Chapter 14
Joshua Tree National Park is unique from any national park I’ve ever been to. In place of towering trees are immense boulders in all shapes and sizes. I feel like I’m in an alien landscape, a tiny ant trundling through, attempting to scramble up the sides of these monstrosities.
It’s eight a.m. and I’m feeling incredible despite the fact that I spent way too much time with Ellis last night. With mushrooms you get the best of a buzz without any of its lingering headaches, unless you continue to flirt with the twenty-eight-year-old when your fated is right there.
And especially when you unburden your deepest traumas to him. So, despite feeling great physically, I have a bit of an emotional hangover. Every few feet, I wince at the memory of the intimacy that I allowed on my indulgent mushroom trip.
I skirt past a family taking photos in front of a cluster of rocks the color of a sunset and think about how, if I’m being completely honest with myself, last night it moved a lot past a fling.
And all along, I’ve sensed how all-in Ellis is in his approach with me.
And if he sensed any currents between me and Daniel, he didn’t show it.
There’s a particularly large rock formation in front of me and I approach it with absolutely no plan. I just want to reach the top. To make my body struggle so my brain stops spiraling.
I start on the lower rocks—peach-colored and slightly bleached out by the sun. My hiking boots get an easy grip on those. Once I reach the tallest rock, though, a rust-red obelisk, I lose purchase. My hands can’t find anything to hold on to, my feet the same.
“Shit,” I mutter as I slide down and stare up at it, pushing my wide-brim straw hat back so it hangs from my neck.
“Need some help?”
I glance down and Daniel’s standing at the base of the rocks. Oh.
He’s wearing sunglasses, a Cal cap, and hiking shorts with a plain white tee. A backpack and good, well-worn hiking boots. I’m nervous at the sight of him.
“I am stupidly determined to make it to the top of this thing,” I say with my hands on my hips. “Apparently I have a death wish for my fortieth birthday.”
Daniel laughs, a low chuckle that brings to mind dim lighting and brown liquor. “On my fortieth, I went to New Orleans with the stomach flu. For Mardi Gras. So, yeah, I also had a death wish apparently.”
Another fact nugget. He’s at least forty. And an Aquarius.
“Hey, and sorry. El told me this was supposed to be a solo trip for you. I swear I don’t mean to keep bumping into you like this.”
It sounds genuine but also like he knows exactly what to say to put me at ease. I wave a hand, batting the apology away. “Where’s the crew?”
“None of them wanted to go on a hike after last night.” He winces. “Not the best planning on my part. I left them to nurse the hangovers and I’m going back with the promise that they’ll have breakfast burritos ready for me.”
“Great boss move,” I say as I take a swig from my water bottle.
I can’t tell because of his sunglasses, but I sense his eyes on me and my bare legs beneath my cutoffs.
I am immensely grateful for moisturizing my knees before the hike.
And for my good sports bra and jaunty red socks above my hiking boots, which hopefully hint at an interesting personality.
He climbs up to me incredibly fast. This is a man who has spent his whole life doing athletic things effortlessly. When he reaches me, he assesses the large rock. “I’m guessing you don’t have climbing equipment?”
“Uh, no.”
We share a huffed exchange of laughter. Then he says, “Well, unless you have some superhuman upper-body strength or web shooters, I think you’re going to need me to boost you up.”
I don’t answer right away. Do I want to climb up this thing that badly? Feels extremely awkward to let him help me do this. To have him touch my body?
But he is the one…the man who will soon know everything there is to know about me.
“Let’s do it,” I say, jogging in place and cracking my neck to make light of it.
He puts his backpack down. “Okay. And apologies, I wasn’t able to shower this morning, because…well, yurt.”
“I also live that yurt life. It’s fine,” I say, trying to keep the lightness up. Buoyant, babyyyy.
There’s a brief moment of limbo where we’re not quite sure where to begin but then Daniel gets into a lunge and pats his thigh. “Step on here.”
I do. And once my foot is on there, he grabs ahold of my arm. “Okay, now’s the time to hoist.”
Maybe I wasn’t expecting my fated to be funny, but he is. The delivery is absurd and I start laughing and have to step back down. After I gather myself, I step up again, and once he has me steady, he says, “Right, gonna lift you now, don’t freak out.”
And with that he does this little maneuver of holding me by the waist and lifting me above his head. “Step on my shoulder!”
I do it before I can think too hard about it, feeling his handprints burned into my waist long after I step onto his shoulder. Once I’m up there, it’s a quick scramble to the top of the rock.
“Holy shit!” I cry out between pants. “Thank you!”
