Twenty
Austin
On Friday morning I grip the steering wheel of my black Mercedes G-Class, a machine as sleek and powerful as the anticipation thrumming through my veins as I drive from my house over to the loft. Danica . Her name is a mantra in my mind, a constant pulse that’s driving me half mad.
“Get her out of your system,” I mutter, the words less conviction, more plea. This trip to Yosemite she’s planned for us should break the spell she’s cast over me. A weekend away from San Francisco’s relentless pace should do the trick. It has to.
The engine purrs smoothly as I dial Mom. She answers on the second ring, her voice echoing slightly.
“Hey, Mom,” I say. “What are you up to?”
“Austin, darling! Give me just one moment.” There’s a rustle, the sound of her excusing herself and stepping away. “I’m looking at properties, and this one’s breathtaking,” she says when she returns. “The Potomac looks like a painting from here.”
“Sounds beautiful. Make sure you take pictures, okay? I want the full virtual tour later.”
“Of course,” she replies, sounding a bit distracted. “I think the house is nearly perfect. It’s seventy-three-hundred square feet and right on the river.”
I nearly laugh out loud. “What are you going to do with a house that size?”
“Fill it with furniture, of course. Anyway, what are you doing?”
“I’m sitting in traffic on my way to pick up a friend. We’re heading out to Yosemite for the weekend, and I’m running behind.”
“What are you, Theo, and Rhys going to do at Yosemite?”
I scream silently. How do I play this? I’ve told her about having dinner with Danica here and there, but this is something different, or at least that’s how Mom will see it. She thinks she likes the idea of me settling down, but in reality, she tends to sabotage my relationships. I think she’s worried she’ll be left alone. In high school, I was excited that my crush was thinking of attending Georgia Tech with me. But then Mom said going to the same school meant she was clingy. I know she told my girlfriend what she thought as well, because after prom, we broke up. Josie went to Virginia Tech instead.
“They’re not going with me. It’s another friend.”
“Danica?”
I shut my eyes. It’s my fault for mentioning it. “Yes.”
“Right, Danica.” She hums, curiosity piqued. “Well, have fun, and be safe. I’ll call you later with updates.”
“Will do,” I say. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you more,” she chirps before disconnecting.
I weave through the streets toward Danica’s loft. I’m leaving Steve behind this weekend. He didn’t like the idea, but he needs a weekend off anyway, and I’m sure I’ll be unbothered so far from the City. With that, I try not to think about the implications of this weekend, about the fact that every mile we travel takes me farther from the city where Justin Capriotti’s disappearance lingers like a dark cloud. It’s been six weeks, and we still haven’t heard a peep from him. The police haven’t made much progress, and even Clear Security seems stumped. I think he has to be gone. But how? Why? Crystal is struggling, and that has mostly fallen to Theo to manage. That makes me feel guilty all over again.
But EnergiFusion and its missing CEO are problems best saved for another day. There’s nothing I can do, so for now, it’s just me, the open road, and the hope that I can finally untangle myself from the woman who’s ensnared me.
I pull up in front of the building, gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly. I call Danica to let her know I’m here. A minute later, she emerges from the lobby, her hair catching the sunlight, and I hop out to greet her. She pauses when she sees the car, her eyes widening. “Is this a rental?” she asks, circling the beast of a machine with a mix of awe and curiosity.
“No,” I respond, pushing down the twinge of insult. “It’s mine.”
“Yours?” Her brows knit together. “Where do you park something like this?”
“At my house.” The words slip out before I’ve thought them through, and instantly, I know I’ve given away too much.
“Your house?” She tilts her head, and I can see the gears turning. “Do you have a wife and child at this house?”
“What? No!” I sigh, realizing the fa?ade has begun to crumble. “When I came into some money,” I start, watching her reaction carefully, “I wanted something traditional and very San Francisco. A Victorian gingerbread house was for sale on Alamo Square Park. It caught my eye—one of the Painted Ladies, as they’re called. But tourists are always there, snapping pictures. I needed privacy, so…” I gesture vaguely toward the condo building. “I bought the loft here, for…privacy. If you want to see the house, we can go there now. You won’t see any feminine touches, and I promise no kids or toys.”
