Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter
Twenty-Four
I survive six months without a new message from my brother and only long-distance correspondence with Dominic Perry. On the anniversary of Josh’s death, I hid in a spa bathroom in a fuzzy robe and texted Dom, asking for pictures of the letters we had opened so far.
Less than five minutes later, the images came through, and I read them as eagerly as the first time.
Dom’s name had then promptly lit up on my phone, calling me. I ignored it. Mainly because I was afraid all the grief in my chest would twist into anger like it tended to around him and I’d say something awful.
Before I left the bathroom, I texted him a type of apology.
Maddie: Can’t talk now. Looking forward to our next trip.
The trip that we’re on now. The views are breathtaking.
Literally.
The hike out here was hell on my lungs. I thought my tendency to walk to all my destinations in the city prepared me for this. But traversing a few blocks in Seattle is a lot different from trekking miles through the South Dakota backcountry, even if the website described it as “flat and easy to walk.”
I rightly guessed that at least one of the destinations Josh sent us to involves physically exerting myself. He was a wilderness photographer after all. My brother would want to spend his afterlife in beautiful, remote places.
And that’s exactly what the Badlands are. A national park full of prairies and jagged rock formations striped with lines of faded brown, rusty orange, and brick red, each layer designating another moment in time. The place is gorgeous and alien. Dom and I haven’t passed another hiker in a while, and I could almost believe we’re on another planet.
One full of chubby prairie dogs.
Last night we arrived late at the bed and breakfast I booked for us after my flight got delayed five hours and Dom waited around the whole time. Exhausted from the stress of almost ruining this trip, I mumbled “Good night” to my travel companion, stumbled into my bedroom, and fell into a deep sleep. But Dom made sure to knock on my door first thing this morning so we could get on the trail.
I’m glad I invested in a set of hiking boots. My sneakers would not have done well on some of the rocks we had to scramble over.
“Do you need your inhaler?” Dom asks, staring hard at me rather than the gorgeous vista surrounding us.
We’ve come to a stop at the exact halfway point of the five-mile trail. Roughly the spot where the coordinates sent us. I wave him off, then brace my hands on my knees and try to remember the breathing exercises a specialist taught me years ago.
Dom hovers a moment longer, then gives me the space I requested. Still, I can feel the concern radiating off him. The sensation isn’t as bothersome as it once was. Not since I realized the reaction has more to do with his fear of losing control rather than believing me incapable. At least, I hope he doesn’t think the latter.
“Why don’t you—” I suck in another breath, the cold, dry air scraping against my lungs. But I power through. “Read the letter?” The hike might not have irritated my lungs so much if there was more humidity. That’s the thing about my asthma. There are certain combinations that wreak havoc on my airways.
Confident that I’m not on the verge of passing out, I press my CamelBak mouthpiece past my lips and drink deep. I bought one of the water bladder bags after our ghost-town trip so Dom wouldn’t be in charge of my hydration again.
Dom keeps his eyes on me as he slips off his backpack, unzips the outside pocket, and tugs out a familiar envelope.
South Dakota
43°45’50.9” N
101°58’10.0” W
But he doesn’t immediately open it and start reading. Instead, he strides closer to a cluster of rocks and sets his ass down on a boulder. Then he pats the empty spot beside him.
The command is clear.
Sit.
Or maybe it was a request.
I roll my eyes but decide not to fight him on this. Besides, it is a nice spot to admire the view.
Only when I’m settled at his side does Dom slip a thumb under the fold of the envelope and tear. Instead of watching his fingers unearth the small piece of my brother, I keep my eyes forward on the lines of time marked on the landscape.
And I wait to hear Josh’s words in Dom’s voice.
Dear Maddie & Dom,
Welcome to South Dakota!
You should be in the middle of the Badlands right now. That name is pretty awesome, right? And from what I’ve heard, inaccurate. Because everyone who’s told me about the place says it’s a view like no other.
Take it in for me. And take a picture, of course.
