Chapter 10
For the first part of the hike down the mountain, all I can focus on is making sure I don’t stumble on the loose rocks, protruding tree roots, or holes I can’t see until I’m right upon them. This is no stroll down Fifth Avenue, that’s for sure. I’m familiar with trekking, and I prefer going on a walk rather than having my driver take me somewhere—within reason. I’m not fond of rain or sleet, but really, who is? I’m also not a fan of bugs. New York doesn’t have many. We have other pests of a different variety, but I’ve never experienced a swarm of buzzing, incessant insects like I have here on the mountainside.
I don’t want to complain. It’s obvious that while Aubrey and I are both fit and nimble adults, she is much more comfortable being in the great outdoors than I am. Still, I’m not quiet. I’m either slapping my arms, waving my hand through the air to clear the mosquitoes away, or grunting when I feel something piercing my skin.
Aubrey is so outdoorsy she doesn’t seem to mind, or if she does, she’s not letting it show. I, on the other hand, am not outdoorsy, and I curse when a damn mosquito lands on the bridge of my nose and tries to steal my blood.
“For fuck’s sake!” I can’t help it. I’m borderline miserable through this thick part of the woods. I break the silence between us, and it eases the tension that accompanied us down the slope. Aubrey giggles, pulling her shirt from her body to air it out as she waits for me to stop freaking out about the bug. But that’s her mistake. Her laughter turns to screeches when she realizes two mosquitoes flew under her shirt with the movement. As she pats her shirt and resumes walking quickly, I hurry after her. Maybe if we move faster than a walk, we’ll outpace these damn insects?
We rush too quickly, almost crashing into another couple. Now these two are outdoorsy. Decked out in climbing gear—complete with snazzy hiking sticks—hats, boots, and what seems like a retro yet forward-thinking backpack gear, they widen their eyes.
“Are those bloodsuckers getting to you?” the gray-haired man asks.
“Yes!” Aubrey and I reply in unison.
His partner, an equally gray-haired woman, squints at Aubrey. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
She gawks in shock, and I furrow my brow.
“They’ll be worse if you are,” she advises sagely like she didn’t just pop an extremely rude and offensive question out of the blue. “Here.” In her hand is a spray can. I don’t care what’s in it. The logo of a silhouetted mosquito with a big X through it tells me I want it.
Aubrey and I both coat ourselves with the spray. It has a chemical tinge to it, but the minty smell of it is almost overpowering. We thank them and carry on as they climb uphill, and after several minutes, Aubrey and I have reverted to the silent journey, blessedly sans mosquitoes now.
I’m going to buy that stuff in bulk.
It’s a miracle, and I can finally settle into this enjoyable yet different form of exercise. Marian doesn’t have a gym at the bed-and-breakfast, and without a chance to use my muscles in a hardcore way, I appreciate this hike to really stretch and move. Even if I’m borderline panting. Caleb warned me about how thin the air is here, and with all this movement, it really is making me move slower.
The only thing that would improve this is if I could figure out a way to talk to Aubrey. I’ve never been shy about speaking my mind, but after the nurturing way she didn’t take my crap this morning, I’m not sure how to approach her. Which is a scary thought. I care about how I handle her because I want to please her, not piss her off even more. Seeking her approval and wanting her happiness feels too much like a commitment, and I’m not there yet. What if we do hit it off and she breaks away? I’m not healed enough to handle another hit like that.
As we round a curving portion of the trail, she trips. I’m shocked I don’t as well. The gravel is loose here, and with the degree of the incline, it’s like skidding down the mountain instead of walking. I catch her just in time, preventing her from pitching forward and falling flat on her face. Pressed together, I hold her until she catches her breath. This close against her, I smell the funky bug spray but something more. Her. I draw in her warmth, her softness, and wonder when the last time was that someone hugged her.
And why the hell do I care? I’m doing a shitty job of keeping my guard up.
She glances up at me, stunning me with those clear, dark blue eyes. Something heavy and silent passes between us, and I recognize it as her stubbornness to cling to her distance. She’s grateful, but annoyed that I helped her.
Whatever. Maybe it’s a waste of my time to try to smooth things out with her. She’s got something up her ass and perhaps it’s not me. I’m just conveniently around for her to be mean to.
Once we’re on our feet and moving again, she suddenly faces me and blurts out, “Why are you such an asshole?”
I open and close my mouth. So…I’m an asshole to catch you from falling? I hold that retort in and blink. “I—uh, no one has ever said that to my face before.”
She snorts. “First time for everything.”
Here it is. This is my moment to explain and come clean with an apology. “I’m sorry if I was mean to you.” Like being a dumbass and saying you were bitchy, maybe. “I guess I’m not used to people like you.”
She halts, turning to narrow her eyes at me. “People like me?”
I feel like I walked into that one. It sounds like I’m about to label her or commit the crime of mentioning some kind of derogatory ism. But that’s not it. Put on the spot to speak with her, I’m punched with the fact of why she’s so…antagonistic. It’s because I’ve never dealt with someone like her.
“A normal person.”
She rolls her eyes. “Normal. Right. What even is normal anymore?”
