There was a mine collapse when the coal baron himself,his business associates, and for some reason his daughter were touring the operation. Ellis’s great-great-grandad saved the baron and his daughter (none of the associates, though, unfortunately). His great-great-grandad and the daughter subsequently married. The stories never touched on whether it was for love or for a reward.
Ellis’s mother was attending The Ohio State University for an English degree when she met George Katsaros, a geology student, at an anti-war rally. He always makes sure to mentionthatone was for love.
The rest is history as told by the mouth of a millionaire commercial real estate appraiser who turned his back on the family business of devastating the earth to become a conservationist.
“They were so surprised when I stepped away,” he’ll say, grinning. “It’s notmyfault they raised an activist.”
It’s not like I don’t believe him about his great-great-grandfather’s rags-to-riches story. It’s just that my mom told me our family was given a plot in the Black Forest when our ancestor saved a Russian duke from a bear. I did a DNA test, and we’re almost entirely Welsh. Grain of salt is all I’m saying.
“The point is that I understand,” he continues. “Iwantyou here.”
I don’t know what’s wrong with me—I just know there is a problem, because him telling me I’m wanted inspires a burbling, bubbling, just-about-to-cry feeling in my chest and behind my eyes.
“Iwantto be here.”
If I can’t make this work, if I can’t keep moving up the corporate ladder until I get to an altitude that allows me to breathe, then what was the point? What was the point of my mom overworking herself until she got an ulcer to help me with college tuition? What was the point of coming in early and staying late or going to the ridiculous Ascent training that Arden badgered me about for months? I need to be here. Therehasto be a point.
He leans forward. “Here’s what I’m thinking. You know about the donated charity work I do, right? We provide pre-inspections and appraisals for conservation groups free of charge. I want to put you on these jobs. It’s a lot of driving, but it’s low effort. The reports are simple. The inspection is nothing more than taking a few pictures of trees and fields. It’s technically easy, but ultimately important work. It needs to get done, and the mountains wait for no man. Or woman.”
He’s said this before. Gone on rants about undying heaps of rock and earth sitting prone at Ohio’s southernmost border. Something in my face—or maybe nothing concerning me at all—inspires him to go on another.
“Did you know Appalachia is one of the oldest mountain ranges in the world?”
Passion lights up his face. I could reach out to wrap the curls of his hair around my finger. I could pull down sharply and then he’d know exactly how I like it.
There is a goblin living in the back of my brain. He sits in the dark with letters strewn around his knobby knees. He plucks at them with grimy fingers and arranges theminto suggestions spoken like orders. He’s the one who was chanting for me to hurt Ellis. Sometimes, I don’t stop myself from listening.
What would he do if you leaned into him?the goblin wondered a few days ago when we shared the elevator.What would he do if you leaned into him, then crushed his nose with the back of your skull? Would his blood be warm? You should find out.
I didn’t. But I wanted to.
“You take a walk in Ohio’s ‘hills,’ you’re walking on six hundred million years of shifting earth. Those mountains are older than bones, Lou.”
His voice is deep. I want to draw what he’s just described. Ink and pen. A figure huddled under trees—in the distance, hills made of blood and bone. He’s looking at me with his eyebrows creased, like he’s thinking hard about something. I want him to think about me.
As a trainee, I’ve been relegated to walking through dusty warehouses and rotting strip malls to write down measurements and take pictures of concrete destined to be torn down. Driving to the middle of nowhere where I don’t have to talk to anyone or measure anything and just take pictures of trees sounds like one hell of an incentive. I tell him exactly that.
His eyes crinkle like I’ve just said something delightful. “I’m not trying toincentivizeyou.”
The way he says the word makes my chest feel tight and hot. Is this how you get a daddy kink? I think probably yes.
“The first one would be tomorrow. The McLaren property.Sounds like enough of a breather for you to get your legs back under you, right?”
The goblin whispers,He’s asking if it’s enough time for your mom to kick the bucket and you to get over it.
I ignore the way my heart is thumping and tell the goblin to shut the fuck up.
“Yes. Absolutely. I won’t let you down, I promise.”
“I know you won’t, kiddo.”
Any other man and that word would drip with condescension. Because it’s Ellis, it makes me flush. When he hands me a folder with an address, property plat, and aerial inside, I hold the folder in my hands and think,Maybe things will be okay after all.
CHAPTER 2
if I don’t text later bigfoot got me
emailed you the address