She’s clearly taken aback. “Okay. I didn’t mean to pry. I’ve just never heard of someone having a house and a loft in the same city. And you’ve never mentioned this before. But it’s your money. You can spend it on whatever you want.”
Great . I’ve gotten us off to a terrible start. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be defensive.”
She shakes her head. “We’re going to have fun this weekend. Let’s focus on that.”
Thank goodness . “Hey, what did you do about Mischa? Is she going to be okay alone?”
“My best friend, Marisa, is staying over for the weekend,” Danica replies.”
“That works.” I nod, relieved to shift focus from my unintentional revelation. I pop the trunk to stow her bags, eager to get on the road and leave the City behind us.
Soon the road to Yosemite stretches ahead, an asphalt ribbon winding through rolling hills and the occasional splash of wildflowers. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel as Danica counts another red car zipping past us, just a blur in my peripheral vision.
“Seventy-three,” she announces triumphantly, her eyes alight with the simple joy of the game. To fill the time, we’ve got two car games going—count the red Teslas and license plate bingo.
“California plates are too easy,” I note, spotting a license plate from New Jersey. “Now, that’s where the challenge is.”
“Fine,” she concedes with a roll of her eyes. “But you’re still losing.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, punctuated by sporadic exclamations whenever a non-California plate graces us with its presence. But when the game shifts to three truths and a lie, my mind stumbles into dangerous territory. The truth I’ve wanted to share with someone for months now, but can’t, weighs on me. I don’t think Danica would judge me for being secretly glad Justin is gone. His erratic behavior was becoming hard to manage. But that’s a lot of explaining I’d have to do. There’s a lot about my work life she still doesn’t know.
“Okay,” I begin, clearing my throat. “I’ve never been skydiving. I’m not allergic to peanuts. And…I once met Elon Musk at a conference.” I pause, debating if I should share about Justin as the fourth, but decide against it. Instead, I finish lamely with, “And…I’ve never been to Europe.”
“Easy,” she says, pointing at me. “You’ve totally been to Europe. Your condo screams world traveler.”
“Guilty.” I chuckle, yet relief washes over me. I’ve dodged a bullet, at least for now.
Danica’s about to launch into her round when my phone rings, jolting us both.
I glance at the screen. “This is my mom,” I tell her. “Don’t pay attention to anything she says.” I press the button to answer hands-free. This could be a disaster. “Hey, Mom,” I greet her, despite the sudden lump in my throat.
“Hi, honey! Are you on the road to Yosemite yet?”
“Yep. Mom, this is Danica. Danica, meet my mom.”
“Hello,” Danica chimes in.
“Danica, dear, so nice to officially meet you! Please call me Nancy. Austin, I’ll tell you all about the house later, but I want to put an offer on it.”
“Sounds great, Mom.” I pray Danica won’t ask any questions about real estate and my wealth, as that’s a topic I’m not ready to dive into.
“Before I forget,” Mom continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil, “Jennifer, Elaine, Marta, and I are planning an Alaskan cruise. Would you like to join us? You wouldn’t have to share a cabin, of course.”
“Uh…” I hesitate, unsure how to respond. The idea of a cruise with my mother and her friends isn’t exactly appealing, but rejecting outright feels impolite.
“Danica’s welcome too,” Mom adds, ever the inclusive hostess—I think. Or is she up to something?
“Thanks, Mom. We’ll think about it,” I manage, trying to sound enthusiastic.
“Take your time, dear. Love you!”
“Love you too, Mom.” I end the call, feeling Danica’s eyes on me.
“Shall we continue the game?” I suggest. Suddenly, that seems more appealing than an exploration of the conversation I just had with Mom.
I lean back into the plush leather seat. Danica glances sideways at me, her eyes unreadable. She didn’t bat an eye at the cruise invitation, and she’s not giving me the doe-eyed look I’ve come to expect from women when future plans surface. “Listen,” I tell her, “There’s no way I’m going on a cruise with my mom. I want to let her down easy.”
“Sure,” Danica replies, a small smile on her lips. “I can see that.”
Silence settles between us, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It feels like we’re both content to leave the topic behind as San Francisco gives way to open roads and the promise of Yosemite’s natural grandeur ahead.
