Chapter 17
MILES
Whatever young, healthy version of me agreed to go on this lighthouse hike with Abby after dinner last night is not the same man who woke up this morning.
My bad knee was barking when I woke up, and the cloudy sky told me why. It’s going to rain today.
M: You sure you want to hike? Looks like rain.
A: It’s not supposed to hit until like 2:00 or something, we’ll be fine. Worried you’ll melt? Bring a raincoat.
A small part of me hoped she wouldn’t want to go on the excursion so I could rest my knee, but she must be more determined than ever to do her excursion since she missed the sail the other night. But whatever Abby is doing, so am I.
I’m not skipping out on time with her just because my knee feels like it can’t cooperate today.
Work is slow the next few days because of the marble guy, so I gave everyone, including myself, a few days off.
I don’t want to miss a single second of our time left together, so if she wants me to go on a hike with her, goddamnit, I’m going on a hike with her.
I’m not ready for her to go. I hadn’t realized how dark things had been until her sunshine smile and kindness were lighting up my days. Thinking about spending evenings by myself again isn’t something I’m looking forward to.
Not to mention the unspoken conversation.
What happens to us when she leaves? Until her migraine the other night, I thought I might be okay if she left and we went back to our separate lives.
But now I don’t know how I’m supposed to sleep at night not knowing how she’s doing.
I tossed and turned throughout last night, wishing I were sleeping next to her again, holding her.
Hopefully, this hike will be the right opportunity for me to talk to her and get on the same page.
I pop a couple of ibuprofen and stuff the bottle in my backpack, because I am going to get through today even if I have to do it completely medicated.
Abby and I walk to the lobby together, her in a maroon workout set that leaves very little mystery as to what’s underneath.
I would admire it more, but I have to concentrate hard enough on not limping that I can’t think of much else.
Abby doesn’t need to see me struggling before the hike even starts.
No one else shows up for the hike, presumably because of the weather.
I don’t mind a little rain on a hike, but summer storms here are unpredictable.
I almost say something to Abby, tell her we should reconsider, but there’s an energy about her that has only really emerged since after the magic show the other night, and I don’t want to be the one to burst her bubble.
“You okay?” she asks once we’ve settled in the van. “You seem…you’re quieter than normal.”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“You haven’t tried to flirt with me yet.”
“We’ve been together for like fifteen minutes,” I say.
“Exactly. That’s why I’m concerned. You don’t need more than two usually.”
“Just didn’t sleep great,” I say. A half-truth.
“Is this guy going on our hike?” I ask Abby, keeping my voice low and pointing toward the driver.
She shakes her head. “It’s a self-guided hike, and hike is a very generous word for what this is. Apparently the path is flat with just, like, packed dirt. It’s just two miles in a straight line to the lighthouse and there are signs along the way.”
I raise my eyebrows at her, impressed by her knowledge.
“What? I read some reviews.”
This girl is adorable.
I slide a hand over her thigh, splaying my fingers out across her leg. She puts her smaller hand over mine, interlacing her fingers between mine.
After a half-hour or so, our driver pulls into a gravel parking lot and opens the door for us, helping Abby out of the van. He doesn’t help me, and while my pride is glad for that, the part of me suffering through an aching knee is not.
Even from the parking lot, it would be impossible to miss the lighthouse. It’s a tall, black-and-white-striped, statuesque structure with a bright red top. It looks closer than I expected it to be. Maybe this hike won’t be so bad.
“You have your backpack?” The driver points to the backpack in Abby’s hands, which has water, snacks, and a blanket for us to have a picnic once we reach the lighthouse. He explains there is a picnic table next to the lighthouse for us to eat at.
“We can’t picnic inside the lighthouse?” Abby asks.
“You can go up into the lighthouse to see the view, but there is no food allowed. You must eat and drink outside.”
I take the backpack out of her hands and hoist it onto my back, moving my own backpack to my front.
“You can’t carry both bags,” Abby protests, but I wave a dismissive hand at her.
“And you have raincoats just in case?” the driver asks, pointing to the sky.
“Yes,” Abby says and points to my backpack, which holds more waters, a Gatorade, our raincoats, and a couple of snacks from my personal stash.
“I’ll be here.” The driver points to the van. “But please take your time.”
He returns to the van, and Abby and I turn to face the path.
“Ladies first.” I gesture.
“You just want to look at my ass,” she says.
