But he doesn’t believe me and wraps both arms around me, his tall, solid body completely engulfing me in a protective cove. And I don’t know if it’s the mushrooms or what, but I feel utterly at peace here. In Joshua Tree, but specifically with Ellis. He speaks into my hair. “I really hate that this happens to anyone, but I really hate that it happened to you.”
Something in me cracks wide open, and I squeeze him harder.“You know what the worst part is, though?” I say, ironic laughter spilling out from me. “I never think about my dad. But when I think about how my mom died, I do. I wonder if…if he had stuck around, if she wouldn’t have died.”
Ellis looks concerned and confused. “What do you mean? Wasn’t it an aneurysm? You can’t control that.”
I wave my hand. “It’s like, on a rational level I know that. But…aneurysms can also be caused by stress.” My voice gets quiet, so quiet Ellis has to lean in to hear me. “Maybe, if she wasn’t a single mom juggling a very emotional eight-year-old daughter, she wouldn’t have—”
“Hey.” Ellis tilts my chin up so I have to look at him. “The aneurysm had absolutely nothing to do with you.”
I must not look like I believe that because he says it again, “It had nothing to do with you.”
I nod and my eyes, horrifyingly, fill up with tears. “I don’t want to end up like my mom. I need to start a family with the right person. The one.”
Some big emotion comes over him, his features trying not to show whatever he’s feeling. He presses his lips to my forehead and says, “You deserve that, Cass. You really do.”
We stand like that for a few seconds. When enough time has passed, I feel sufficiently composed to say, “So, hey, this is where we unload our traumas. Tell me yours.”
He’s quiet. Too quiet. I swivel my head to him. “Did you have a perfect childhood?”
A rumble of laughter goes through him and because we’re still pressed together, I feel it through my body. “I mean…”
“Wow, I hate you.” I lean back and push him away, jokingly.
He starts heaving with laughter and I throw my arms around his waist, trying to tackle him to the ground. All six-feet-two of him.It’s impossible but he trips over something, and we both end up on the ground, rolling in silty desert grit. And I don’t mind. It’s not even the shrooms, it’s him. Something about Ellis makes me feel like saying “Fuck it” to caring about sand in my hair, to caring about being high. He continues to unlock different layers of me, somehow.
We’re both laughing hysterically, our hair and faces getting caked in sand, when he rolls me on my back, ending up on top, arms braced on either side of me.
Uh-oh. My laughter dies in my throat as we lock eyes and I feel the pressure of his hips against mine. And then, he says in a choked voice, “I’ve been married before.”
“What?” I breathe out, the words not computing with the sensory overload of my body.
Not moving an inch, his eyes still on mine, he says, “I married my high school girlfriend after graduation. Then we got divorced before I turned twenty-two.”
“Wow.” I look at him with renewed interest. “What happened?”
“We were…twenty-two?” he says with a huff of laughter. It moves his body in a way that is seriously a problem for me. “It was mutual and we’re still friends, but she moved out of the country. Probably for the best.”
His eyes, normally light and multifaceted, are so dark in the darkness of the desert. I reach up and touch his cheek. “Why did you want to get married that young?”
Balancing impressively on one arm, he holds my hand, pressing a kiss into my palm. “Because we were in love, silly.” I think about our conversation at dinner, and how defensive he got about romance and the future. Something is clicking into place. The sweetness of it all crashes over me and I bring him down so that our mouths can meet, letting the magic of the moment take over all logic and faith.
14
Joshua Tree National Park is unique from any national park I’ve ever been to. In place of towering trees are immense boulders in all shapes and sizes. I feel like I’m in an alien landscape, a tiny ant trundling through, attempting to scramble up the sides of these monstrosities.
It’s eight a.m. and I’m feeling incredible despite the fact that I spent way too much time with Ellis last night. With mushrooms you get the best of a buzz without any of its lingering headaches, unless you continue to flirt with the twenty-eight-year-old when your fated isright there.
And especially when you unburden your deepest traumas to him. So, despite feeling great physically, I have a bit of an emotional hangover. Every few feet, I wince at the memory of the intimacy that I allowed on my indulgent mushroom trip.
I skirt past a family taking photos in front of a cluster of rocks the color of a sunset and think about how, if I’m being completely honest with myself, last night it moved a lot past a fling. And all along, I’ve sensed how all-in Ellis is in his approach with me. And if he sensed any currents between me and Daniel, he didn’t show it.
There’s a particularly large rock formation in front of me and I approach it with absolutely no plan. I just want to reach the top. To make my body struggle so my brain stops spiraling.
I start on the lower rocks—peach-colored and slightly bleached out by the sun. My hiking boots get an easy grip on those. Once I reach the tallest rock, though, a rust-red obelisk, I lose purchase. My hands can’t find anything to hold on to, my feet the same.
“Shit,” I mutter as I slide down and stare up at it, pushing my wide-brim straw hat back so it hangs from my neck.
“Need some help?”