I reach for the stereo, craving the familiar comfort of screeching guitars and pounding drums. As the first chords of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” reverberate through the G-Class, I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. This is the music that fuels me, that drowns out the noise in my head, the noise that’s been Danica’s voice lately.
“Really?” she teases, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “This is what you listen to? I would’ve pegged you for more of a smooth jazz guy.”
“Ha, very funny,” I retort, turning up the volume. “You can’t beat the classics.”
“Classics, huh?” She leans back, giving me a challenging look. “Well, I suppose every generation has its…quirks.”
She just made a dig at my age. “Hey.”
“I suppose you have some Lynyrd Skynyrd in there, too.” She laughs.
“No seventies rock.”
“Um, hello? AC/DC started in the seventies.”
“Are you going to make old-age jokes all weekend?”
“Only if you’re going to keep on with the old stuff.”
“I suppose you like Katy Perry and Taylor Swift.”
She holds up her hand. “I’m not a Swiftie, but I have major respect for a self-made billionaire who takes control of her career and is nice while she does it.”
Good to know . “I think the same thing.”
Four hours later, we pull up to the park entrance and follow the signs to the Evergreen Lodge.
As El Capitan comes into view, it’s like a switch flips inside me—from city guy to outdoorsy guy. It’s a switch I didn’t know I had. The majestic granite monolith stands tall against the sky, a testament to nature’s artistry. I park the car, and we go to check-in. An efficient transaction later, we’re headed down the path to our cabin, which manages to be both convenient and secluded.
“Wow,” Danica breathes as we step inside. Her gaze sweeps over the high ceilings and the large windows framing the sheer rock face of El Capitan.
“Right?” I agree, taken aback by the grandeur of it all. The king bed looks inviting, but it’s the private deck that catches my attention. It beckons us to step outside and immerse ourselves in the wilderness.
“Check this out.” I slide open the glass door, and we step onto the deck. The air is crisp, filled with the scent of pine and earth. Below us, the untamed beauty of Yosemite stretches out, a canvas of greens and browns.
“Amazing,” she whispers, leaning on the railing.
“Yup,” I reply, standing beside her, feeling the raw power of nature and the unexpected thrill of sharing this moment with Danica. “It doesn’t get much better than this.”
“Thanks for coming here with me.” She turns to me, her eyes sincere.
“Can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be with,” I confess. I lean in, my lips finding hers with a hunger that’s been building since we left San Francisco.
“Wait,” she breathes against my mouth, a hand pressed against my chest, her touch like fire on my skin. I stumble back a step, the heat of desire leaving me disoriented. “We’ve got all weekend.”
“Are you sure?” My voice is rough with need, with more than just physical longing. It’s the tangle of emotions she’s stirred in me since we started this. Now, I’m not sure if a weekend will unravel them or tighten the knots.
“Positive.” Her smile is mischievous, eyes dancing with laughter. “Besides, we have a tour to catch, remember?”
“Right, the private tour.” My mind scrambles to shift gears. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my pulse.
We step out of our cabin, leaving behind the promise of intimacy for the vastness of nature. The guide, a park ranger in green and gray, awaits us down the path with a clipboard in his hands. His name badge reads Corey Johnson, and he offers a professional smile.
“Look at that view!” Danica exclaims, pulling me toward the edge of a lookout point.
My heart skips. “Wow,” is all I can manage, the word inadequate for the sprawling landscape before us.
“Pretty amazing, right?” Corey chimes in.
“Amazing doesn’t quite cover it,” I say. But no matter how breathtaking the view, it’s Danica who commands my attention.
“Corey Johnson,” our guide says, offering an outstretched hand that’s a bit too firm, a bit too eager.
His eyes linger on Danica a second longer than necessary, and I feel a prick of irritation. I reach for her hand and lace our fingers together, making it clear that she’s mine.
“Nice to meet you,” Danica responds, her voice light, seemingly unaware of the silent exchange between Corey and me.
“Ready for an adventure?” Corey asks, directing us onto a lesser-known path that promises a private exploration of Yosemite’s hidden wonders. “We should be back in about three or four hours.”
“Definitely,” Danica chirps, her blue eyes lighting up.
“Three or four hours?” I murmur to Danica as we follow him. It’s already after two. All I want to do is enjoy Danica in our room. This is going to be pure misery.
