Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
CALLUM
“I could have carried more.” Parker’s complaint was interrupted by the huff of her labored breath.
“This hike is a five-mile loop, and you’re no’ used to hiking that far at all, let alone with a loaded pack. You said yourself that if you overdo, you’ll pay for it, so we’re being smart about this.”
I’d been researching fibro a bit in my spare time, and I was worried that most hiking gear would rest right on the multitude of tender spots that would set off a flare. For today’s outing, I’d kitted her out with nothing but a camelback water bladder and some trekking poles. If she handled that well and enjoyed it, I’d look into getting her some well-padded, ultralight gear. For now, I carried most of the extra supplies, save for the water and wee first aid kit attached to the tactical harness she’d bought for Falkor. It was a far cry from the heavy packs I’d carried during my military service.
“I’m doing fine.”
“You’re doing beautifully.”
The trail I’d chosen wasn’t especially arduous by hillwalker standards, but I’d still made sure we took frequent breaks. Now that I knew about her condition, I had a better idea what to keep watch for. So far, I hadn’t seen any signs that she was pushing too hard. There’d been a few difficult, boggy spots we’d had to traverse early on, but she’d taken her time, utilizing the poles, me, and the dog, as needed, to get through. The volume of mud Falkor was wearing now was a little alarming, but I already had a plan for taking care of that, so she didn’t have to wrangle a hundred pounds of smelly dog into her postage stamp of a shower after today.
“How much further?” Parker asked.
“About ten minutes, give or take.” I glanced back at her. Despite her breathlessness, her eyes were bright with determination. “We can take another break if you need.”
“No, I want to push through. Unless you need a break?” The teasing lilt in her voice made my lips twitch.
“Cheeky wee thing.”
“I’m not wee. I’m perfectly average-sized. You’re just a giant.”
“Average-sized for where? The Shire?”
She let out a surprised laugh. “Did you just make a Lord of the Rings reference?”
“I’ve read books.” I tried to sound offended, but her delighted expression made it difficult to maintain the grump.
“You totally don’t strike me as someone who’d be in to fantasy.”
“Shows what you know. I’ve got layers.”
Her grin widened. “Like an onion?”
“Christ, now you’re quoting Shrek at me?”
“I can’t help it. You keep setting yourself up.” She paused at a switchback to catch her breath. “Besides, making you smile is worth the effort.”
Resisting the urge to rub at the warmth unspooling in my chest, I reached back and offered my hand, telling myself it was just to help her over the uneven ground. “Come on then, Hobbit. Let’s get you to the top.”
We had the top to ourselves. One of the benefits of our day off being a Monday. The summit offered a sweeping view of the glen that stretched out below in a patchwork of deep greens where spring was just beginning to touch the mountainside. The morning mist had burned off, leaving the sky a bold, crystalline blue that seemed to stretch to the horizon and beyond. A light breeze carried the rich scent of peat and evergreens, and somewhere far below, a stream caught the sunlight like scattered diamonds.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off Parker.
She stood at the edge of the trail, Falkor pressed against her leg, her face tilted up to catch the sun. The wind had pulled strands of dark hair free from her practical braid, and her cheeks were flushed from the exertion of the climb. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she took in the view, her lips parted in a soft ‘oh’ of appreciation.
I’d been up here a few times since we’d opened Out of Bounds Scotland, led a handful of tourists up here to experience it. But watching her drink it all in, seeing the pure joy practically radiating from every pore, made me feel like I was seeing it for the first time. The way she reached out, almost unconsciously, as if she could gather the whole magnificent landscape into her arms, struck something deep in my chest.
This. This was why I’d chosen this path after leaving the Marines. Not the tourists with their selfie sticks, but the chance to share something real, something profound, with someone who truly appreciated it.
“Worth it?” I asked, my voice rougher than I’d intended.
She turned that beaming smile on me. “Absolutely.”
When she held out her hand, I took it, letting her pull me close. We flowed into each other, our mouths meeting on mutual sighs, and I tasted that incandescent happiness on her lips. This moment right here was worth every mile, every minute of planning.
With a little hum of pleasure, she dropped back to her feet. “Thanks for bringing me up here.”
I tucked a loose lock of her hair behind one ear. “Anytime, Hobbit. Let’s have a snack and a wee bit of a rest before we start down.”
“That sounds good.”
While she unclipped the collapsible bowl from Falkor’s harness and filled it with water, I pulled out the lightweight waterproof picnic blanket from my pack and spread it on a relatively flat spot, sheltered from the worst of the wind by a cluster of boulders. From the depths of my pack came a couple of stainless-steel containers. The first held sliced chicken and apple with local cheddar. The second had oatcakes and the wee chocolate biscuits I knew she’d developed a fondness for. I’d also packed dried fruit and nuts, plus two insulated bottles—one with more water, one with hot tea that I’d brewed just before we left.
Nothing too heavy, but I’d put some thought into it. I wanted her first proper hike to be memorable.
Parker settled onto the mat with a grateful sigh, her eyes lighting up as I began to open each container. Falkor flopped down beside her, still panting from the climb but alert, his eyes scanning the horizon.
“This is perfect.” She selected an oatcake and layered it with chicken and cheese. “I was expecting protein bars and trail mix.”
I tried not to look too pleased with myself. “Aye, well, had to make it special, didn’t I?”
“Mmm, this is Pippa’s cheese.”
I lowered myself to the blanket beside her. “Already a connoisseur, are you?”
“I feel like once anybody’s had Pippa’s cheese, they can’t go back.”
“True enough.”
The wind caught her hair again. She looked so fucking right up here, surrounded by nothing but sky and mountains.
“You know, you’re really fucking impressive.”
Parker gave an exaggerated flip of her hair. “I know. I have highlighters and spreadsheets, and I know how to use them.”
“Not that.” I paused. “Although, aye, that. But you have this condition that most would argue is a disability. Yet you dinna let it define you or stop you.”
She sobered, her eyes shuttering a little as she built another wee sandwich.
I knew I was treading on a different kind of boggy ground as I continued. “I realize I’ve been doing both those things with my own situation.”
Her expression softened, and she laid a hand on my leg. “Believe me, it took a while. I’ve had years more time to get used to my situation than you have. Be gentle with yourself.”
“I’m no’ exactly a gentle man.”
“Liar.” But her smile took any sting out of the accusation. “You’re selectively gentle.”
“Aye, well, you’re the exception.”
“Still counts,” she declared. Since I wasn’t moving toward the food, she built a little sandwich for me and handed it over. “Here.”
I accepted the food with a nod of thanks. “How is it you can stay so positive all the time?”
She poured some of the tea into one of the collapsible cups. “It’s a choice. I can’t change that I have this condition, but I can choose not to let it rule my life. That doesn’t mean I don’t accommodate myself, and I have to make long-term forecasts for contingency plans for anything I do in a way that most people don’t.” She looked back at the sweeping valley below. “But doing this? This was a huge accomplishment for me.” Fierce satisfaction dripped from every word.
Driven by an urge I didn’t want to analyze too closely, I snagged her hand in mine. “You make me want to be better. To make different choices.”
The smile she turned on me warmed something in my chest that had long gone cold. “Good.” And when she kissed me again, I vowed I’d keep making those better choices, so long as she stayed in my life.