43. Bryn
Chapter forty-three
Bryn
“I hate hiking. I can’t believe this is what you decided to do. We could’ve gone and gotten ice cream. Everyone knows this is the ideal ice cream situation,” Izzy says, pulling out her water bottle for a drink now that she’s caught up with us.
Kelsey is mumbling at her phone as she holds it over her head, searching for a signal she hasn’t been able to find for the last three hours.
“Do you have service, Iz?” Kelsey asks, ignoring Izzy’s displeasure.
Digging into her pocket, Izzy pulls out her phone and checks it. “Nope. I don’t think I’ve had it the entire time we’ve been on this trail. Another point in the ice cream column, if you ask me.” She plops down on the bench, ready to take a break of her own. Kelsey and I both share a look, ready to get back on the trail, but we’ve heard Izzy rant enough times about how, as the slowest hiker, she shouldn’t be the one who is forced to skip a break. We can either walk slower with her or take longer breaks. We’ve opted for the longer breaks.
Here’s the thing. When I was fourteen, Izzy was sixteen, and Kelsey was eighteen, I would’ve traded my sisters for just about anyone or anything. Three teenage girls in a household meant a constant roller coaster of emotions and hormones, with recurrent battles involving stolen clothes and psychological manipulation. Kelsey has never been too forthcoming about if she had to undergo torture training in the Marines, but I firmly believe she would’ve been the top of her class, based on the shit we put each other through growing up.
Now that we are older, though, my sisters are my best friends. I genuinely like them, and we have the added bonus of having so much in common. Weird cousin is up to his shenanigans? My sisters know all the players in the story and can dissect it with me. My boss at work is up to her shit again? My sisters have been living through the saga with me. Ran into the boy I kissed in high school? My sisters can update me on not only his life but those of his siblings and his parents.
They get me.
Which is why I am now sitting on a rock, halfway through a seven-mile hike. Kelsey and I end up hiking in the mountains quite a bit, but Iz has never developed a love for it. The fact that she is here is actually a testament to how much she loves me.
After Lila responded following her night class and was unable to explain why her brother had gone radio silent on me, Izzy suggested at the unreasonable hour of three in the morning that we drive down to Arizona and ask him ourselves. I protested, saying if he didn’t want to see me, I wasn’t going to chase after him. Plus, it was three in the morning , so why were we even awake to talk about this? Kelsey jumped in to point out that, even if all I wanted to do was break up with him, I still needed to talk to him to do that.
I tried to argue, but the look on both their faces made it quite clear this wasn’t an argument I was going to win. Becca had a meeting she couldn’t miss the next day, but the Harper sisters had poured coffee down our throats and jumped in the car.
After driving for twelve hours, we passed out in our hotel room before waking up to watch Jameson’s last few holes. It wasn’t until we watched him walk off the course that I realized we had no idea where he was staying. No way of finding him now that we were here. I had scrambled, yelling at my sisters that we needed to get in the car right then, but Kelsey had pointed out how futile it would be—he would be gone by the time we could drive out to the course.
Despite not seeing him, I know Jameson has seen the article. If playing his worst round in months wasn’t indication enough, the dark circles standing out prominently against his wan skin on the television screen certainly suggest he’s seen the article and is not okay.
Despite my sisters trying to remain positive, my mind continued to wander, flipping between possible conversations I could have with Jameson and ones I’d already had with Peter. I thought focusing on my work would allow me to be successful. Now I’m being punished for focusing too much on it. For being too good at what I do.
So we went hiking.
“Time to turn around?” Iz asks, screwing the lid back on her water bottle.
Kelsey looks at me, but all I can muster is a shrug. “Sure.”
As we start back down the brown, dusty trail, Kelsey takes the lead, navigating through the desert landscape awash in hues of brown and green. As I follow the path, reminding myself to go around the boulders and sagebrush, Iz slings her arm through mine, laying her head on my shoulder briefly. “What are you going to say to him when we find him?”
“I think at this point we have to accept it’s an if we find him, not when .”
“Nah,” she says, letting go of my arm to make her way around a suitcase-sized rock in the middle of the trail. “We’ll find him. All else fails, we can always stake out the tournament tomorrow.”
“If he doesn’t drop out. He played like shit today. It’s possible he won’t be playing tomorrow.”
“Then we will find him at his place at the club,” Izzy responds, her confidence starting to annoy me.
“Why would he go back to Wild Bluffs?” I ask. “He rented there to be close to me, something he clearly doesn’t want to be anymore.”
Iz shrugs. “He came to Wild Bluffs before he even knew you existed. Sometimes, the wide-open spaces are what we need to settle ourselves. To see the full picture of our life and realize where we want to go.”
“Maybe I should’ve stayed home, then,” I respond. “I could use some clarity about what to do.”
And I could. I know I’m not a good fit for Jameson. I know he deserves someone better than me. And, fuck, I also deserve more than someone who goes this long without reaching out. Without making sure I’m okay after that article was released.
Even as I think it, my heart tightens in protest. I know Jameson didn’t ghost me. I may not be right for him, but he’s a good guy. He wouldn’t do this.