She squeezes my hand. “We’ll be back by dark,” she says. “And then we have all night.” There’s a confidence in her voice I wish I could mirror.
“Back by dark,” I echo, trying to convince myself this is doable. We’re here to explore, after all, to experience everything this place has to offer, together.
As we walk the trail, the cliffs rise like ancient titans around us, their immensity humbling. Danica’s grip tightens whenever the trail narrows, and I’m grateful for her trust in me, even as Corey continues to flirt.
“Ever been up this high before?” he says, flashing what I assume is his trademark charming smile at Danica.
“First time,” she replies.
I glance at my watch. I think we’re about halfway through. I can’t wait to get Danica far away from Corey.
I chime in, keen to keep the conversation neutral. “Looks like you picked the perfect trail for us, Corey. I’m not much of a hiker, but this seems like just a nice walk in nature.”
“Only the best for beginners,” he says, winking at Danica.
I focus on the scenery to distract myself from my annoyance. “Tell us about the park,” I suggest, steering us toward safer territory.
“Yosemite is full of history,” Corey begins, and there’s a shift in him, a genuine enthusiasm that replaces the flirtation. “The High Sierra holds secrets that go back thousands of years. The Native Americans, the gold rush, conservation efforts—it’s all connected.”
“How?” Danica inquires.
“Take the giant sequoias,” Corey says. “They’re not just trees. They’re living relics, survivors of a different age. And speaking of survival, how environmentally conscious would you say you are?”
“Very,” I answer without hesitation. My mother taught me the importance of caring for the planet long before EnergiFusion put us on the map as environmentally strong.
“Name three things you do to minimize your impact,” Corey challenges.
“Recycling, reducing energy consumption, and supporting sustainable brands,” I reply, meeting his gaze.
“Good man,” he praises, then directs his attention to Danica. “And you?”
“Same, plus I volunteer for beach cleanups,” she adds proudly.
“Beach cleanups?” Corey says, impressed. “That’s dedication.”
Danica squeezes my hand, her smile warmer than the afternoon sun. In that moment, I know. Corey might be laying on the charm, but it’s me she’s here with, me she’s holding on to. It’s a comforting realization, grounding me amidst the soaring cliffs and blooming meadows.
“Let’s keep moving,” Corey suggests, pointing to a distant peak. “There’s so much more to see.”
“Lead the way,” I tell him, feeling a sense of camaraderie now. Maybe Corey isn’t so bad.
As we walk, I realize this weekend is probably not about getting Danica out of my system. It’s about understanding the depth of what’s between us, and whether we can find a common path that leads beyond these majestic mountains.
An hour or so later, an Alpine meadow unfolds before us like a living postcard, wildflowers nodding their heads in the gentle breeze. Corey waves a hand toward the patchwork of colors and directs us to a picnic basket and blanket laid out near the river’s edge. With that, he thanks us for the tour and points us toward our cabin so we know where to go when we’ve finished. I’m so turned around that I had no idea we were close.
I palm a hundred-dollar bill to Corey and thank him for his help.
He heads back toward the main buildings, and I turn to Danica. “Thanks for organizing this,” I murmur. The grandeur of the High Country rises in the distance, cradling the falling sun in its rocky embrace.
“Sorry about Corey,” Danica says, her cheeks tinged pink. “I wasn’t trying to encourage him.”
I pull her close, drinking in the scent of pine on her skin. “I know,” I whisper against her lips. “When we get back to the cabin…” I trail off, letting the promise hang between us
She chuckles, a low, sensual sound that sets my nerves alight. “I can’t wait.”
I pick up the picnic basket and blanket. “Let’s eat this in our cabin.”
The journey back is a descent into shadows, the day bleeding out across the sky. We’re quiet, each lost in thought, until movement in the brush catches our attention. A Sierra Nevada red fox, its coat a vibrant splash against the dimming world, watches us with keen eyes.
“Wow,” Corey breathes, snapping a photo on his phone. “I’ve got to report this.”
Where did he come from?
As he dashes away, excitement crackling in his wake, I turn Danica toward the cabin. Our private sanctuary awaits, the promise of seclusion far more thrilling than any natural wonder we’ve seen today.
I open the door and usher her inside. “Take your clothes off,” I command softly, the door closing behind us with a click that seals us away from the rest of the world.