She stares at my pursed lips and turns bright red. It’s a small consolation, but then she turns away again, throwing up her arms like she’s just won an Olympic medal.
“Right! Yes. Sky! Sweet sky!” she laughs. “Freedom!” She glances at me again, flustered when she catches me watching her. “We parked over there? I mean, obviously, it’s your truck right there. Duh.”
“Yep, that’s the one,” I say slowly.
In the truck, she fidgets with the air conditioning and scrolls through playlists, unable to settle on a vibe. Every movement feels exaggerated, like she’s performing on a stage.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I thought—well. Yesterday was the best day of my life. From the shower, to the event, to spending the night together. After unburdening my guilt, I feel born anew, cleansed, full of purpose.
I want Sierra back. Closure is no longer enough for me. It will never be enough, and it was foolish to pretend otherwise. Seth knew, though he warned me against it. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but Sierra…
Who is currently rolling down her passenger window with the intense focus of someone dissecting the nuclear atom.
Okay then. I can be patient. I waited seven years for her, though I didn’t realize that’s what I was subconsciously doing at the time. I never thought she’d come back, and I can’t squander this opportunity any longer. If she needs to be coaxed back to me, I’ll do whatever gentle persuading it takes. “Gentle” isn’t really my style, but if that’s what it takes…
“Sierra.”
She startles. “Yes?”
“We have the day off. Let’s go climbing.”
She looks at me, truly looks, for the first time that morning. “Really?”
“I want to see what you can do. Your whole lifestyle is climbing. I bet you miss it,” I add.
“I do,” she says softly. “Yeah, let’s go!”
We quickly change when we get home. I fight to keep my hands to myself when she reappears, her eyes bright with excitement. Her pink tank top and leggings bring out the color in her cheeks, which deepens when she sees me.
She babbles nervously all the way to Isolation Canyon, bashful and flustered every time I look at her. It’s both adorable and frustrating.
Isolation Canyon is a stunning, narrow canyon with steep, rugged quartzite cliffs. We hike past spindly trees and scrubby bushes, shallow, algae-green ponds, and the occasional prickly pear cactus, until we reach a pre-drilled sport-climbing route.
We agree to her climbing first while I belay. When we perform the standard safety practice of checking each other’s climbing equipment, she leans back so far that I nearly have to drag her forward.
“What are you doing?” I ask in exasperation as she hesitantly pokes my harness with her fingertip, as if afraid to come any closer.
“You have Petzl climbing gear too! No way!” Sierra says instead. “I love them. I won a full climbing gear pack from their sweepstakes a few years ago. It was a lifesaver—gear is so expensive. I’ve always been very lucky like that. Did I ever tell you I also won a lifetime membership to my climbing gym too?”
“Wow,” I say. Then, hesitantly. “It was me, actually.”
Sierra tilts her head.
“After the treasure was found. It only seemed fair at the time, since I was pouring money into the town, that you get a piece of the windfall too,” I say. I can’t interpret her look.
Soon, I’m overexplaining the whole thing, and—judging by her silent, wide-eyed stare—probably bungling it. I explain about the private investigator, whom we hired to confirm she was still living, who provided pictures of her waitressing at a restaurant and spending all her free time at a climbing gym. How I contacted her climbing gym, how they agreed to an anonymous gift membership and then shared that she often rented gear for outdoor climbing.
“So I purchased and mailed the Petzl gear,” I say. “It was…probably an overstep.”
She picks up the rope, the same Petzl gear I gifted her so many years ago. Her hands and eyes slide along so intently and slowly, like she’s looking for imperfections—but finding none.
“Talk to me, baby,” I murmur.
She flinches, then sighs. “Climbing means so—” She stops. “It’s playing out differently in my mind now. All the years, all those memories and incredible experiences.” She looks up at me then, her face conflicted with both dismay and awe. “It was because of you.”
“You shouldn’t give me that much credit. You would have found a way to pay for it yourself. All I did was make the path you chose a little easier.” I can’t help reaching out and tipping her chin up. “You don’t always have to struggle so hard on your own.”
“Stop being so perfect,” she mumbles. “It’s fucking annoying.”Then she grabs my harness, hauls me forward, and tugs so hard on the carabiner that I grunt.
