Chapter 3 Delylah #2
I sighed, taking a seat on the end of my bed. “I appreciate that you’re worried, but I’m fine. Really.”
“No, you’re not. You’re living in our crappy old apartment by yourself. All you do is work, which I could understand if you loved your job, but you’re miserable. You don’t even have other friends.”
I did have other friends. They just didn’t run in the same circle as Emily, therefore, to her, they didn’t count.
But she wasn’t wrong about my job. I worked long hours, my boss was a complete and total asshole, and the idea of forensic photography was a lot more appealing than the reality.
In the beginning, it had been a thrill. But there were only so many crime scenes a person could study without getting desensitized. At least for me. My faith in humanity was wavering. It was time to make a change before I resented my camera.
“I don’t need a boyfriend, Em.” What I needed was to come home to Montana.
“One date,” she pleaded. “Go on one date just to get back out there after Peter. If not with Jake, then someone else. What about Harry? Or Steven?”
“No, thanks.” They were both versions of Jake but with brown hair.
“Richard? Samuel?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
She huffed. “It feels like you’re saying no just to prove a point.”
“I’m saying no because I don’t want to date Harry or Steven or Richard or Samuel or Jake. I don’t want to date anyone in the city.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m leaving,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
Emily’s eyes blew wide. “W-what?”
Shit. Well, it was too late to take it back now. Besides, this conversation was inevitable. And if it meant she’d stop shoving Luca’s friends at me, maybe we’d both have a better time at her wedding.
“After the exhibition is over, I’m moving home.”
She stared at me, her expression morphing from shock to betrayal. “How long have you been planning this?”
I shrugged. “A little while. After Peter, I started to think about what I really want for my life. I love the city, but it’s time for a change. I miss home.”
My exhibition this fall would be my farewell to the city.
I was planning to fill the gallery with my favorite photographs from the eight years I’d spent in New York.
Some, I’d sold before at the gallery. But most were shots I’d been collecting and saving for the past year.
Photos I’d taken around different neighborhoods.
Pictures to remind me that there was still good in this world.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The corners of Emily’s mouth turned down. “Are you serious?”
“You know I never planned to stay there forever.”
“I thought you changed your mind. I can’t believe you’re leaving me.”
“Emily.” I stood and closed the gap between us. “You’ll always be my best friend, no matter where I live.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I think I’m mad at you.”
“You think?”
She exhaled, her shoulders slumping. “Everything is changing.”
“Changing for the good. Tomorrow, you’ll be married.”
“Yeah.” A smile toyed at her lips. “Finally. As long as everything goes as planned. Then Luca’s grandma can stop telling us we’re living in sin.”
I laughed, pulling her into a hug. “It’s going to be perfect. You’ll see.”
“I hope so.” She squeezed tight, then let me go. “Just to be sure, it’s a no on Jake.”
“It’s a hell no.”
“I get it.” She sighed. “He is kind of obnoxious. How many times do you have to tell him to stop calling you Del?”
“Thank you.” I went to the bed, picking up my camera from beside my backpack. “Want to go for a hike? I want to get some pictures while we’re here.”
“No, you go ahead.” She let me go, hooking a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to attempt to explain the meaning of disconnect to Luca.”
“Good luck.”
“I need more champagne.” She drained the rest of her glass, then swept out of the tent.
The resort had premade hiking packs for their guests, complete with sunscreen, insect repellent, bear spray, and water. I snagged mine from the corner, pulled the straps over my shoulders, and then, with my camera around my neck, peeked outside the tent’s flaps.
Jake’s bottle of bourbon was on a table beside the couch, but he was nowhere in sight, so I made a break for it, hurrying toward the trodden path that led away from the campsite.
An hour vanished in what felt like a heartbeat as I hiked to the crest of a hill and took in the view. The scents of pine and earth filled my nose. Pebbles crunched beneath my shoes.
In the distance, rocky peaks gave way to evergreen forests, then sweeping plains. The sky was dotted with billowing white clouds as far as the eye could see. And at the base of this mountain, the Haven River Ranch sat proudly in a sprawling meadow.
I took the lens cap off the camera and lifted it to my face. It was too bright for a great photo, and pictures never did this landscape justice, but I snapped a few anyway.
