Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
HUX
Driving over to Mr. Croft’s house, I can’t remember the last time I took anyone on an actual date.
Any of my college dates mostly consisted of walking to the campus dining hall or maybe a coffee shop if we were feeling adventurous.
Then whatever party was happening, and finally, ending the night in one of our beds.
To be honest, all my time at NYU, I had little interest in women. I was so focused on finally being out of small-town Maine and making sure I made something bigger of myself so I would never have to go back. Women were more of an afterthought, plus I was broke as hell.
The last real date I went on must have been with my high school girlfriend, Sarah. I smile, thinking about those times. Fifteen, trying to act like you’re an adult and overdressed for a casual restaurant. Oh, and your older brother had to drive you there.
I pull into the crushed stone drive of Mr. Croft’s house, and suddenly, I’m jittery. I’ve seen Everly almost every day this whole summer, but this feels different. I’m fearful this is what hope feels like. Hope feels dangerous; I already know how this has to end.
Stuffing those thoughts down deep, my truck door creaks as I open it and step out into the August breeze.
I run my hand through my hair and walk toward the house when the front door opens.
Everly stands in the doorway in a white summer dress, her skin bronze from days on the lake, and her loosely braided hair hangs over her left shoulder.
I spot a few dainty yellow wildflowers woven into the braid, Alex’s touch, I’m sure.
I swallow hard. “Hi.”
“You showed.” A playful smirk painted on her lips.
“Couldn’t stand up a beautiful girl like you? Never.” I smile, holding out my arm for her to take, disguising my jittery fingers.
Everly’s cheeks immediately flush. After everything we’ve been through this summer, the idea that we are bashful with one another seems foolish. Yet right now, all we are is two people standing on a porch with hearts on our sleeves, and it’s downright daunting.
I shake away the haze and look down at her sandals. Finding my snarky attitude once again, I say, “Yeah, so you’re going to want to switch those out for hiking boots.” I laugh.
She looks down and wiggles her painted toes before throwing her head back. “Ugh, not again.”
“This is northern Maine; I don’t know what you were expecting, princess. There are no five-star hot spots here. Go grab your boots and meet me in the truck.” I smirk as she very cutely stomps back into the house to change.
After fifteen miles on a bumpy logging road, a quick stop to munch some wild blueberries, and me pretending to see a bear, causing Everly to scream so loudly I thought a warden might come looking for us, we arrive atop the secluded mountain.
When she sees the fire tower at the summit, her eyes grow wide, and I know I’ve picked a good first date location.
“I think you owe me a thank you.”
Taking her eyes off the ten flights of metal grate stairs, she looks at me suspiciously. “For what?”
“Well, I must say I’ve been an excellent tour guide this summer, don’t you think?
Got you up not one, but two mountains, and explored lots of territory…
” My eyes roam down her body. “Think about all the experiences I’ve given you.
” My cockiness successfully breaks the unnatural and awkward politeness that has occupied our airspace since I picked her up.
She shakes her head, causing the braid to swing back and forth. A few strands of her hair have come loose, slick with sweat; they frame her flushed face. The hike is short but rather steep.
“You ready?” I start toward the stairs.
“Wait, what? We aren’t going up there!” Fear plasters her face as she gazes up at the old tower again.
“Um, of course we are. The view from the top is incredible, and I packed us with another one of my famous picnics.” I overdramatically bulge my eyes at her.
I watch as she takes in the rusty metal structure.
The wonder she expressed when we first arrived has now turned to horror.
The tower was used by the Maine Forest Service to spot fires until the late 1960’s.
We passed the small, abandoned warden’s cabin a few hundred yards back on our way up, where the warden would sleep between multiple journeys up the tower.
Back when I was a kid, the inactive tower was repaired, with the rusty old vertical ladder replaced with open grate stairs and a fenced-in platform built at the top, half of it enclosed similar to the structure that used to be there, the other half entirely open to the elements.
Though completely safe, the metal-grate semi-open stairs are still nerve-racking for the average person who hasn’t been chasing friends up them for most of their life.
“I have been scared of heights my whole life, so there is no way you’re getting me up that suicide tower.”
