Nashville.
Alexei repeated the word silently to himself, felt the way itrolled through his mouth.
Alexei knew nothing about Nashville.
He tried to picture it, and all that came to mind were speakeasies. Low ceilings, sweaty bodies. Neon lights; loud, brash instruments. Or were they called honky-tonks? Alexei didn't know. Was Dollywood there?Half his brain flipped over in anxiety.
The other half of his brain danced a little jig. It said:But maybe that could be fun, with Ben.
At least through the desert, the first half whispered.
Their original pact.
Alexei hadn’t meant his promise back then, but it was one that made sense now, one that allowed Alexei’s nerves to settle, his body to relax back into a trail rhythm. Ben was hoping to get off trail once they reached the Sierras, once they left the desert. Alexei had told Ben he needed time to decide about Nashville. He had time.
No matter what, they could still keep that pact. Alexei found solace in that. A boundary he could still keep.
Alexei breathed in and out. Focused on his steps, the even distribution of his weight beneath his pack.
Hundreds of miles left of just this.
Ben Caravalho’s smiles. More books to read, more birds to hear. That soft oversized sweatshirt. Ben Caravalho’s hair wrapped up in a bun. And the scorching, unforgiving trail under the Southern California sun.
Chapter Twenty
Wait.” Ben smacked Alexei on the arm, startling him from a restful half slumber. “I think I know this one.”
Alexei opened his eyes, following the path from Ben’s pointed fingertip to the top of a conifer on the other side of the trail. When he finally sighted it, too, he smiled. Impossible to miss, once you saw it. Electric yellow body offset by black wings, complemented by a bright, orange-red head.
“T-t…something. It starts with at. You told me last week. Don’t tell me.”
Alexei bit his lip to hold back his grin, to keep his mouth from saying it.
Ben sat up from where he’d been reclining on the ground next to Alexei, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hands, staring intently at the yellow dot in the tree. Like if he only stared hard enough, it would come to him.
It worked.
“Tanager!” he shouted, leaping from the ground and pummeling his fists in the air. “That is a westernfreakingtanager.” A beat later, “Right?”
“Exactly right.” Alexei let the grin escape.
Ben raised both hands in triumph before collapsing back onto the ground.
“It only took me five hundred miles to actually retain a single piece of information about birds.”
When Ben had calculated, a couple days ago, that it had been 500 miles since they’d first started walking together in Idyllwild—minus those two regrettable days they’d been apart—he had burst into that “I would walk 500 miles” song. And kept singing it. And singing it. Until Alexei had threatened to cancel his plane ticket.
When they’d left Cajon Pass almost a month prior, Alexei had spent a good thirty-six hours making constantly shifting pro-con lists in his head.
In the end, the pros won. Of course they did.
Part of it was wanting to meet Ma. Not wanting to leave Ben.
And part of it was the fact that if Alexei was serious about Alexei 2.0, about starting somewhere new, he needed to actually, well, take it seriously. He needed to visit new places. See what fit. Nashville had never appeared in Alexei’s radar of possibilities, but maybe the trail had brought him this option for a reason. Maybe he was meant to see Tennessee.
Even if he didn’t end up loving Nashville, it was still east of the Rockies. Still something totally different. Other than a trip to Russia for a family wedding when he was four years old, an event he barely remembered, Alexei had hardly been outside of this coast.
Really, he thought saying yes at all to something so unexpected was proof that Alexei 2.0 was well in progress. Alexei had spent his whole life abiding by rules, making plans and following them. Spreadsheets, syllabi, maps. He had thought that was his way out of his grief: the carefully planned route through California, Oregon, Washington, coming out better on the other side of it.