“A normal person who doesn’t have anything to gain from me.” That’s the crux of it. Aubrey isn’t a stranger, nor is she a friend. Likewise, she doesn’t fit into my life as someone wanting my money or time. She’s just there, too far from my reach, and I want her closer somehow for reasons I don’t want to admit.
She tosses me a careful look but shrugs before resuming the hike. Slowing down a bit, she lets me walk next to her rather than single file.
“Unfortunately, I’m used to people like you though.”
I arch my brows. “How so? Because you’re friends with Lauren and she’s loaded?”
She shakes her head. “No. Lauren has never been rich, not herself. Unless Caleb’s lawyers can get her trust fund, Lauren’s never had money of her own. It’s all her parents’ wealth.”
“You know what I mean.” Caleb was right. Aubrey doesn’t come from the same background as Lauren, and I get a stronger sense that maybe she’s jaded, hating on or judging anyone who’s wealthy because she’s not.
“I do. Yes, Lauren is loaded, or her family is, but that’s not what I mean. I respect that we have different views on the world from our upbringing, but she’s not a rich person at heart. She’s a good friend to the core despite the topic of money. I’m referring to the wealthy families I’ve met through the elementary school. Children I used to teach.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” She groans. “All those entitled brats. So rich and wealthy. Not all of them. I’m not saying all of them were like that, but many were, and it’s left a bad taste in my mouth.”
“Were they harder to handle at school?”
“Very hard. I wasn’t allowed to discipline anyone for fear of constricting ‘creativity.’ I was pulled in different directions by micromanaging parents who wanted to dictate the curriculum. I was held hostage to appeasing the families who donated a ton of money, and then I was reprimanded for spending too much time with children from scholarship families.”
“That does sound difficult.”
“I was stifled. I was always the bad guy. And I hated the feeling that I couldn’t put my foot down at all, knowing the passive position I had to take was only brewing another generation of kids who won’t know the meaning of hard work or responsibility.”
“No wonder you won’t miss it.”
“But I do. I already do. Like I said, not all of them were bad. It’s just that the bad ones stood out so much. Eighty percent of the children were wonderful. It’s the few rotten apples that skew the whole thing.”
“Then why aren’t you going back?” I ask directly. I know she lied at dinner. Lauren won’t push, but since I’m not a close friend, I see no reason not to. “Why did you leave your job instead of continuing your contract?”
We come upon an overlook that offers a view of water streaming down the slope. She pauses, resting her hands on the railing as she scans the vista. I keep my stare on her, though, determined to get an answer.
She slowly faces me. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”
I shrug. “Why?”
“Jeremy got me fired.”
Narrowing my eyes, I school myself from showing the anger that strikes me hard and fast. “Jeremy?”
She grimaces. “I hate that name.”
“Jeremy? As in Lauren’s ex?”
She nods. “He was a former student there, and he’s kept up with the connections. He didn’t have money to pay off or bribe anyone, but he made up a bullshit story about something I did. I think stealing from the classroom fund. I don’t know. I wasn’t allowed to have the details. But he sowed the seed for some kind of scandal and I was ‘let go.’”
I manage a faint hold on my fury. It’s got to stay bottled up inside until I can really let loose on how pissed off I am. She’s opening up and sharing the truth, though. If I blow a gasket, she’ll shut up again.
“He messed things up for me as a way to get revenge on me for helping Lauren to get out of marrying him. Not once, but twice.”
I lower my head. Fisting my hands, I try to breathe through the rage that fills me. That asshole! The damn asshole who just doesn’t know when to stop!
She touches my forearm briefly, and I exhale a long, hard breath through my nose to face her. Maybe I’m not hiding my anger that well. She winces. “Please don’t say anything. You cannot tell Caleb or Lauren. They’re happy, and they deserve that after all they went through. I don’t want to ruin their bliss.”
Yet? Because she will tell them one day, right? No matter how mad I am, I respect that this is her news to tell, not mine. “What are you going to do now?”
She swats at a bug and tips her head to urge me to continue hiking. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
My heart hurts at the hopelessness and defeat in her tone. I feel the same way. After my breakup with Johanna, I wasn’t sure what to do, what to think, and where to go from there.
“I understand how you feel,” I confide.
She glances up at me. “You do?”
I nod. I’m not surprised she might be curious to know why, but I’m not ready to tell her about Johanna’s impact on me.
We leave the terse topic at that, and eventually, we make it back to the chalet. I mull over all that Aubrey shared, and I envision many scenarios of what could happen. If I went after this asshole. If I avenged her loss of a job. If she stood up for herself and tried to get her position back. If Lauren and Caleb would suffer from this news or just take care of it.
I’m glad when we find Lauren and Caleb at the chalet. Seeing them is a clear indication that Aubrey and I no longer have privacy to speak about things she wants to keep hidden. Until I know how to react further to what she told me, I fall back into my usual mode of lurking and listening, instead of initiating conversations and calling the shots about what we should do.
“Well, don’t you look cozy,” Aubrey teases with an exaggerated once-over of Lauren. The blonde grins, happy and without a hint of being in pain as Caleb opens a bottle of wine.
They totally ducked out to screw all afternoon.
“You’re just in time for a drink,” Lauren replies, winking.
Aubrey rolls her eyes then leans close to stage-whisper to me. “This was a setup.”
I almost smile as I say, “Obviously,” and nudge her to enter the room.