“I would’ve double checked what you liked, but I realized I didn’t have your number,” he says, unwrapping a classic peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “But I remembered your peanut butter and jelly sandwich comment.”
“You’re right. I love ’em.” My mouth waters along with my eyes.
This is a real time example of how I can cry over anything. Hearing how Holland thought about what I’d like and taking that time to prepare it, makes me feel good. He remembered an off-hand comment. I blink away the tears.
Eating means less talking and I’m thankful for the break. My brain tries to make sense of my strong reaction to a slightly squashed peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Is it really this rare for someone to think of me? To be considerate of what I’d like? This is something to unpack with my therapist at our next appointment.
We sit and eat our sandwiches, taking turns grabbing handfuls of trail mix. Before I know it, I hear Slate snoring. I look down and see him curled up next to Holland’s leg.
“He won’t be doing much more walking,” Holland jokes.
“How much longer is the hike?”
“Are you ready to be done?” he asks sincerely. He’s not teasing.
“No, no. I’m good. Just the whole thinking ahead thing.” I reassure him. Iamfeeling good. Not that I want to hike for another eight hours but I stillhave some energy.
“Here’s the cool thing. You can pick how long we stay out.” He watches me, waiting for a reaction. “The shortest option is ninety minutes. The longest is probably three hours.” He pauses, packing up our bag. I’m fixating on the cupid’s bow of his lips. “What do you think?”
I’m thinking I don’t want to rush back, even as the fatigue starts pressing on my muscles.
“Not the shortest option,” I say, trying to be confident.
He smiles and nods his head in agreement.
I look at the patient man in front of me. He planned all of this—took me shopping so it was even a possibility, and he packed us food which he’s now cleaning up. Jack sucked for a lot of reasons, but not sure he has even one of these qualities or abilities. The worst part is I didn’t realize this was something I was missing.
“Hey, I don’t want to be weird, but would you mind taking a picture of me?” I hand my phone to him.
After taking my picture, he surprises me again.
“What about the two of us? I want it documented that you went on your first hike and I was there to witness it.” He moves next to me, already putting the camera out for a selfie. He seems unsure, and a little awkward, like he never does this.
I lean in and he meets me halfway. Our shoulders bump, the smallest of touches, which immediately jolts nervousness into my bones. I’m thinking about his arms. Holland reaches out with the phone and takes our photo.
“I’m also betting Vivian would love to see it.”
He’s not wrong.
Before he gives my phone back, Slate wakes up from his nap and is right by my feet.
“And you need one with Slate.”
This man.
Chapter Twenty-Four
SLATE SNORED IN the pack while Ivy and I chatted throughout the rest of the hike. She seemed more relaxed and I’m guessing she was finally comfortable and knew what to expect.
She confessed to having a significant sweet tooth, which I already knew, and she asks where we get the chocolate that’s in the gift shop. I promise to take her to the local spot before she heads back home. We talk about how I’m a runner, how she never could be, but she likes to do spin and HIIT workouts.
That’s where she got those fantastic fucking legs from—spin class.
She wanted to know my connection to the lodge. I gave her the short version—my grandparents started it, my parents ran it until they were ready to pass it on, and now in my hands it sits. I left out the Hazel part.
I almost didn’t and that screams volumes—it pulls my stomach in a weird way. Not many people know that story.
She shares a few details about her own family, which is small. She’s an only child. She has a single aunt on her mom’s side, who never had kids. She has no cousins. It seems like she has a good relationship with her parents but they seem to do their own thing and are traveling ninety percent of the time. For example, they just left for a four-week vacation in Africa.
