Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I use the time while Jack is busy getting the prisoners on the helicopter to find a secluded spot to pee.
Nobody warns you how hard it is to dig a hole in the canyon.
Like carving into cement, it refuses to give even one ounce of dust to make things easier for those who stain its surface with footsteps and waste.
But I get it—why the canyon makes you fight so hard to find the joy in its trials and truly appreciate the beauty in its challenges.
I don’t think I’d have learned the same lessons if this had been easier.
I pull out my phone to check my messages.
Mom:
Are you done with your hike? Let us know you’re alive. Dad says he got your internship interview moved to Tuesday.
Two days from now? I thought I had more time.
Dad must have jumped through a lot of hoops and sang my praises a bit too enthusiastically to secure this opportunity for me to shadow the team’s PR manager.
I’m so close to finishing this adventure and conquering my inner beasts, but it could all mean nothing to him once I break the news that I can’t do the internship.
Which also means I could end up with a crippling student loan to pay off.
He’s threatened it enough times, and this news will drain the meager amount of grace I had left after my poor track record.
Mom:
Kuroki’s fungus is getting better. We only have to spray her leaves with rose water three times a day and administer antifungal drops every night.
I doubt my dad ever got this many updates about his actual children when he was away for work.
A weighty exhale rolls off my chest. I could sleep for ten days straight, yet a renewed sense of purpose to finish strong energizes my limbs, giving me the strength I need to lift a pitifully limp Marigold onto my back.
I’m finishing this hike for me, not for anyone else.
No more letting fear tell me what to do.
No more jumping through hoops to earn everyone’s approval, even if it means sliding farther down the chute of parental disappointment.
I think I’m finally okay with all that, assuming I’m not fighting criminal charges when I get out of here.
Just thinking about opening one more textbook or sitting through another lecture on athlete branding makes me want to hurl.
I’m done with letting my parents pressure me to keep trying things that don’t feel right.
In the words of Patrick Henry, “Give me liberty, or give me death!”
A touch dramatic, but denying myself and the world the use of my true gifts and passions would mean a life void of color—gray, and soul crushing.
Jack joins me with a fresh supply of water and MREs from the crew. After the literal dust from the departing helicopter settles, he sets down his backpack and motions for me to sit while he heats our meals, the silence comforting and demanding as it forces me to reflect on the past few days.
Jack hands me a bag of warm stew with a smile and sits beside me.
“It feels like forever ago that I left the South Rim,” I muse, awkwardly scooping out the last spoonfuls of stew. “These things are surprisingly good, by the way,” I say through a mouthful.
“Yeah, I’ve tried a few brands, and these are my favorites. Is your arm okay?” he asks, tucking a stray bit of hair behind my ear. The contact sends my heart rate galloping, and my eyes flick to his, wide and pleading. It’ll rip my insides if tonight is goodbye. I’m not ready to let this man go.
I swallow the knot in my throat. “Yup.”
“You’ve done so well, Lo. I’m so freaking proud of you.”
The milky blue sky draws my gaze as my head falls back with a slow breath.
“Thank you. It feels good—finishing this for myself, not for my parents’ approval.
It’s made me realize how often I simply gave up because I was afraid of being bad at something.
Quitting meant staying safe, and it was easier to say I didn’t want to do it than to risk failure.
So I thought bailing on this hike meant losing the credibility I needed to tell my parents I’m doing a complete one-eighty in my degree. ”
“And that doesn’t matter anymore?” he questions, his voice soft. Safe.
“No, because I’m not doing it for them. I want to prove to myself that I can do hard things and that I don’t have to bail when things get tough. Because I know I have what it takes to finish something when it matters to me.”
“And this matters?”
My head turns to him, my eyes having fought as long as they could to not meet his gaze, but when I finally do, it feels like coming home. “Yeah. It matters a lot. Finishing this with you matters.”
He draws in a lungful of air, like my confession is painful for him, asking too much too soon. And he’s right, but nothing about our time together has been normal.
“Willow…I can’t—”
“I know. We’ll talk about it after.” I look back up at the sky, hiding in the clouds.
“I’m not putting any pressure on you. I’m just telling you the truth.
I wouldn’t be finishing this without you.
