“Fuck no I don’t.”
“I have to go do laundry.” Ben was still whispering, for some reason. “And repack my pack.”
“And I have to go attend some boring meetings. But look, Ben? It was really good to hear your voice.”
Ben smiled again.
“Find the boy if you want. But take care of yourself first, okay?”
“Okay. I love you, Jules. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Send me more pictures of weird shit.”
She hung up.
Slowly, Ben got himself together. He supposed he wouldn’t move in with Mo. He already knew what a hassle it was, moving in with a guy. He took another shower. Brushed his teeth. Opened his resupply box. Threw his dirty clothes into a bag to drag through town. Rinsed his water filter. Charged everything he needed to charge, texted everyone he needed to text.
It was only later, when he was doing a final sweep of the room, that Ben noticed Alexei’s empty resupply box, broken down and tucked neatly behind his bed.
He leaned down to grab it. Stared at the return address in Portland, Oregon. The street where Alexei Lebedev lived when he wasn’t on a trail.
Ben had always pictured Portland full of hipsters and queer people. He’d always wanted to visit. It was funny, picturing someone like Alexei there—a sincere, quiet data analyst, among the tattoos and dyed hair.
Ben snapped a photo of the address with his phone before returning the box to its place on the floor.
Chapter Thirteen
Hiking was hell.
Alexei didn’t know why anyone did it.
A casual stroll through the woods? Sure. But backpacking? Carrying around fifty pounds on your back through dangerous wilderness, day after day, when civilization wasright thereas a viable option? Having to transport your trash in a dirty Ziploc bag? Spending half of your days stressing about finding clean water? Getting sunburned no matter how many times you reapplied your greasy sunblock? Not to mention! The constant, persistent, infuriating bugs! Every damn day!
Why.Why.
Plus, Alexei felt like junk. Less than twenty-four hours off trail, and it was like his body had forgotten how to walk. He had a headache. Had lost his appetite again. And his newly resupplied pack felt like it weighed a million pounds.
There were trees, once he was back on trail, and wonderful views, and Alexei would have loved this day, probably. Before.
After three shin-crunching, mind-numbing miles through town, Alexei pushed uphill for two more miles to Bertha Peak before he stopped for a break. It was a perfect place to stop, with an unimpeded view of Big Bear Lake. Alexei stared down at the sparkling blue waters far below. Shoved a granola bar in his mouth. It tasted awful.
A trill sounded from farther down the hill, followed by a series of long, clear notes. Alexei’s body stilled automatically. It was Alexei’s favorite thing about listening for birds. It forced you to be so very still.
After a few minutes, he was sure. Lark sparrow.
He almost opened his mouth. Almost turned to Ben to tell him, before he remembered.
He kept walking.
Another mile down the trail, he almost passed right by a tiny woman sitting in the dirt, head hunched over a large sketch pad.
Alexei stopped in his tracks.
“Ruby.”
She looked up. She was wearing the same outfit as the first time he’d met her: black Lycra biking shorts, a racerback tank top. Bright pink socks.
“Alexei.”