For years, my favorite pastime was wandering the streets of New York City with my camera, photographing anything that caught my eye. Yet as enchanting as the city could be, it couldn’t compete with the magic of Montana.
I tipped my face to the sky, breathing in the air.
Then I kept going on the trail, in no rush, pausing whenever I found something to photograph.
When my stomach started to growl, I turned back, retreating to the campsite, where Jake lounged on a couch, an arm draped over his eyes.
His phone was beside him, blaring death metal.
“Hey,” I said, having to shout over the music.
He sat up straight, rubbing both hands over his face. “You’re back.”
“Yeah. Where are Emily and Luca?” Their tent was open but empty.
“They left.”
“Um, what?”
He lifted a shoulder. “You missed a big fight. Neither of them wanted to stay, so Matt drove them back.”
“Mark. His name is Mark.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Is he coming back to get us?”
“I didn’t ask. I don’t do drama, so when Emily and Luca started fighting, I crashed in my tent.” He lifted his bottle. “Wanna drink?”
“No, thanks.”
Jake stood, swaying slightly as he walked over with a grin, breaking the invisible barrier of my personal bubble.
I held up a hand and took a step back. “What are you doing?”
“We should party, babe.”
“Don’t call me babe. And no. I think I’ll save my partying for the wedding.”
“Ah.” He nodded, his gaze raking up and down my body. “So tomorrow. Got it. I can wait.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Does this super aggressive behavior actually work on other women?”
He stared at me, face blank, like he needed a minute to actually comprehend the question. “Emily said you were into me. That’s the whole reason I came up here.”
I wanted so badly to tell him he was wrong about Emily, but she probably had told him I was interested. “Let’s just call this camping trip over, okay?”
“Good idea.” He held up his arms, backing away. “I’m out.”
With one hand, he snatched the bottle from the couch. Then he weaved past the tents and started down the two-track road.
If this drunk idiot wanted to walk all the way down the mountain to the lodge, fine. I’d just wait until Mark came back with the SUV.
I rummaged through the coolers for a sandwich, chasing it down with a Diet Coke. Then I sat in a chair, reviewing the pictures I’d taken earlier, waiting to hear the noise of a vehicle.
Except the only sound came from the forest as a breeze rustled the nearby tree branches. And as the wind swept clouds over the sun, the light changed entirely. Every color intensified, from green to blue to gray and gold.
I was out of my seat in a blink, taking off the lens cap to my camera as I set out on the same hiking trail as before.
The rumble of thunder echoed from above as I hurried toward the peak where I’d stopped earlier. Excitement surged when I reached the top, my fingers almost trembling as I held up the camera.
I snapped photos in a flurry, not wanting to miss the moment. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. And the click of my shutter raced as fast as my heart until the first raindrop hit my head.
“Damn.” I looked to the gray overhead, to the clouds that were about to burst.
Mark was probably back at the camp, cursing my name for disappearing.
I didn’t want anyone to worry, but every shift of the light changed the landscape. This was a moment photographers chased with abandon. I couldn’t walk away, not yet.
An idea sparked, a vision of a gallery wall with photos of these mountains evolving along with the storm. The contrast between my shots from New York and those from Montana would mark the change in my life. Past to present to future.
So I stayed rooted to my spot, furiously taking photos until the downpour came, drenching me head to toe.
It was only fear that my camera would get too wet that drove me away, hurrying down the narrow trail. Except before I could reach the shelter of the trees, my foot landed on a smooth rock, and the entire world turned on its head.
With a yelp, I went flying, landing hard on my side and slipping down the rest of the incline of rocks. Pain exploded through my ankle and leg. My cry was swallowed up by a crack of thunder, until I finally came to a stop, sprawled on the ground, a piece of shale digging into my spine.
“Ouch,” I whimpered, pushing myself up on my elbow.
I probably could have broken my fall, but I’d been too worried about saving my camera.
With a hiss, I rolled to the side, blinking through tears and raindrops to see a huge scrape on my bare thigh. It was raw but not gushing. Nothing that would keep me from walking.
So I pushed to my feet, about to take a step, when my ankle buckled, and I crashed forward on my knees.
The scrape I could manage. But a sprained ankle?
“Damn it,” I hissed. “Stupid, Delylah.”
I should have known better. I should have left sooner. The only person to blame was myself.
Unless . . .
How could I blame this on Jake?