I wince at the word, reminding me that I didn’t just bring her here for dinner and stargazing. It’s time I talk about Storm and Julia. She deserves to know.
“Do you trust me?”
“Ugh, really, we are going to do this?” She chews on her bottom lip, studying the tower again. Finally, letting out a big sigh, she meets my gaze and nods.
“Here, we will go up exactly how my dad got me up the first time. You go first, and I will stay closely behind you. Keep your eyes forward and try not to look down or up. One stair at a time.”
Slow but steady, we start up the tower. Sliding her hands up the handrails first, then a step up, deep breath, repeat. By the time we get to the tree line, her knuckles are white, and she’s shaking like a leaf.
I lower my mouth to her ear. “It’s okay. Close your eyes, lean back into me, and breathe.” She complies, and I can feel her heart pounding as she presses her back into my chest.
We stay like this for a long time, letting the mountain air soak into our lungs and listening to the slight sway of the trees, the birds overhead, and the low droning engine of a floatplane in the distance.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“You can do this, we are almost there.” I lightly kiss the side of her head, the scent of her hair sending a wave of electricity through my body as it stimulates my most powerful memories .
Her boots finally reach the wooden platform, and I hear her gasp.
She turns slowly and takes in the massive three-hundred-degree view laid out before us.
I’ve always loved watching people experience this spectacle for the first time.
There is nothing like it; no picture can fully capture it, and no words can fully describe it.
“Woah,” she whispers, more to herself than to me as I lay out the blanket, bottle of wine, and the dinner I packed. Feeling extra cheesy, I brought some battery-operated tea lights and a small lantern.
The sun has sunk low in the early evening sky, and I am hopeful for one of Silsby’s killer sunsets. There isn’t a cloud above, so my plan for some extraordinary stargazing is still in effect.
“Are you hungry?”
She turns to look at my layout, her eyes still bright and wide from taking in the scenery. “Look at this spread, I’m impressed. Who is responsible for this?”
“Well, because I would never lie to you, Stephen put together the chicken avocado salad in the homemade croissants, my mom gave me the bottle of pinot grigio, there is strawberry shortcake made by the one and only Rhonda, and the battery candles were all my doing.”
“The candles are my favorite part.” She smiles at me, and despite the expansive landscape around us, I swear there is no better sight in the world.
We settle onto the red and black plaid blanket I’ve packed.
The afternoon sun hangs low, hovering just above the jagged mountain ridgelines in the distance.
It’s funny to me how different Everly has become in such a short amount of time.
The adjustment from city to woods can be quite unnerving for a lot of people.
The quiet can make them extremely uncomfortable, to the point that we keep a couple of sound machines behind the front desk just in case guests can’t handle the silence.
Everly takes a bite of her sandwich, letting out a satisfied groan. “Wow, this is delicious.” She demurely covers her mouth mid-chew.
“We lucked out getting Stephen as the new chef. His food is excellent, and it helps guests overlook the parts of the resort that are, well, far from excellent.”
“Seems the projects are never-ending for you, huh?”
I can tell by the way she asks that she’s trying to open up a conversation about the business, and for once, I am thankful for the nudge. This talk needs to happen, and even though talking about the past still makes my stomach flip, I know she deserves some answers.
“It’s always been that way, something that just comes with a family business, I guess, but without Storm, the work has landed on my dad and me, and to be honest, it can be suffocating most of the time.”
Everly keeps her eyes on mine, and her lips part as if she wants to add a comment but thinks better of it. I let out a heavy sigh.
“I know I owe you an explanation, and I’m sure you’re wondering why I haven’t shared what happened to my brother.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Hux. I just wish I could understand better what you’re going through. I’m no stranger to loss, and I know what kind of havoc it can cause.” Her smile is sad, and I sense, for a moment, that her thoughts have drifted to her mom.
“I know I have told you I went to college in New York. About two years ago, the summer before my senior year, I was back here at home. I had to sublet my apartment because Storm and my dad were on my ass about needing help here. I swore it would be the last summer I would ever work at Anderson’s. ”
I pause to look out at the tree tops below us, the sun still hitting some, while others already in the shade create a quilted effect.