Chapter 22
twenty-two
CALLA
I rub my eyes, still groggy, when Jay’s voice cuts through the quiet. “How do you feel about hiking?”
“Uhm…” I blink at him, then glance around, realizing I’m still in his bed. “I feel like it’s walking. But more vertical.”
He grins. “Well, the weather is supposed to be suddenly nice. Sixty-five degrees and sunny.”
I frown. “What the hell. It’s February.”
“Yep. Pretty unusual, even for Georgia. It hasn’t rained for a while, so any hiking trails should be clear and dry. Add a few days of sixty-degree weather to that, and you’ve got perfect hiking conditions.”
I scrunch my nose. “If you say so.”
“I do! You. Me. Right now. I know a good beginner trail with a great view from the top. What do you say?”
My mouth twists. I’m trying this new positive outlook thing. Just experimenting with it, seeing if being upbeat always feels as good as it did at the Waffle House Museum.
So far, it’s been… okay. Baby steps, yo u know?
But Jay is putting my new perspective to the test before my feet even touch the floor this morning.
"It’ll be fun,” he presses. “You’ll get some fresh air. Clear your head. Trust me."
Trust him. That’s the crux of all this, isn’t it? I bite my lip and weigh my options. "I don’t have the right gear."
I hope this will be the out I need, but Jay waves a dismissive hand. "I’ve got plenty. Sponsors send me more stuff than I can use. Come on. I’ll show you."
“Give me twenty minutes. I need to get dressed and brush my teeth.” I can’t think of anything good right now. So I just focus on not thinking anything bad.
What is that, a quarter of a baby step?
When I am dressed and relatively clean, I force myself to go find Jay. He is in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee for me. I open my mouth to ask where I can get sugar, but he beats me to the punch and pulls a bottle from the fridge. “I got this special for you. Can’t have you telling people that I deprived you of your morning brew.”
He tosses it to me. It’s marshmallow-flavored coffee creamer. A smile spreads across my face without me realizing it. “For me?” I open it and pour a healthy slug into my coffee mug. “Thanks, Jay. I’m touched.”
The fact that he put something marshmallow-flavored in his refrigerator full of kombucha and carrot sticks means that he thought about what I would like. He wants to make me comfortable.
Jay brushes it off like it’s nothing. “Drink up. We should get moving.”
He leads me to a small storage room that looks like a sporting goods store exploded. Shelves and bins overflow with jackets, boots, and backpacks. All kinds of gear are in here, everything shiny and new, like it’s waiting to be photographed for a catalog.
He rummages through a pile and pulls out several pairs of hiking boots. "What size are you?"
"Eight." I’m still in shock at the sheer volume of stuff.
He tosses me a pair of boots and I catch them awkwardly. "Try those on. Here are some thick socks too. They should help the boots fit."
I sit on a nearby bench and slip my feet into the rugged, leather monstrosities. They’re surprisingly comfortable.
"Why do you have so much stuff?" I ask. The curiosity is genuine.
He shrugs. "Perks of the job. Companies want me to use their products in my videos. It’s all about brand alignment."
I stand and take a tentative step. Then another. The boots feel solid, like they could conquer a small mountain, or at least a steep hill. "Don’t you ever feel... I don’t know, weighed down by all this?"
Jay looks at me. For a moment, I see something in his eyes. A flicker of uncertainty. Maybe even longing. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. His confident demeanor returns. "It comes with the territory. Here." He hands me a jacket. "You’ll need this too. The weather can change fast up there."
I take the jacket. It’s a sleek, high-tech thing that looks like it could survive a hurricane. "Thanks."
I mean it. This stuff isn’t cheap. Neither is his time.
"No problem." There’s a softness in his voice that makes me think he understands my hesitation. "Calla, this will be great. We’ll take it slow. I promise."
I nod and clutch the jacket to my chest. "Okay. Let’s do this."
The trailhead is more crowded than I’d expected for a Sunday morning. Young families with strollers, retirees with walking sticks, and an alarming number of people in neon spandex mill about. Everyone is stretching and hydrating. I tug at the collar of my borrowed jacket. Already, I feel out of place and overheated.
“Don’t worry,” Jay whispers. “The rest of these newbies follow the marked trail. We’re going to branch off after a bit. That way we can hear each other talk without a bunch of Joe-shmoes hot on our heels.”
“It’s funny that you think I’ll be able to talk and hike at the same time.”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “I keep telling you. We’ll go at a snail’s pace if you want. Honest.”
Jay looks perfectly at ease, like he’s stepped out of one of his own promotional videos. He wears a fitted fleece and cargo pants. Adjusting the straps on his backpack, he glances at me. "Ready?" he asks, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
"Sure." That answer is more of my ‘new outlook’ bullshit. It’s a lie. I already dread the first incline.
We set off at a moderate pace. The trail winds through a forest of towering pines. Their needles form a soft, springy carpet underfoot. Birdsong competes with the rustle of leaves. The air has a crisp, clean quality that makes me uncomfortably aware of my city-dulled senses.
All this pretty nature, and I have to hoof it like I’m fucking Sisyphus rolling a boulder up an eternal mountain.
I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. The stretch and pull of muscles I’d forgotten I had keeps my mind busy. Sweat beads on my forehead. I wipe it away with the back of my hand and curse silently. This is Jay’s element, not mine. Every step feels like a lifetime.
Seriously, are we there yet ?
Still, I can’t deny the beauty of it. Sunlight filters through the canopy in golden shafts, dappling the trail with shifting patterns of light and shadow. A small creek babbles alongside us. Its water is clear and cold as glass.
