Hanlon
Just so you know, I didn’t ask for this.
Ishe talking about whatever is bringing him out here, or the cold shoulder I’ve been giving him for years?
Guess the only way I’m going to find out is to call him.
I don’t send a text reply before hitting the button to connect the call, ready to get this over with.
“Stone.” Hanlon says my name instead of a greeting.
His voice has always been deeper than mine, which really used to piss me off. A lower pitch, raspy quality, and softer volume are all characteristics that come from his weakened vocal cords—which is ironic because after hearing him, you’d think he could move mountains. The deep timbre always felt at direct odds with his lanky build, outdated glasses, and nerdy vibe. But there’s a note of something this time that I haven’t heard before:confidence.
Usually, when Hanlon speaks to me, it’s with a quiet note of question, like he’s always wondering if he’s said the right thing.
“Hi,” I say shortly, my annoyance already seeping through. Although I’m not sure if I’m annoyed at him or myself.
“So, look,” he starts, practically growling at me. “I don’t know how much Mom and Dad have told you, but I’m finishing up my environmental science degree, and I have to have a three-month internship in the field. I swear to God I didn’t list Ricochet Ridge as any of my choices, but that’s where I got placed anyway. I don’t expect any special treatment because we’re bro…because our parents are married,orbecause of my diagnosis. In fact, I’d prefer that both of things stay between us.”
I’m having trouble keeping up, because in order for him to be any kind of student placed withme,itwould mean he’s in theliteralfield. As the team leader for Ricochet Ridge’s Ski Patrol, I drop charges out of helicopters to trigger avalanches for a living.
Hanlon may never have taken the easy route because of his diagnosis, but that doesn’t meanmyfield is a good fit for him. It’s dangerous, fast-paced, and leaves little room for error.
“I doubt you’ll be with me anyway. You know I work with ski patrol, right?” I ask, seeking clarification.
“No shit, Stone. In case you forgot, I was still at home with our parents when you took off for this job. Mom doesn’t worry about you any less now than she did when you first started.”
A pang of guilt twists my gut. Lana texts me every couple of days just to check in. The conversations aren’t long, just enough so she knows I’m alive.
“Okay, so what exactly are you planning to do out here?” My tone is more rude than necessary, but it can’t be helped.
“Whatever the fuck you tell me to,” he fires at me. “It’s your dream come true. Your name is in the box as my field instructor, which means I’ll be your bitch for three whole months, and I can’t say shit about it. The internship is through the American Avalanche Association, so I have to?—”
“Let me stop you right there,” I interrupt, my recently poured coffee cup nearly slipping from my hand. “Why thehellare you studyingavalanches?”
The urge to yell ‘that’s my territory!’ like a jealous toddler is overwhelmingly strong.
“Because I want a job as an avalancheforecaster,” he says simply.
“Why?”
“Does it really matter?”
Is that a smirk I hear in his voice?
“I guess not. Just pictured you doing something…” I trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence.
“What?” he asks. “Safer? Easier? Please don’t start with the ‘you poor disabled boy’shit now. You were always theoneperson who made me feel normal, Stone. You may not give a shit about me anymore, but I’m still counting on you treating me the same as you would anyone else and keeping your mouth shut about things that aremybusiness to tell.”
My chest tightens at his words.
The problem is that deep down, Idocare. And that’s what pisses me off.
It’s not through any fault of his that I felt the need to watch out for him or that I felt like I couldn’t go do my own thing when he was around. I was a dick to him because leaving him behind made me feel guilty, but I didn’t want him constantly tagging along, either, and I never had a choice. I couldn’t fucking win.
It would appear that I still can’t.
“I was going to saydangerous,” I finish, which is fair. Hanlon isn’t a risk-taker.