Eventually, Izzy falls back behind, stopping to take a close-up of a lizard along the path, a photo that I’m sure will never make it off her phone because, as much as she loves taking the pictures, they are actually very mediocre, and Izzy has no use for them.
I, unfortunately, have no such distraction. Instead, my mind focuses in stark clarity on my current situation. I’m in love with a man who I will never be good enough for. Once he finally calls me—and let’s be honest, I know he’s going to call me at some point and explain why he’s been out of touch for days—I’m going to have to break both of our hearts.
He may be the one person in this world who makes me feel like I’m worth it, and if he were any other guy, we could make it work, but I can’t do famous. I won’t quit my job so I can spend my days supporting my husband, and if I miraculously win this promotion, I’m going to have to be at headquarters much more frequently. And, while I know Jameson would never ask me to give that up for him, I also know how na?ve that truly is. He is going to get back to the top of the golf world. He is going to have major deals and win all the big tournaments. He is on the road constantly. I’m going to be working all the time. What kind of relationship is that?
But even the thought of losing him is sending shockwaves of grief into my heart. It’s like Jameson currently fills each groove, each capillary, and the thought of removing him is enough to trigger a full eruption of heartbreak.
The sight of the parking lot ahead of me pulls me from my melancholy, and my heart is shocked into action by the buzzing coming from Kelsey’s pocket.
“Finally,” she grouses, pulling out her phone as we reach the flat expanse of trail leading to our car.
Glancing back to find Izzy, who, despite her stops, managed to stay fairly close behind us, I ask Kelsey the question I’m not sure I want to know the answer to. “Did Lila get back to you?”
Kelsey doesn’t stop or turn around to answer me, and I’m about to ask again when she turns, shouting over her shoulder, “Hurry up, Iz. I know where Jameson is!”
“Where is he?” I ask, doing a shit job of hiding the desperation in my voice.
Kelsey is already on the move again, making her way quickly down to my car. “Some bar I guess.”
“Do you”—I start but can’t seem to finish the sentence, to get the question out that will make this all real.
“Know where it is?” she finishes for me, and I can sense the unseen eyebrow raise that accompanied the question. “Lila is there with him now and sent me a pin. It’s about thirty minutes away.”
Izzy catches up to us, panting slightly from her jog to catch up. “I hate hiking. Walking I can get behind, but why do we need to make it harder by adding the constant uphill climb?”
“Because without the climb, you never get to see the view from the top. There’s no reward for all your work,” I respond with the answer I give her every time she asks this question.
“So where is he?” Izzy asks, draining the last of her water bottle before pulling open the car door and sliding into the back seat.
Kelsey sinks into the passenger seat and finishes sending a message on her phone before answering, “Some bar in town. Bryn, I just texted you the address so you can have the car direct you.”
I pull up her message and select the bar as our destination before putting the car into gear and maneuvering around a rusty pickup that had parked far too close to my Tesla for my liking.
Following the directions to get back to the main highway takes the majority of my attention, but as I merge into traffic, I can feel the pressure of the upcoming conversation building, not just within me, but in my sisters too.
Izzy breaks the silence, leaning forward so her head is between the seats, asking the question that has been floating through my head since the article was released, “What are you going to do?” She pauses but continues before I can answer, “I mean, what are you going to say when you see him?” She flops back into her seat. “Ugh. Why am I nervous?”
Kelsey shoots our sister a look of exasperation before turning to me. “She may be overly dramatizing this, but she is right. You need a plan.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder before switching lanes.
“What are you going to say to Jameson when you see him? Are you dumping him? Are you questioning him about how that article came to exist? Are you begging him to stay with you? Are you poisoning his drink?”
“Ew. I’m obviously not begging him to stay with me. The rest are all still on the table,” I joke.
“Good.” I catch Izzy nodding from the corner of my eye. “I’m personally in favor of junk punching him and walking away. Though, I could be persuaded that you should start by asking him where the fuck he’s been the last day and then moving to junk punching if the answer doesn’t meet a certain set of standards.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, and who will be evaluating said answers?” I tease. “And while we are on the subject, should we be developing a rubric to ensure it’s fair?” My sister loves a good evaluative process—it’s one of her primary roles in the firm she and Becca own.
“We all know Kelsey is basically a human lie detector after all her military training. I suggest she be the primary, but you should probably be the one asking the questions to make sure we keep him as off-balance as possible.”
I’m not actually sure if she’s joking or not. I think she is, but there is enough of an edge to her voice that she might be serious. Fortunately, I’m saved from responding by Kelsey.
“They don’t just train all military personnel in interrogation, Iz. You’ve got to stop telling people things like that. I had someone call me the other day to ask if I could help them break into their ex-husband’s house to hotwire his car and interrogate his new wife about the whereabouts of a very expensive necklace. I literally hung up on her. It was so outrageous.”
“Or that’s just your cover so we won’t know it was you when the news reports an eerily similar story,” Iz shoots back.
“Regardless.” I jump in. “I’m going to talk to him alone, so no ninja skills needed by Kelsey.” Catching my sister’s scowl from the back seat, I add with a smirk, “Though I’m sure she would’ve loved to have a warm-up before her interrogation of Wife Number Two next week.”