The very last thing I need right now is to think about spendingmoretime with Sadie.
We make it without issue to our campsite: one day (mostly) down without a coleader, and one more to go.
Tomorrow is the traditional day of solitude and silence that we work into every itinerary prior to summitting Mount Valerie, and Sparrow Valley is the perfect place for it: between the peaceful meadow, the nature trail, the stream lined with flowers and boulders and trees, and one of the park’s more majestic waterfalls just down the waterbed, there are a multitude of places we can all spread out without being too far from each other.
If I’m honest, our day of solitude and silence can’t come soon enough. I’ve fallen hard for Sadie Whitlock, despite my best effortsto resist her, and I need to get my head on straight. The trek is on my shoulders alone right now—I can’t afford any distractions if I’m going to be the leader Danica’s trusting me to be, the leader the group deserves. Ihaveto be able to trust myself.
The only way to do that, as much as I wish otherwise, means putting some distance between myself and Sadie. It’s the last thing I want—but it’s for her own good. It’s up to me to keep her safe.
If her safety means sacrificing my own comfort, well, that’s what I have to do.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Update on the Job Opening
Good evening, Mr. Ranger, and thank you so much for checking in.
There are a lot of factors to weigh, you’re right—and unfortunately, I’m out on a trek right now and not in a position to make such a big decision on short notice. If you have to move forward with the other candidate in the meantime, I’ll understand.
Thank you again,
August Thorn
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: RE: Update on the Job Opening
Thanks for your quick reply, Thorn, even if it’s not the answer I hoped for. I’ll move forward with the other candidate and will reach out in the future if we’re ever in the position to offer competitive pay for an additional Lead Hiking Guide.
Best,
Sky Ranger
30SADIE
I have been a ray of sunshine all day long.
I made it a point to stay chipper: to not complain, even though I had the worst caffeine headacheever, and to be a bubbly fount of optimism since our collective well has run somewhat dry.
I swatted away mosquitos.
I made peace with the sweat.
I didn’t run screaming when I saw a snake on the trail—Thorn reassured us it was harmless, and I chose to believe him, despite my self-preservation instincts kicking into high gear.
And I didn’t cry when said snake made the phraseday beastspop into my head, reminding me of how easy it’s been to laugh with Thorn about anything and everything—how easy itwas, anyway, before he started avoiding me.
All day long, I was determined to be sunshine, overcompensating for the persistent thundercloud hanging over Thorn and, by extension, the whole group. I was determined to not let his sudden coolness toward me get under my skin.
Honestly? I did pretty well, all things considered.
The thing that makes my sunny bubble burst, though, comes out of nowhere: I catch Thorn watching me from across the campfire, the most unguarded look on his face…until our eyes meet, and his shield goes right back up.
Was it something I said?
