“We’re not going to make it, Nate.” I struggled to get the words out as I hurried after him on the trail. He squinted through the trees up to the sky, assessing the dark clouds that had come out of nowhere over the last fifteen minutes. “You may be right, Lizzie-baby.” He turned his attention back to me, a playful grin on his face. “A little rain won’t hurt us. Unless you’re the Wicked Witch of the West.” He raised a ques...