Chapter 4 #2
I let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh if it didn’t sound so pathetically winded. “Yeah. Sorry.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not blaming you.”
But it feels like blame anyway, or maybe I’m doing enough blaming for both of us.
If only I’d kept myself in check this morning. I could’ve told Milo to wait until we were alone. Instead I stared back at Tanner like some hormone-riddled teenager, let myself get off on the fact that he was right there, and Christ, I definitely didn’t have to enjoy it quite so much.
Now we’re stuck in this no-man’s-land between what we were and what we aren’t, pretending we can hike our way through it without stirring up all the sludge buried at the bottom of this mountain between us.
“We said this weekend would be fun,” he says.
“It will be,” I say too quickly. “It is.”
He levels me with a raised brow, the dark bushy caterpillar of it glistening against his stupidly perfect tan skin in the harsh sunlight.
“It can be,” I amend.
“I’d like that.”
Three words. That’s all it takes for something to unclench in my chest. Not completely. I’m not suddenly cured of being me, but enough that my lungs remember how to do their job again.
“This shouldn’t be as awkward as you’re making it.”
Jokes on him! He’ll have to be more specific!
What exactly is that supposed to mean? The tent this morning? Our reunion in general? The fact that I’ve been mentally undressing him since ninth grade?
Please can he say the thing and put me out of my misery?
I do not say any of that.
Instead, I nod, eyes fixed on the trail even though the mountain has mostly disappeared behind the trees now.
“Okay,” I say.
He’s quiet for a beat. Then he bumps my shoulder with his.
My legs, already reduced to pudding by this stupid hike, immediately give out. One bad step on loose gravel and I’m pitching forward.
Before I can faceplant into the dirt, strong arms catch me around the waist and haul me upright like I weigh nothing. Suddenly I’m chest-to-chest with Tanner, his hands burning through my sweat-damp shirt, his eyes locked on mine as he steadies me on what is supposed to be solid ground.
Except nothing feels solid anymore. Not with his hands still on me and my heart trying to break speed records in my chest.
We stand there for a second, staring.
“Jerk,” I mutter, though there’s no real heat behind it.
He grins. “You’re clumsier than I remember.”
I roll my eyes, but it comes easier than it did only a few seconds ago. “Yeah, well, you were more tolerable before you got all those muscles.”
There it is. Back again. That old rhythm. That pull. The stupid back-and-forth that used to turn my stomach inside out. With our eyes locked, I remember what it felt like to be seventeen and completely wrecked by the way he used to look at me, back before I understood any of it.
His tongue slips out brushing across his lower lip. I watch it happen like the complete disaster I am, and he watches me watching.
When my eyes find his again, there’s something new there. Something I’ve never seen before. Not aimed at me.
Heat.
A heavy-lidded stare, pupils blown wide, his gaze moving over my face as if he’s trying to commit every detail to memory.
I inhale. Pine hangs in the air, but beneath it there’s only him. Sweat, sunscreen, skin, something warm and unmistakably Tanner. It fills my lungs like a secret I was never supposed to learn.
“If you needed a break, you could’ve yelled,” Milo’s tease cuts through the moment, voice sweet and absolutely loaded with trouble.
I scoff so hard I nearly choke on my own spit. “What makes you think I needed a break?”
He flicks his eyes toward Tanner, who lets out a laugh I haven’t heard in years. That full-bodied rumble that used to be as common as dirt between the three of us.
“Yeah,” Tanner calls, already jogging to catch up with Milo. “He needed a break.”
I’m left standing there with my mouth half open, all flustered and offended without being actually mad.
I did need a break, but I’m not about to admit it.
I cling to my fake outrage. It’s familiar. Safe. Much safer than whatever new and terrifying thing is trying to happen here.
Maybe if we can still do this dumb, teasing, easy version of us, then not everything is ruined.
Maybe we’re not as broken as I thought.
As I catch up, Milo falls into step beside me and bumps my shoulder with his.
“You didn’t have to stop on my account,” he stage-whispers loud enough for Tanner to hear.
I sigh as dramatically as possible. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” he says cheerfully. “You hate cardio. Different issue.”
Somewhere in front of us, Tanner snorts.
Traitor.
Milo leans closer, dropping his voice only a little. “Also, for the record, watching you get caught by a hot man was very healing for me.”
“I’m begging you to shut up.”
“I’m serious,” he says. “Growth occurred. Closure happened. My skin looks clearer already.”
“It was a stumble, not a romance novel.”
“Mm. Debatable. There was tension. Eye contact. Core engagement.”
I rub a hand down my face. “Please go be one with the moss somewhere else.”
Instead, he hooks an arm through mine for three steps before I shake him off.
“You spend so much energy trying not to want things,” he says, lighter now but not joking. “It’s exhausting to watch.”
“That makes one of us.”
“No, babe,” he says with a grin. “I’m having a blast.”
Then he raises his voice again. “Tanner, blink twice if you’re planning to kiss him at the summit so I can emotionally prepare.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
But I’m smiling when I say it, and Milo notices. He always notices.
“That’s better,” he says quietly, nudging me again. “There he is.”
When we finally reach the top, I wedge myself between them and stare out at the view. Green on green on green. Sky stretched forever. The Blue Ridge Mountains rolling away in layers, like waves that decided to stay still.
Milo’s arm slips around my waist, and I lean into him without thinking. Then I realize how close we all are up here, shoulders nearly touching, and Tanner’s pinky brushes the back of my hand.
My entire arm breaks out in goosebumps.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe any deeper than necessary. I let the moment sit there and pretend my nervous system isn’t lighting flares.
I take in the world around me. The stupidly perfect view that’s probably printed on postcards in every gas station for fifty miles.
Somewhere in all that open space, something in my chest unclenches. Maybe the universe isn’t actively trying to ruin me for once.
Wedged between them like this, Milo’s steady warmth on my left and Tanner’s electricity on my right, I feel something dangerously close to peace. One on each side, holding me in place when I should probably be unraveling.
The moment is so beautiful, so terrifying, I almost can’t breathe.
It could be this easy, I think.
Anything could.