AllFreeNovel
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He opens his door. “No, we’re walking from here.”
I jump out, meeting him at the back of the truck as he lowers the tailgate. “Uh, I thought we were going to like, put up a tent and then go look around.”
He grins. “No. That’s not what we’re doing. Come on. Grab your pack.”
I attempt to grab the backpack he’s set against the tire and scowl at him. “This thing weighs roughly a million pounds. I thoughtyouwere going to do all the heavy lifting.”
“I am. Lift your backpack and then lift mine. This would be a lot easier on you if you’d come into the yard to train with me like I’ve offered a hundred times.”
“This would be a lot easier on me if you’d just carry all the stuff too,” I counter.
The path he heads up once the packs are on is so narrow I’m not even sure it’s actually a trail. He stops to hold a branch for me, which is the first gentlemanly thing he’s done so far today.
Atruegentleman would have parked at a fucking campground so we didn’t have to lug all this shit around.
“How do you know where we’re going?”
“Just guessing,” he says over his shoulder. “If I’m wrong, we’ll turn around.”
“Well, how long is it going to take for you to figure out you’re wrong? I don’t want to walk three miles for nothing.”
I hear his low laugh. “Don’t worry your pretty head,Kate. Once in a while you’ve got to hand over the reins.”
“Oh, I’ll hand over thereins,” I murmur.Tonight. While we’re sharing a tent.
“What’s that?” He smirks over his shoulder at me.
“I was talking to myself,” I reply primly.
About twenty minutes in, we get to an overlook, and he tells me we’re taking a break. My shoulders ache as I unceremoniously drop the pack and plop onto the large boulder in front of us. He produces a water bottle and I drain half of it immediately, silently thanking God I didn’t bitch about the amount of water he was packing, which I definitely considered doing.
The sky is impossibly blue, the breeze just cool enough to be welcome.
I hold my face to the sun. I haven’t thought about Hannah or Caleb until now. Should I feel guilty about that? I’m not sure.
When my eyes open, Beck is watching me. “How are you doing?”
I give him a small nod. “I’m good.” It’s only after I say the words aloud that I realize I actually mean them. Iamgood. I’m lighter. I can’t stop smiling. I’mhappy.
Notalmosthappy.
Notless sad.
Happy.
I’ve spent my entire life feeling as if I don’t belong anywhere. And I don’t know if I necessarily belong in the wilderness either, but when I’m with Beck, it doesn’t matter. I know I’m not lost, and that’s enough for now.
After a few minutes, he stands and helps me lift my pack. The weight appears to have doubled while we sat, and we’ve got a really steep climb ahead of us, but that’s okay too.
I shift the weight of the pack as best I can, holding it up to relieve one shoulder, then the other, and I walk, and walk, and walk. It’s funny, the way having so little to focus on makes the smallest things special: a cluster of wildflowers still growing despite the dry summer; birds chirping; a burbling brook we have to maneuver across.
It seems like hours before we stop again, at an overlook where the sharp peaks below us look like gently rolling hills.
“God,” I groan. “I’ve never, in my entire life, appreciated sitting as much as I do right now.”
He hands me my water. “It takes a little bad to appreciate the good.”
“That sounds like some self-help bullshit right there,” I reply, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.