Since I sent you on such a long trek, I’m confident you’ll find the perfect spot to leave a piece of me behind. Make sure I have a good view. I want to see it all.
Dom pauses in his reading, and I glance over to watch his throat bob as he swallows.
I don’t blame him for needing a break after only a few sentences. Even in our voices, all I hear is Josh when we read the letters. I hear his humor. His excitement. His hope.
And his regret.
Maddie.
It takes me a breath to realize Dom’s started to read again.
I know the hike couldn’t have been easy. But I’m glad you walked it. I hope you think it was worth it. Either way, you deserve a treat.
“Oh hell.” I wheeze. “What does that mean?”
Did you know that Dom has a—
“Oh come on, Josh.” The man in question groans my brother’s name.
I grin and bump my shoulder against his. “Keep reading.”
Dom shoots me a glare without heat, then returns his attention to the letter and reads with obvious reluctance.
Did you know that Dom has a beautiful singing voice? And did you know that a part of hiking safety is to make plenty of noise to discourage bears from stumbling upon you?
On the return trip, consider Dominic Perry your personal radio. And I want you to play all my favorite songs.
Enjoy yourself, Magpie.
Love,
Josh
I laugh so hard I start coughing. But the loss of breath is worth it. And so is this hike if I get to force Dominic Perry to sing for me.
He scowls. “There aren’t bears in the Badlands. This isn’t fair.”
“Oh, Dom, my boy.” I pat his shoulder. “Life rarely is. Better you learn early on. And you heard him. I deserve this. Now, what were a few of Josh’s favorites?”
He carefully folds the paper and slips it back into the envelope. “I distinctly remember him saying he liked silence.”
I snort. “Really? Because I distinctly remember him playing Paramore on a loop because he had a major crush on Hayley Williams.”
Dom sighs. “I can’t argue that.”
Leaning back on my arms, I admire the prairie grass bending in the strong wind while sorting through my mental list of Josh’s favorite songs so I can be prepared for the hike back.
“Do you think this is the perfect spot?” Dom asks after a stretch. “To leave him?”
Leave him. My heart beats in a heavy, painful pound.
But, after running my eyes over the beautiful expanse of wilderness, I nod. “Close to perfect as we can get.”
I pull the South Dakota Rubbermaid out of my pack and pop the lid. My knuckles are white from my tense grip, but Dom doesn’t comment on the hint of vulnerability. He’s good about that. Letting me feel how I feel in these hard moments, and simply staying by my side through them.
I tilt the container so my brother pours out and mixes with the wind. As the last particles are swept away, a hawk glides overhead, and I take a small amount of comfort in the idea that Josh might encounter the bird.
Maybe he’ll go on a few adventures with it.
“Happy travels,” I murmur.
“Time for a picture.” Dom slips his phone from his pocket.
I heave myself off the rock, and Dom rises to stand next to me. An idea pops into my head, and I scramble onto the boulder until I’m standing, which puts my head a few inches higher than Dom’s.
“I’m going to be the tall one this time,” I tell him while holding my hand out for his phone.
He narrows his eyes, but his tight lips fight a smile. And he passes his phone over.
At this elevated position, I easily drape an arm around Dom’s broad shoulders, and even with my shorter arms, I manage to snap a selfie of the colorful hills behind us with both of our faces in the frame.
“Looks good. Send it to me when we get reception.” I return his phone, then rub my hands together. When we were hiking, the constant movement kept my body plenty warm. But now the chill of the cloudy day seeps past my fleece pullover and into my skin.
“Are you ready to head back?” Dom stares up at me, and I can’t help thinking how good he looks in his knitted hat.
“What’s the rush?” Even with Josh in the wind, I’m reluctant to leave this spot, knowing that walking away will be the true goodbye.
Dom tilts his head south, and I stare into the distance where some ominous clouds lurk. “There’s a chance of storms. Thought it wasn’t until later tonight. But from the looks of that, the weather might hit faster than we expected.” Tension tightens his voice.
