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Slamming the notebook shut, I shove it back into its proper place, hop off the stool and rip open the fridge. The ice-cold water sliding down my throat settles heavy as a rock in my stomach. I wipe my mouth and lower my chin to my chest, blowing out a big breath. Tonight is over and tomorrow’s a new day. A new day to forget how impossibly in love I am with my best friend. Unrequited love is a bitch.
* * *
Sweat poursdown my back as I walk the dirt trail, pointing out to the clients the various trees and flowers on either side of us.Isaac’s beside me, towering over everyone, my quiet friend who’d bend over backward to help anyone in need without saying a damn word.So why do I insist he do guided tours with me?Because the man knows his shit and it doesn’t hurt to get him out of his shell.However, since he and Lynn got married and took over Mae’s, he’s loosened up and will engage in a lengthy conversation… but on his terms.
“The Ponderosa Pine or Pinus ponderosa is the state tree.Ranging from fifty to one hundred and eighty feet tall, they can live up to one hundred fifty years old,” I relay from rote memory, brushing my hands through the thick needles as we pass them.
“So not unlike how old all of us are,” one of the senior citizens blurts out.
“You said it, not me, Kenny,” I chuckle before rattling off some more facts.We’ve paused near a flat area pocketed with large boulders, most likely from several decades-old landslides.The warm summer breeze glides through my hair and over my bare arms, drying up the sweat seeping through my shirt.Two squirrels chase each other up the timber and a client snaps a picture before the critters disappear into the dense leaves.
“Last time you said something about a penis tree, is that correct?” Harriet shouts her question up at Isaac, whose ears go pink. I avert my head to hide my amusement.
She’s a witty lady, her milky eyes still shine with the youth of a twenty-year-old despite the cane she uses to support her aging weight.
“That would be the Pinus flexilis or the Limber Pine, Mrs. Weaver.” Isaac clears his throat as I do my best not to crack up.This is the reason I made him do the senior citizen tour with me today.Shit like this never gets old, just the people.
“Well, I’ll be. A Limber tree, ya say?” Her papery lips sprout in a mischievous grin.
I lean against a tall rock, pretending to inspect a nail, enjoying the exchange.
“Yes, it refers to its tough and flexible twigs,” Isaac says, rolling his lips in, trying to contain his own snickers.
“Hear that, Todd? Tough and flexible twigs.Why don’t you snag one for later, dear?” She waggles her cane in her husband’s face before following the rest of the guests down the trail.
I quickly speed up to avoid the end of that conversation and launch into the wildlife, specifically the wolverines which have been known to show up,fielding questions about Hugh Jackman and how in the movies he looks nothing like the real animal.
We break for lunch near the waterfall, stuffing our faces with these little brisket sandwiches Lynn whipped up, paired with the softest huckleberry cookies.
“Isaac, your wife is a damn genius in the kitchen,” I tell him as I swipe another cookie from the tin.“They practically melt in your mouth.”
He smiles his crooked grin and nods.“Yep. She’s amazing.”
I swallow and force myself not to get all emotional over his happiness.He deserves it, hell we all do, but for some of us, it won’t be in the cards.
“Hey! Stay away from the poison ivy, Rick.Yes, it’s three leaves. Look at the pamphlet for reference.Your daughter will kill me if I bring you back infected.” I huff out a laugh, grab my drink, and turn to Isaac.“It’s like herding feral cats, dude.”
He shakes his head, his hair grown out from when he last cut it, now brushing the collar of his T-shirt.“Makes me glad Lynn and I decided against kids.I love them and all, but the constant dodging of questions is exhausting.And these people are grown adults.”
Tossing my empty water bottle on top of my bag, I nod.“I get it. Parenting is a tough gig, and it’s not for everyone.I’m glad Theo is out of his toddler stage, but now he thinks he’s too cool for anything and I have to beg him to talk to me.He’d rather chat to his friends through his headset while he games.Makes me miss when he was little and would hang onto my legs and not let go.”
As a kid, I remember running around the living room chasing Preston. Dad was chuckling, Mom was scolding us for wearing our shoes inside. P had stolen the last piece of pizza and I wanted a bite. Down I went onto the corner of the coffee table, receiving a tiny scar. I still sometimes point it out when he’s being an ass.
Being young and having a sibling, especially a twin, was a gift I squandered as I got older. I grew more selfish, jealous, and made life for my twin miserable. Preston was who I wanted to look up to and instead I punished him for being the better brother. Stole his date at the junior high dance, pretended to be him to swipe test answer keys, thus getting him benched for at least two baseball games. All because I thought he was liked better than me, rather than recognize our individual worth. Then I ruined his engagement. How low could I possibly get as a human?
The only consolation is knowing that Theo has so much of his mother in him. Any siblings he may get will hit the jackpot of brothers.
Isaac bobs his head and wipes his hands on his jeans before leaning back against the tree we’re sitting under.The tourists are busy munching on food from their sacked lunches, and the chatter is another buzz joining the forest noises.
“It can happen for you again, you know. Having more kids.With her,” he says, sliding his intense brown eyes my way.
Ripping into my bag of trail mix, I use it as an excuse not to say anything.As I chew through a raisin, I flare my nostrils.I don’t even know what to say anymore.My feelings for Scarlett have been building for years and everyone seems to think it’s okay to tell her.They don’t seem to understand all the implications.I’m annoyed with myself for being ill- equipped to keep secrets.
“I really wish it was that simple for me, man.” I reply, swatting a fly out of my face and watching as one of the older couples walks hand in hand around the waterfall.“What’s simple is, it’s too much of a risk for me to take.”
Isaac shrugs his massive shoulders.“What is life if there’s no risk involved?Look at us, what we do here. Taking people out into the wild, teaching them about it, immersing ourselves in it despite all the dangers everywhere.But we do it to show them the beauty of it.Same with relationships. Sometimes the risk is worth it because the magic is so much greater.”
Risk is that unwanted piece of luggage in yourcloset.I took them all the time, everywhere Iwent.Cost me my brother for years when I needed him the most—cost me friendships.Resulted in me losing my father, who died after a visit out here to convince me to reconcile withPreston.And I was lucky my recklessness didn’t destroy an innocent’slife.
“I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk so much.” I grumble and then he chucks me in theshoulder.
“Love changes you and most often in the best of ways.” He smirks as he stands and struts toward the group, packing up their lunch bags before we headback.
I sigh into the wind, letting the air take my words withit.“Love can also tear apart those you needwhole.”
A thought breezes by, a whisper, a caress against my cheek. What about Rowan? She’s nice, funny, incredibly beautiful, and from what she’s said—available. I’m no stranger to mindless flings. Hell, my kid apparently caught me snacking on someone’s face last year. I’m not immune to the charms of women, but they don’t stick, I don’t pen their names and I don’t feast twice. They understand the rules. I’m upfront—casual was the game. But Rowan wouldn’t be casual. She’s got long term written all over her. And at this point in life, I’m over casual. I want real, long-lasting love. I want commitment. I already have the white picket fence and the kid. Now, I just needher.
The sun beats down through the leaves of the trees, splashing across my heated face. I spring to my feet and snatch up my pack. My movements are jerky as I join the group, and I vow to keep my irritation in check for the rest of the tour by means of distraction and ignoring the questioning looks from Isaac. Why am I entertaining thoughts of another woman when, for the last eight years, I’ve done nothing but pine after Scarlett? It’s because I fear time, the one thing we aren’t guaranteed, is running out for me.
