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The jab earns me an eye roll. “See you in a bit.”
We part ways at the lodge, and I head up through all the rows of cabins—thinking maybe he went off and found another one of the groups—only to come up empty.
I don’t have any luck up near the hiking path, and he’s not in the field off the far end of the lake either. But just as I’m about to leave the field and head back in, I finally spot him.
Across the lake.
Sitting at the edge of the dock, legs dangling in the water.
Alone.
It’s not until I see him that I realize how truly anxious I’ve been about him being missing. Relief floods through me, washing through every cell of my body. It’s probably also why I take off in a dead sprint until I reach the trail leading to the dock. Swear to God, I’ve never run faster in my life, even with the plethora of blisters sure to be covering my feet by now.
And the second he comes into view again at the end of the path, I can finally breathe.
From this distance, he appears unharmed. And even though he’s a hundred yards away, the slump of his back and downward droop of his head make it obvious he’s upset about something.
Or like he’s a child version of Atlas; the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.
Slowly, I close the distance to Elijah, and when I reach his side, I choose not to speak. Instead, I slide out of my shoes before taking a seat beside him, ready to submerge my feet in the cool lake water.
“You probably shouldn’t do that,” Elijah mutters, breaking the silence without so much as looking at me. “Your blisters could get infected.”
He makes a valid point, but…
“I’ll take my chances,” I reply, plunging my feet through the surface.
Silence lingers between us, allowing the sounds of nature to fill the void. Birds chirp off in the distance, and the wind creates small waves in the lake that lap against the edge of the dock.
It’s peaceful. Calming.
Elijah might as well be any ice sculpture, giving off every I don’t want to fucking talk vibe possible. But as more time and silence stretches, I can almost feel him melting beside me.
And then, without any prompting, he speaks.
“I hate coming here.”
I shift my attention to him, treading carefully with my response. “To the lake?”
“Alpine Ridge,” he corrects, kicking his feet in the water. “It sucks here.”
I’ve got to give Colin credit; he’s spot on about Elijah not enjoying his time here. But that didn’t seem to be the case earlier today on the hike.
I wonder what’s changed since then.
“You’re telling me you didn’t have fun today on the hike?”
His brow raises, but he still doesn’t look at me. “You think climbing mountains is fun? It’s literally walking uphill to nowhere before turning around and going back down.”
My lips quirk, because, yeah. Hiking is kind of insane when you put it in that perspective.
“And you didn’t have a good time out here earlier this week? Kayaking and canoeing?”
This time, all I get is a headshake.
“Then why do you keep coming? I mean, I know your uncle runs the place, but…” I trail off, purposely leaving the sentence open-ended so he can fill it as he pleases. Hopefully he does, giving me more than a couple short words as an answer.
When those two saucers for eyes finally move away from the water and look up at me, I can see the breakthrough we’re about to make.