“Guilty as charged.” I wink at her. Truthfully, I just don’t want her to watch me limp, but her reason isn’t not true.
Abby is right: the path is flat, packed dirt with no hills.
I’d be in trouble if this were a more strenuous hike, but as it is, the dull ache in my knee is just annoying.
Persistent and annoying. The humidity adds a real flavor to the hike.
The air is thick, and it doesn’t take long for my shirt to start sticking to me everywhere the backpacks touch me.
“Are you tracking our distance?” I ask Abby. I normally wouldn’t care, but these bags are starting to feel heavy, and although I won’t admit that to Abby, I’m looking forward to putting them down.
“No, are you?” She twists around to look at me.
“Nope.”
“We’re really good at this, huh?”
“Remind me never to get lost in the woods with you,” I say.
“Same,” she says, and her smile is so utterly adorable that I lose my concentration and end up tripping over my own feet. I catch myself, but my sharp intake of breath causes Abby to turn around and crowd into my space.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, scanning me for obvious signs of injury.
I’m tempted to play it cool again, but I don’t think I’ll be able to hide a limp after this.
“My knee is bothering me today. It’s fine, though.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asks, more incredulous than angry.
“Well, because it’s fine. I took some meds. I have more.”
“Give me the backpack,” she says and gets her hands under the straps. I grab her wrists to stop her, but she keeps trying to get the straps off me. “Miles, just—”
“I said it’s fine, Abby,” I say, way sharper than I intended.
She rears back, hands in the air. “Okay. Fine. Sorry.” She turns around, walking toward the lighthouse again.
Well, fuck.
I was trying so hard to avoid being seen as weak that I managed to look like an asshole instead. She’s walked ahead now and is too far for me to apologize without having to yell.
I clench my teeth as I take my first step on my bad leg.
The first one is always the worst. After that, it gets easier, and after a few minutes, I’m walking with just a slight limp.
I haven’t caught up to Abby, but I never will if she keeps booking it at the pace she’s going.
She has every right to be mad at me; I was a jerk.
She didn’t deserve me snapping at her like that.
The sun disappears behind a large cloud, the darker skies reflecting my foul mood. I’m operating on no sleep, a bum knee, and a short fuse, but that’s no excuse. I need to get it together.
A clap of thunder rumbles across the sky. Abby swivels to look at me, her expression unreadable from the distance. She waits as I catch up to her, her arms knit tightly across her chest.
“Should we turn back?” Abby asks.
“We’re not far,” I say, pointing to the lighthouse.
“But neither is the storm,” she says, pointing to the sky.
“We’re closer to the lighthouse than the car,” I reason. The landmark looms over us, making me feel small in a world where I otherwise tower over people.
“Whatever,” she mumbles. With a shrug of her shoulders, she turns away from me again, but I catch her arm.
“I shouldn’t have snapped on you like that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“When I’m injured, I…I act like a trapped animal. I lashed out, and I’m sorry.”
She nods, accepting my apology but not meeting my eyes.
I hook a finger under her chin and bring her gaze up to mine. “I’ll do better,” I say.
Her lips part. Her eyes drop to my mouth. I take it as an invitation, leaning in to brush my lips over hers.
And then the sky opens up on us.
“Shit,” she spits and unzips the backpack on my front, grabbing both of our jackets out of the pack.
We cover ourselves, and I gesture to head to the lighthouse.
Abby starts to jog ahead. I do the same, ignoring the discomfort in my knee.
The rain is warm, fat droplets soaking through our clothes in no time.
When we get to the lighthouse, there isn’t a dry spot on us, and while the knob turns like it’s unlocked, the rickety wooden door doesn’t budge.
“It’s stuck,” I say.
Abby holds up her hands like “What do we do?!”
“I’ll try again,” I say. This time, as I twist the handle, I give it a shove with my shoulder. Something moves just the slightest bit. I’m going to have to be a lot more forceful.
I hold the doorknob, and this time put all of my bodyweight behind a swift shove with my shoulder. The door releases, but I don’t shift my weight in time and have to catch myself with my bad leg.
The hard landing reverberates from my foot up to my bad knee. I inhale sharply and instinctively pick up my leg to get the weight off it.
Abby is by my side in a blink, grabbing my shoulders. “Oh my god, Miles. Was that your bad knee again?”
I nod, pressing my lips together so tight that I might bite through them.