I've made all the arrangements. You'll be attending the University of Pennsylvania next fall, and then it's straight on to Wharton for your MBA. Just like your old man." He beams, clearly expecting me to jump for joy at following in his fossil fuel-powered footsteps.

I take a deep breath, pushing down the frustration bubbling in my chest. Here we go again. "Actually, Dad, I've been thinking about some other options after graduation. Something that aligns better with my values."

The words tumble out in a rush, and I brace myself for the inevitable explosion. My father's bushy eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Values? What on earth are you talking about?"

I resist the urge to bang my head against the antique oak table. How many times have we had this conversation? At this point, I should just record myself and play it on a loop.

"Dad, I've told you before. I don't support the use of coal and fossil fuels. I want to explore alternative energy sources, maybe take some time after high school to really dig into environmental studies."

As I speak, I can feel my cheeks flush with passion. This is what lights me up, gets my heart racing. Not spreadsheets and profit margins, but the thought of a cleaner, greener future.

My father's face darkens like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Oh boy, here comes the tempest. I grip my fork tighter, ready to weather whatever comes next.

"Good grief," my father booms, his voice echoing off the mahogany-paneled walls. "You sound like one of those solar panel salesmen always pestering me at the office. Next thing I know, you'll be trying to convince me to slap some panels on the roof of Greene Energy!"