I steal glances at Jay as we climb. He moves with the easy grace of someone born into the woods. There’s a serenity to him here that I find disarming.
“Blake would have hated this.”
My serenity suddenly sails out the window at the mention of her name.
“What?”
“This. Hiking. She refused to go with me. According to her, anyone that would go for a hike instead of just tackling the stair climber at the gym was crazy.”
For several seconds, I’m silent, my mind churning.
"Why did you propose to her?" I finally ask. "I still don’t really understand. You don’t believe in long-term commitments. Why would you decide that you should tie yourself down to someone who doesn’t like the things that you like?"
Jay stops and turns. His expression is unreadable. "Who says I don’t believe in them?"
"You did. Indirectly at least. I can’t stop wondering why you were prepared to marry Blake."
"I proposed to her because I loved her. Or I thought I did." He takes a deep breath and looks up at the swaying treetops. “The farther away I get from that disaster of a wedding, the more I realize that I was more swept up in the narrative I was telling my fans than anything else. I try to remember how I felt for Blake and….” He goes quiet for a minute. “It just feels fake compared to—”Jay stops midsentence, clapping his mouth closed.
I tilt my head. “Compared to what?”
He turns and looks at me for a few seconds. His blue eyes probe me, studying my face as if looking for hidden answers. But I have none; I was asking him .
“Could we get to the top before we get too tired to finish?” he asks. “I promise that it’s not much further.”
There’s a strange jitteriness to his words that makes me reach out and stroke his arm. “Of course.”
Jay takes off like he’s a rabbit who’s just heard a fox rustling nearby. It is not lost on me that he promised we would take it slow. I trudge behind him, slowly falling behind, feeling upset in a way I have no right to feel.
Then he looks back and realizes his mistake. “Oh. Uh… Sorry, Calla.” He doubles back, falling in step with me. Nothing is said. It’s just companionable silence and hard climbing for the next few minutes. He is as good as his word and stays with me the entire time.
Just when I think my heart is going to give out, we crest the top of the ridge.
For a moment, there is no sound but gasping for breath. I lean against a tree and pant. Jay looks like he just finished a casual stroll while I try not to die. “You okay?” he asks.
I shake my head, unzipping my jacket and pulling my shirt away from my skin. He rubs my back in slow circles and offers me water that he magically pulls out of his pack. I take the water and lean into his touch.
Up here, it’s just me, Jay, and the trees. Who’s going to tell?
At length, I stand up straight and look around. “Did you say something about an amazing view?”
“I did.” Jay’s teeth flash as he smiles. He holds out his hand and I take it. “Come on, Lily.”
We climb the last few steps to a small, lightly wooded plateau. The view punches the breath right out of me the second I see it. The trail was a steep ascent, but this… this is like standing on the edge of the world.
The valley below is a living, breathing thing. I can see a patchwork of bright green farmland squares nestled amongst the sloping hills. Each side of the valley starts off with a subtle rise only to angle and jut sharply upward toward the top. It’s breathtaking. The stream I noticed before snakes into a river that weaves a sinuous ribbon flashing sapphire here and there between emerald hills.
"Wow," I say. I’m pretty sure that my brain has been short-circuited. That’s the most eloquent thing I can muster.
Jay’s face is alight with a boyish excitement. "Pretty amazing, right?"
I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from the panorama. A cool breeze tugs at my hair, and I pull the borrowed jacket tighter around me and zip it back up. For a moment, I forget everything. The fake marriage, the looming career crisis, my ingrained mistrust of men. All that exists is this view, this moment, and the surprising sense of accomplishment that fills me.
Jay sets down his backpack and unzips it, pulling out a small checkered blanket. He opens it with a flourish. "I thought we could have lunch up here," he says, spreading the blanket on the ground. "Best seat in the house."
I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to, but because the idea of sitting still and enjoying something feels so foreign right now. Like an indulgence I haven’t earned.
But my legs are wobbly from the hike. The thought of standing for a second longer than is strictly needed is enough to convince me. "Sure," I say, sinking gratefully onto the blanket.
Jay joins me, sitting cross-legged. He starts unpacking containers from his backpack. The scent of fresh fruit and sandwiches mingles with the piney air. My stomach growls. He hands me a sandwich and I inspect it closely. "Let me guess. Gluten-free, vegan, low-carb?"
Jay laughs. It’s the easy, unguarded laugh that I’ve come to like more than I should. "It’s just a turkey sandwich, Calla. I’m not that much of a health nut."
I take a bite, and it’s delicious. Real turkey, not the processed kind, with crisp lettuce, Swiss cheese, and a smear of mustard. Jay must have prepared these sandwiches while I was getting ready this morning. That warms my heart.
We eat in companionable silence. No one rushes to fill the space. No one needs to.
I watch a hawk circle lazily on a thermal. There’s a serenity up here that I can’t quite reconcile with my usual, frantic life. Should I move to this mountaintop?
Jay finishes his sandwich and leans back on his hands, stretching out his torso. "So, how are we doing?"
I look at him, confused. "Doing what?"
"Connecting," he says, a sly grin playing on his lips. "You know. Getting along."
I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. "I think we’re making progress. The hike was a good idea."
"Told you it’d be fun."
"Don’t push it," I say. But there’s no bite to my words. I’m too relaxed, too content. This is dangerous territory.
He sits up and reaches for a container of strawberries, offering me one. I take it. Our fingers brush. A spark of static, or maybe something more, jolts through me.
It’s time for us to connect in another way.