And in case I forget to tell you later…thank you for believing in me, for letting me be a part of this when you didn’t have to, and for keeping me safe—”
A short, humorless scoff puffs out of his chest like he wants to disagree, but I carry on, flicking my gaze back to his determined frown. “You did. You know as well as I do I’d be in a whole lot more danger if you hadn’t taken pity on me.”
“I didn’t—”
“Regardless. I’m grateful.”
The chirping of a bat swooping past draws our eyes up, and Jack deepens that gorgeous scowl.
“We should go. It’s getting late. I don’t want you hiking out of here in the dark.” He stands, brushing our conversation away. “Ready?”
I nod my head with an awkward jerk, my hands clammy with dust and nerves. Eyes that are so used to guarding his emotions glisten before he helps me up.
“Two miles to go, right? Then I get a shower?” I ask hopefully.
He winces, one eye pinched closed. “This is more like the quiet before the storm. A doctor will check you out as soon as we get back, then the questioning will begin. It may be a few hours before either of us gets a shower.”
“What’s a few more hours when I’ve gone so long without one already?” I laugh, grateful I used body wipes and changed my shirt earlier.
We begin our two-mile climb, Jack insisting I go ahead of him to set the pace, and each step brings me hauntingly closer to the unknown.
The canyon begins its transformation into its softer alter ego, those harsh rusty reds turning to deeper crimson as the sun releases its grip.
I’d normally find it comforting, especially seeing as we won’t be sleeping here tonight, but there’s something about the change from the harsh contrast of midday to its softer setting that feels like a facade, like the muted tones and romantic colors are meant to fool us into a false sense of victory.
“So, Jerrica didn’t seem to know about Brandon…
” I chew my lip, glancing over my shoulder at Jack, whose hands are bracketed as if he expects me to fall.
“I’m not a drunk baby giraffe. Stop spotting me.
” I add. When I look forward again, I nearly trip on a divet in the path, and Jack grips my arms from behind.
“What’s that you were saying?” he rumbles, his voice sending goosebumps down my back with his mouth so close to my temple.
I clear my throat, straightening before my feet resume their careful steps forward, my thighs burning with the incline.
“You’re right, though. I don’t think Jerrica killed Brandon. None of the footprints around him matched hers, either. I need to get to the top to sort out everything we know. But the suits will probably take over as soon as we get out of here.”
“Suits?”
“Detectives. Criminal investigators. Wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI showed up at some point.”
“Does that bother you? Having to hand over everything in an investigation that you’ve been so involved in?”
Jack snorts out a chuckle. “I get a long debriefing, but they get all the paperwork. Way I see it, I got to do the fun part. You know…aside from you being in danger. That…Yeah, I definitely don’t wanna relive that.”
I turn to smile at his response as a wave of exhaustion hits me, and of course, Jack doesn’t miss any of it. “Let’s rest,” he says, guiding me to lean against the inner wall of the trail.
Jack pins me with a stare after sipping his water. “The danger isn’t over, though. You’ll still need to stay close.”
You don’t have to ask me twice. My traitorous heart flutters at his words, but that niggle of doubt that comes from his hesitation to even discuss any kind of relationship after this ends has that excitement fizzling out.
I’m so lost in thoughts of future heartache and the absurdity of those feelings that I almost forget to drink water. I force myself to take a few sips before we begin walking again.
Jack pulls out his phone when it vibrates with a text, a thunderous glare hardening his face as he reads.
“What is it?” My throat thickens with dread.
“Nothing.” His jaw pulses before a smile looks like it fights its way onto his mouth. “Work stuff. Let’s carry on.”
I decide not to push, certain there’s more to it than that, but the exhaustion weighing every cell in my body down keeps me from prying. Jack is extra determined to distract me during the last hour of our climb, asking questions while seeming distracted himself.
This is it. He’s already backing out in his head, deciding giving this thing between us a go isn’t worth it. A knot sits in my throat, making it hard to swallow more than a few meager sips from my hydration straw.
“It just occurred to me that I don’t know how old you are,” I say. Not that it matters. He doesn’t look too old for my twenty-four years.
“Thirty-one,” he says, not asking my age. He no doubt already knows from doing a cursory background check on me before we left the South Rim.
“Tell me about your trailer.” I pry.
“My RV?”