Chapter 10 Connor
CONNOR
By the time we leave the restaurant, the group’s energy has shifted.
The air is cooler, the sun a little lower, and the promise of warm baths and wine is pulling everyone back down the trail at a decent pace.
We’re walking in loose formation, half listening to Jack and Banks argue about elevation gains and who’s in better shape.
Some of the women are at the front of the pack, very much in conversation with Elle about some of the wedding details. For a woman who plans no less than fifty parties a year, she’s being vague about the particulars—maybe to make sure that everything is a surprise for her guests.
I stay toward the back, walking beside Manuela, who keeps glancing down like something’s bothering her. Sure enough, a few minutes into the descent, she stops and crouches.
“My shoelace is driving me insane,” she mutters, fingers fumbling with the knot. “I think I double knotted it earlier without realizing, and it’s way too tight.”
“Isn’t that the best way to avoid them coming loose?” I say, leaning against a tree.
She doesn’t even look up. “You’d be surprised.”
The others keep going, their voices fading into the trees. No one seems to notice we’ve stopped. It’s not that far behind, but the trail’s narrow, and the sound of leaves underfoot carries weirdly.
By the time she stands up again, we’re alone.
She glances down the trail, then back up. “Did they turn?”
I squint. The trail splits ahead. “Pretty sure they went left.”
“Okay,” she says and continues down the path, no hesitation. “Let’s go left then. Worst case, we’re five minutes behind and we can find our way to the station.”
The path is quieter, less trampled. It doesn’t look like people have come this way recently, but what do I know? The trees thin out in patches, letting in the last of the warm sun. I was expecting a little bit of heat this early in September, but I guess that mountain air behaves differently.
“Do you hear that?” she says, slowing down to a halt in the middle of the path. There is a faint sound of water coming from our right, covered only slightly by the sound of a few birds chirping in whatever is left of the tree canopies. “I think that’s the waterfall.”
We’re halfway down the slope when she speaks again. “Have you ever noticed how group trips like this one work best when everyone knows their role?”
I glance over, studying her. Her cheeks are flushed again, and she has a faint sheen of sweat covering her face. Not sweaty by any means, but something that makes her glow. “What do you mean?”
“Like, someone’s the planner, someone’s the comic relief, someone’s the one who smooths over drama before it explodes.”
I tug at the strap of my bag. “Jack’s family has always kind of operated that way. Big gestures. Big expectations. Everyone slots into a part, whether they want it or not. That is one of the reasons why I think Elle and my cousin are such a good fit.”
Manuela tilts her head, curious but quiet.
“His dad and mine are brothers,” I offer.
“So technically, I’ve known him my whole life, but it’s always felt…
like their world was a little shinier than mine.
” I huff out a breath, not quite a laugh.
“My family’s more… traditional? Reputation matters a lot, but it’s quieter.
All whispered impressions and carefully curated dinner parties.
Jack’s side wants to dazzle a room. Mine just wants the room to nod in approval and go home thinking we’re the most respectable people in attendance. ”
She doesn’t say anything at first, instead keeps walking beside me, matching my pace. The descent isn’t as steep as when we got in, and my knees are grateful.
“You’d think it’d be easier, you know?” I add, laughing softly to myself. “Coming on the trip without Athena, without anyone. But it’s not.”
“Why’d you come, then?” she asks inquisitively.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Obligation, maybe. Guilt? Jack asked, and I said yes. Figured I’d show up, blend in, do the thing.”
We round a bend in the trail, and the noise hits us first. The sound of water swells around us, filling the space: big, echoing, alive.
Then the trees open, and there it is. The waterfall.
A proper cascade, cutting through the rock like it’s been doing this forever. Mist floats in the air around it, catching the late afternoon light. The whole clearing smells like pine and river and something faintly metallic.
Manuela stops walking. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I say.
We stand there for a second.
“I feel like we were supposed to find this,” she says, almost to herself.
“Me too.”
We sit on a boulder near the edge of the pool at the base.
The sun is slanting hard now, warm and bright and low in the areas where it cuts through the leaves.
I should be thinking about my inbox, about the dozen emails waiting for me back in New York, but for the first time in months, I haven’t checked.
Not once since we landed. And right now, staring at the water, I don’t want to.
The quiet feels like a luxury, a peace that I didn’t realize was missing from my life.
Eventually, Manuela leans back on her hands and sighs. “I really don’t want to get up.”
“We should probably head back soon.”
She nods, but neither of us moves.
When we finally do stand and retrace our steps, the light has changed again. Dimmer and cooler. We follow the hill down to the base, but when we emerge near the train station, it’s empty.
No one is waiting. I pull out my phone, thumb moving with a practiced motion. No service and a blank screen where the bars should be.
Manuela walks ahead, checking the board. Her shoulders drop.
“What does it say?” I call, already knowing what she’s going to reply.
She turns around. “The last train was at five. There’s not even another connection to a different town. Maybe we can catch an alternative method of transportation.”
I check my phone, just to make sure. 5:12 p.m.
We look at each other, and she sighs again, louder this time. “Switzerland and their punctuality, darn it.”
I try not to laugh, but I can’t help but chuckle a little.
“Connor, we missed the train,” she says flatly.
“I noticed.”
“And no one thought to text us?”
“Maybe they assumed we were on the train? Like, a different carriage?”
She runs a hand through the front of her hair and paces in a small circle, then stops and looks up at me. “You think they’ll come back for us?”
I glance at the board again. “Not unless they’re taking a helicopter.”
Her mouth twitches. “You’re telling me we’re stuck?”
“Seems that way.”
She groans but then, surprisingly, laughs. “Okay. Fine. Great. Fuck. Okay. I think we can figure this out, right?”
I smile, letting the weight of it sink in. “Sure.”
“I mean… puta madre, why do these things happen to me?” She groans again and then pulls out her phone. “This is a first world country. They must have, like, an app for a ride share. Right?”
She starts furiously tapping the screen while muttering under her breath. I step beside her, peering at her screen. No signal, just like me. She tilts it to the sky like that might help.
“Anything?” I ask.
“Besides rage? No.”
I laugh. “Looks like we’re walking to the nearest town, then.”
She exhales, then shoves her phone into that tiny backpack she’s been carrying all day. “Okay. Adventure, part two.”
We start down the road, the trail turning into cobblestone as we near the edge of the village. The sun’s dropped lower now, casting everything in a golden light I haven’t seen in months. Quiet and cinematic.
She glances at me, and her mouth twitches again.
At least she’s finding this amusing. If this were Athena, everyone and their mother would have heard her, and we would have probably gotten out of here by now.
One of the locals feeling sorry for me and offering us a ride to another train station, maybe.
“If we end up sleeping on a park bench, I’m blaming you. ”
“We won’t have to sleep in a park, Manu,” I say, and I can’t help my smile. “Let’s just find a store and ask for directions to the nearest train station. I’m sure there’s another service that can take us back.”
Manuela sighs dramatically. “Why do you have to be so logical?” She rolls her eyes, and I catch the grin before she turns her head, and we follow the road to what I hope is a town nearby.