When we’re done, Zoe heads back to her tent without another word. Everyone else seems eager to talk as much as possible while they can. They start with Two Truths and a Lie—with a dash of Truth or Dare—that culminates in Emma launching into a very loud, very off-key song.
I don’t realize I’m watching for Sadie’s reaction until her eyes flick toward mine. This would most definitely spark some sort of flirty banter between us on any other night—but tonight, again, she just looks away.
They move on to more ghost stories, and Parker tells everyone about the house where her grandmother lives, which definitely sounds haunted.
“Could you keep it down?” Zoe interrupts a while later, not even bothering to poke her head outside her tent. “Someof us are trying to sleep!”
Emma and Trey exchange an eye roll, though everyone lowers the volume a few notches without Zoe having to ask twice.
As loud as the others have been, Sadie’s hardly said a word, a shell of her usual self. If anyone’s noticed, they haven’t shown it.
“I think I’m going to try to sleep, too,” she says a few minutes later, out of nowhere. “Y’all have a good night, okay?”
It takes everything in me to not follow Sadie to her tent—to not take back every word I said earlier—but she’s been front and center in my thoughts all night as it is. If I’m this distractednottalking to her, how much worse would it be if I were to give in?
I can’t stand the thought of her thinking I don’twantto talk to her, though. That I don’t want her around.
There has to be some way I can show her how I feel without risking the steep slide of accidentally falling into her tent for the rest of the night.
I help Silas and Hunter and Trey clean up around the campfire before heading to bed—and that’s when it hits me, courtesy of the speckled blue camp cup Hunter uses every day.
When everything is still and quiet, I slip over in secret to Sadie’s tent. I’m thankful for the crescent moon, which gives off just enough of a glow that I won’t have to turn on a light of my own.
I hold my breath, careful not to crunch too loudly as I step through gravel and fallen branches to get there. Just outside the door to her tent, I set everything up where there’s no chance she’ll miss it: both boxes of coffee, the various pieces of her pour-over equipment, and her favorite mug—all of it acting as a paperweight on top of my note, scribbled hastily on a page torn from my journal.
Sadie’s so close right now, and the temptation is real; I hurry back to my tent before I break down and ask if I can climb into hers instead.
Make it through the rest of this trek, I tell myself.If she’s still on your mind after that, you can…
I pause, unsure how to even finish that sentence.
Canwhat?
Can tell her how much I’ve enjoyed getting to spend time with her, knowing she’s just going to fly back to Texas while I’m ushering in a brand-new wave of hikers for the next adventure?
It suddenly seems like a never-ending cycle: I’m a pony at a state fair, walking the same circles over and over. And while the rider dismounts after a little while, I never leave. The track just gets deeper and deeper the longer I’m on it, a trench that’s simultaneously comforting—it’s what I know, what I’m good at, and in a lot of ways, a home I love—and stifling. At what point does the trench become a trap that I’m unable to climb out of?
Maybe I should have thought twice before writing back to Sky Ranger, maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to say no.
But what other option did I have? Now more than ever, Danica needs me. It’s not like she has a stable full of reliable guides just waiting for their turn in the ring—she’s got Jess, who didn’t plan well enough to be here and got stuck in Hawaii. She’s got Matteo. She’s got a few others, too, but they’ve made it clear they’re not here for the long haul. What would happen to the tour company if I left?
More than that, I simply love being out here. I always have.
Right?
Sure, it’s the same thing over and over, but the people make it different every time—it’s never the exact same adventure, and it always brings new challenges. It’s never bothered me to this extent before.
Tonight, I can’t seem to let it go.
For the first time in as long as I’ve been a hiking guide, I’m starting to wonder if I’m less of a risk-taker than I’ve always believed. If I truly want to be brave and stretch myself, maybe I should consider stepping out of the rhythms I’ve built here and try something new—
Withsomeone new.
But the idea of leaving the pony circle of these trails feels overwhelming, if I’m honest.
What is my life outside of this place?
DAY NINE
