Chapter 9 #2
Where I saw a family and a future, she saw a dead end. A man with no education and lacking the skills to provide in the ways she needed.
Now jealousy is a bitter thing that bites at the worst times. I hate when it happens, but worst of all, I hate how it rips open every wound I’ve tried to seal over, allowing the consuming thoughts of inadequacy to return.
We start the hike at a brisk pace, passing a different group that’s admiring the view, snapping photos of the mountainous landscape.
Lush, vibrant plant life surrounds us, moss covering rocks and trees, creeping to the edge of the path.
Large ferns bloom from the earth, and wide old tree trunks stretch toward the sky.
The air is fresh, and my breathing grows labored as we hike up a set of stairs formed from the earth.
Mark affectionately pats a tree trunk, mottled grays and greens with brown swirls, like a bug ate a path through it. It stretches upward, branches jutting out to display small, slender leaves.
“This beauty here is the scribbly gum tree, a type of eucalyptus,” he says, stepping aside so Doug can find a few good angles to record long footage. “The squiggles are from the larvae of the scribbly gum moth. You can track its path and growth based on the width of the tunneling.”
Sofía checks it out, trailing a finger along the grooves in the bark.
I lean down, my mouth by her ear. “How cool is that?”
Instead of a response to my simple question, I’m greeted with a yelp, followed by a flailing fist into my stomach.
Agony rips through my abdomen, and I double over, clutching my side while I try to catch a full breath.
Ugh, that hurt. Why do women always punch me in the gut?
First Charlie, and now Sofía. It’s my most tender spot.
If they have to hit me—even if I’m not sure what provokes it—I would prefer a bicep. Stings a little less.
A hand lands on the center of my back. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”
“I-I’m fine,” I groan.
“I am so sorry. You frightened me. I didn’t expect you to be so close.”
Her hand makes a large arc on my back, over and over in a soothing circle. If she keeps doing that, she can punch me whenever she likes. I might pretend to suffer an extra thirty seconds to revel in the rare, simple touch before I straighten and offer her a wobbly smile.
She’s a bit flustered, if the wide pupils are any indication.
“I’m sorry.”
“No dramas,” I say, stepping into stride with her as we restart our trek. “You can punch me anytime.”
Molly huffs a laugh, but I ignore her. Doug pauses periodically to film, and I follow suit, taking B-roll on my phone for bloopers, teasers on social media, and short-clip content.
I’m zooming in on the structure of a leaf when Molly whispers, “You can punch me anytime. Look at you flirting.” She hits my arm, and the camera jostles. “Good job!”
Ignoring her, I spin to find Sofía crouched down, her phone aimed at the ground.
“I am walking your way,” I call out. I would rather not be punched again today. “What did you find?”
“It’s a mushroom,” she murmurs, adjusting her phone to display the cluster of tiny blood-red caps jutting from the soil. “But if we’re being honest, I only found it because I was trying to catch my breath. This hike is a lot harder than it looked online.”
A sharp laugh rips out of me. “Regretting your choices, huh?”
“I’m running on fumes of sheer spite over him calling me ‘little lady,’ and I won’t let him win.”
With a tiny groan and a ragged breath, she pops up from the ground. She shuffles, and I hide my reaction as she accidentally decimates the mushrooms she admired. Oh, shit, she can’t know.
“Should we, um, do that PR thing?” I ask her, stumbling over the words while sending silent condolences to the fungi.
Rest in peace, little guy.
“Come here,” she demands. Her fingers intertwine with mine, and she scoots close. “Now take one step forward.”
The physical contact is enough to fire up my neurons, my heartbeat picking up speed as her body presses against mine.
With her other hand, she snaps a photo of us. She releases me but lingers close, nibbling on her lower lip while she taps on the screen before she flips it. It’s nothing more than my hiking boots, the vegetation, and our hands, but it’s suggestive.
She darkens the photo and adds a layer of texture, then uploads it. “That should do it.”
Hmm.
That was easier than expected.
“What if we let them finish the hike while we hang out in the car?” she asks when she spots the sharp incline on the path. “It has air-conditioning.”
“Tempting, but no.” I connect our arms, dragging her back to Molly and Doug. “You can do anything you set your mind to,” I say. “Even complete this hike.”
She peers up at me, searching. “You think that?”
Her footsteps stumble, but I hold her steady.
“No, Sofía. I don’t think you can accomplish anything you dream, I know you can. There’s a difference.”
“Never let her pick a hike again,” Molly groans, climbing back into the SUV after five hours of hiking, filming, crossing creeks, and one small stumble when Molly hit a patch of slick moss and landed flat on her ass.
“You love me,” Sofía replies. “I am the wind beneath your wings.”
“More like the thorn stuck in my ass.”
Sofía cackles. “Oh, please. You’re annoyed Doug laughed when you fell.”
“Well, yeah. You almost slipped, and Jett caught you. My husband screamed ‘I’ve got bad knees and a thousand-dollar camera’ and let me tumble.”
Doug drags her into his side, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. She melts like ice cream on a scorching day, and Sofía quirks her brow at me. I like it far too much when we’re on the inside of a joke together.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Doug whispers. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
The words are dripping with suggestion, and Sofía fakes a dry heave. Mark leaps into the front seat.
“We’ve got a bit of a drive to the hike where we could spot a wombat. They’re nocturnal guys, so the best time to spot them is when the sun is setting,” he says. “How are you guys going? Enjoy the first hike?”
“It was great,” Sofía cheers. “The plant life was incredible.”
“Liar,” I whisper, sliding closer to her. “You were planning his demise.”
“They would never catch me, either,” she replies. “I’ve listened to a lot of true crime podcasts.”