Oof. I’m barely equipped to deal with the outdoors on a decent weather day. Storms and Maddie Sanderson do not mix.
Plus, we have a four-hour drive to North Dakota.
“Yep. Let’s go. I’m feeling good.” Which is the truth as far as my body is concerned. My breathing has calmed, and this return trip is flat just like the way out here.
I should be good.
—
I am not good.
Ahead of me, Dom hikes at a steady pace while singing “Misery Business.” The moment he started “Still Into You,” I was in heaven. Josh was right, Dom is a fantastic singer. And once he agrees to a bit, the man commits. The guy has been singing for half an hour. The lung capacity is impressive. As is the knowledge of Paramore’s backlist.
This experience would be perfect if each inhale didn’t feel like forcing honey through a straw wrapped in rubber bands.
“Break!” I wheeze out, settling on a relatively flat rock and trying to get as much air into my lungs as I can before Dom realizes how much I’m struggling. He appears before me, all broad shoulders and brooding. “I’m fine,” I gasp.
“You would be. If we had time.”
I jerk back in surprise. I fully expected Dom to say, You’re not fine, Maddie. You’re a mess. You can’t breathe. Where’s your inhaler?
“I’ve been pushing our pace.” Dom glances toward the sky, and I follow his gaze to spy the dark clouds gathering directly above us. The wind has also picked up, grabbing at the hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail.
A storm is coming, and with the harsh chill in the air—the same one drying out my throat—I’m betting we’re about to get snowfall in the Badlands.
Dom crouches in front of me, his eyes worried. “On a nice day, I know you could hike this, Maddie. We could break when you needed and take our time, and I wouldn’t try to take over. I swear. But I’m worried we’ll get stuck here if we don’t pick up the pace. Honestly, I’m not sure we should drive to North Dakota today, either. Not if it starts snowing.”
“I’m going as fast as I can.” The words aren’t defensive. They’re hopeless.
This is my best , I’m saying. If I push myself more, I’ll be out of commission.
Dom reaches for my hands. “Let me carry you. Please.”
“What?” I shake my head. “You can’t do that.”
Dom’s lips tilt up at the corner. “Wanna bet?”
His playful expression disarms me. “Yeah, actually. I do.”
He shrugs. “Fine. What are your terms?”
Hmm. A game. That’s always how Josh got me out of my shell, too.
An evil, playful urge rises in me.
“If you can’t carry me all the way back to the car, then…I get your letterman jacket.”
Dom barks out a laugh. “You came up with that fast. Deal. If I win…” His eyes drag over my body, then return to my face. “You have to let me stay the night at your place before we go to Idaho.”
I gape. “You want to stay at my place? Why?”
His smile grows to a full grin. “I’ll tell you when I win.” Dom slips off the straps of his backpack and situates the bag to hang on the front of his body. Then he crouches, facing away from me in the universal sign of Climb on, it’s time for a piggyback ride .
I heave off my rocky seat, wrap my arms around Dom’s neck, and let him hook a grip under both of my legs. Then the man straightens, standing easily, as if my extra weight means nothing.
“Let me know if you need to stop,” he says over his shoulder as he strikes out on the trail.
“Let me know when you need to set me down,” I taunt back. “Hell, I’m gonna look so cool in that jacket. All the cheerleaders are going to be so jealous.”
Dom snorts, and I feel the way his chest jumps with the abrupt exhale. In this position, there’s not much about Dom I don’t feel, even through my layers. The guy is like a walking, talking oven, toasting the front of my body where I’m mashed against his back. My boobs are flattened against the shifting muscles of his shoulders. Not that I’m complaining.
But I might need a distraction.
“Hey, Dom.” As I speak into his ear, I spy goose bumps scattering along his strong neck.
He swallows. “Yeah?”
I rest my chin on my bicep and wonder if he can see my smirk out of the corner of his eye.
“This doesn’t get you out of singing. Josh also had a crush on Avril Lavigne. Let’s hear some ‘Sk8ter Boi.’?”