—Savannah
The strongest, most selfless person you’ll ever meet… hurting deeply for a very long time.Why won’t those words let me go? Is it because I’d written Margot off as someone incapable of feelings deeper than a petri dish, only to see how desperately she misses her sister, who clearly hero-worships her? Or is it because all my assumptions about why she’s here have been shot down, leaving me scrambling for answers? I don’t have a fucking clue, and that’s exactly the problem. I like having a firm understanding of the world around me. Up until recently, my entire life was centered on finding answers to difficult questions. Margot Bradley shouldn’t be a mystery to me, but every time I try to file her into one of the neat little gray boxes of my mind, she bursts out in vivid color, making me question her all over again.
It’s why (with the slow-as-shit secret satellite Internet I’ve been selfishly keeping to myself) I plugged my Kindle into the lodge’s computer and downloaded her entire collected works last night. Initially, I told myself that reading her books was simply research. That Margot’s corny romance novels would disprove her claim of being able to write a make-or-break review of North Star, and I could calm the fuck down. Shamefully, I might have also been looking for evidence against Savannah’s description of Margot as strong and selfless. But by the time I started the second book at one in the morning, it had become much harder to pretend I wasn’t completely engrossed by her writing, and by her astounding sensitivity to the challenges of others.
With every nuanced delve into her characters’ complex internal landscapes, I was left wondering why the hell she was switchinggenres. While murder mysteries seem more appropriate for her prickly personality at first glance, writing tales of the heart is obviously her true calling. Then again, maybe she’s only prickly to me. She seems pretty fucking cozy with that wet-behind-the-ears rock climber Ollie. Which brings me back to the questions of why she’s giving up romance, what that might have to do with her staying here, and how the hell I’m going to keep her from ripping North Star a new one as soon as she has Internet access.
The gears in my mind grind to a halt as I nearly walk into the Eagle’s Point trailhead sign. I’ve barely noticed the ground beneath my feet, and I’m amazed I didn’t lead the group into a sinkhole or worse. I shake my head to clear the suspiciously blond cobwebs. Resettle my pack.Focus. I wasn’t kidding when I told her this climb isn’t for amateurs.
“Okay, everyone,” I say, turning to face the group. “As you know, we’re headed up to Eagle’s Point. There’s going to be a lot of scrambling over icy, snow-covered rocks, so make sure your spikes are on your boots and your poles are secure around your wrists if you’re using them.” I chance a glance at Margot, who’s gone white as a sheet beneath her usual golden glow. Ollie puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and I look away. “If, for whatever reason, you’re not feeling up for today’s hike, this is your last chance to turn back.”
I can’t help meeting Margot’s gaze, but she only lifts her chin and sends me a look that clearly and specifically says,If I die today, it’s your fault, and Iwillspend my afterlife tripping your cabin’s fire alarm every time you reach deep REM.
Fair enough. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
Past the first thirty feet of dense trees, we’re met with a tumble of boulders that’ll require sure footing to climb safely. Behind me, Topher lets out an appreciative “Sweeet” and rushes forward to monkey his way up the snow-dusted boulders outside of the designated path. I turn to look at the group before ascending, and justlike I suspected, Ollie’s eyes have gone cartoonishly round at the sight of the rocks. “Just take it slow, and use your poles,” he’s saying to Margot in a distracted voice. “You’re gonna do great.” And with that, he comes forward and leaps onto the first outcropping of rock before scrabbling to catch up to his friend.
Margot shoots me a look of panic, gripping her hiking poles like twin light sabers instead of holding them in any remotely useful position.
Alice pats my elbow as she passes by with the sort of gruff “Good luck” one wishes to a soldier headed to the front lines.
“See you at the top!” Yoon says, beaming.
As soon as they’re out of sight, I walk back to where Margot is standing completely frozen, staring at where Ollie disappeared. “He left me,” she says in shock. “Forrocks.”
“Like I said,” I say with a curious lack of annoyance. Mostly, I’m relieved Ollie left so I can manage this situation myself. Not because I want to but because the responsibility of keeping everyone safe is on my shoulders. I’d usually make the group stick together on this climb. But this isn’t the standard crowd of summer tourists. Alice and Yoon have been outhiking me on these mountains since I was a boy, and Topher and his family have been vacationing here since he was in a baby carrier. Even Ollie, I can grudgingly admit, is an excellent climber. They’re safe on their own, but Margot’s going to need all the help she can get, and it’s my job to give it to her—no one else’s.
“You don’t need to rub it in,” she says, walking forward to assess the boulders. And then to herself, “I guess it’s now or never.” She takes a breath and lowers her shoulders. Then she attempts to climb the rocks five feet to the left of the path. My mouth twitches, but I refuse to be charmed.
“You’d have an easier time if you tried climbing the actual trail,” I say after watching her struggle for a solid minute.
She turns sharply, her long blond ponytail whipping aroundher fleece ear warmer, and blasts me with a smile so beautiful, it has to be dangerous. “Then maybe, instead of just standing there like a creepy Paul Bunyan, you could show me the way.”
Tearing my eyes away from the dimples on either side of her smile feels like trying to peel off industrial-strength Velcro. “The trail starts here,” I say, pointing to a slab of rock that was wedged into a wide crevice by my grandfather decades earlier. “Look for flat places like this, and always secure your poles before you step. You can lean on them for leverage.”
For a moment, her bravado slips, and she catches her full bottom lip between her teeth. “Shouldn’t you go first?”
“Only if you want the rocks to catch you if you fall.”
I watch her eyes travel up the steep incline of boulders, the long line of her throat moving in a tight swallow. “Good point,” she whispers.
“Ready?”
“Areyouready?” she counters, pinning me with a glare.
“For what?”
“Catching me if I fall. My life plan doesn’t actually include ‘Shit my pants and die in Alaska.’?”
A surprised laugh escapes me. “That depends. Are you planning on shitting your pants before I catch you, or only if I miss?”
She holds up a hand, and even through her mitten, I can tell she’s flipping me the bird.
“Come on,” I say, unable to wipe the smile off my face. “I’ll catch you either way.”
And so we begin, step by step, to climb one of the steepest trails on North Star’s property. Margot is slow and unsure of every foothold despite the way her toned legs easily carry her over the boulders. Not that I’m focused on how toned her legs are in those thermal tights. Or her ass, for that matter, which has been directly in front of my face for the past twenty minutes. To keep myselffrom staring and potentially falling to my death from distraction, I keep my eyes down as much as I can. Finding the next step, and the next, and the—
“I made it!” she shouts up ahead.