From below—“Yeah!” It’s not like I climbed some huge mountainous peak, but it feels pretty breathtaking to be up on this small summit. I can see the entire desert stretched out around me. The twisty Joshua trees the only spots of dark green. The sky an impossibly bright blue.
Before I can relish in the view for too long, Daniel scrambles up right next to me. I’m so stunned I just step back. “What the hell?” I finally sputter, looking down.
He looks guilty. “I do climb…”
“Okay, okay, jock.”
“Also, I’m a bit competitive,” he says. “It’s the most American thing about me.”
I laugh. “Well, thanks for helping me up when you could have stomped over my head in one leap.”
He grins widely. “You’re welcome.” We stand side by side, taking it all in.
He eventually pulls out his phone to take a few photos.
“Sending this to the work group chat so they can all feel inferior.” Again, his deadpan delivery makes me laugh.
Then he holds out his hand. “Fancy a photo of you for posterity?”
“Um, sure.” I fumble for my phone. When I give it to him, our hands brush against each other. I point to the landscape behind me with a grin, going for a goofy over serious portrait, and he takes a few shots before handing the phone back to me.
“Well, thank you for that,” I say as a warm breeze picks up around us. I pull my hat back on to shield myself from the sun.
“You’re welcome. And happy birthday, again.” He smiles then holds my gaze for a bit too long. He looks like he’s about to say something then glances at his watch instead. “I should probably head back soon. We’ve got some trust-building exercises to get to.”
“Like, falling into each other’s arms and stuff?” I tease.
“No. Human centipede.”
“Oh my god.” I let out a hard, shocked laugh. “How do you say that with a straight face, you weirdo?”
He grins. “I was adopted by uptight British people, what can I say?”
That takes me aback. Adopted. Wait. “Your parents let you keep your Korean last name, then?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I actually found out who my birth mother was a few years ago, after my parents passed.” A beat. “Car accident.”
The blood drains from my face. “Both of them?”
He nods. “Yeah. It’s okay. Well, no, it’s not. But that’s what you say. Anyway, had a big soul-searching thing and met my birth mother. Added her surname to mine since we’ve become closer.”
“Oh, wow. That’s incredible. And I’m so sorry about your parents.” I hesitate before I say, “I’ve also lost both my parents. Kind of. My dad left and my mother died when I was a child.”
Daniel’s shoulders slump slightly. “Oh, Christ. I’m so sorry, love.”
The “love” slips out of him so warmly, so full of sincerity, that it doesn’t even catch me off guard. I know British people say it all the time, but the naturalness of it isn’t lost on me. And the instant comfort I feel isn’t lost on me, either. There’s an understanding between us—a shared grief.
I squeeze his arm without thinking. “Thank you.”
“Orphan club—not the best club,” he says ruefully. And then he puts his hand over mine, a beat longer than expected.
“Maybe the worst club,” I say, trying to cover up the intense beating of my heart with a smile. When our hands separate, mine is tingling and I can tell he’s feeling something, too—he clears his throat and runs his hand through the back of his hair.
“Well, death talk. An amazing way for me to end a casual conversation, yeah?” He laughs. “It was great bumping into you here, Cassia. Shall I help you down?”
“Yes, thanks,” I say, trying not to sound breathless like a goddamned damsel.
He clambers down first, sliding his body down, hanging on briefly with his hands, then hopping off.
“Ugh, you make it look so easy.”
Looking up, he smiles. “I’m here, you got this.”
The reassurance sends a zing into my spine. “Easier said than done, bucko.”
“Just sit on the edge and I’ll get you from there.”
I scoot over to the edge, my legs dangling. Then, with no-nonsense swiftness, he grabs hold of my calves, his grip unyielding, and pulls me down so that I slide right into him—my ass resting on his forearms, his face almost pressed into my chest.
“Welp,” I say with a nervous laugh.
He drops me quickly but gently. “Sorry, probably not the most graceful way.” His cheeks are a little red.
“No, thank you, I would have been stuck up there forever otherwise.” I also feel my own cheeks heat up. God, the desert is stupidly hot.
Daniel holds out his water bottle to me, reading my mind.
I take a sip, and when I move to close the cap, he takes it from me and puts his mouth where mine was seconds ago. And he keeps eye contact with me while he does it. My mouth goes dry, and I resist grabbing the bottle back from him.
“Well, enjoy the rest of your day, Cassia,” he says, his voice cheerful, but something about his jaw looks tense. Ellis looms between us.
“Bye, Daniel. Nice seeing you again.” I try not to watch him as he goes—and I can feel a silent willpower coming from his side as well—and he keeps walking with his gaze straight ahead.