Page 47 of Fool Me

It’s not until I say it out loud that the hypocrisy of that statement strikes me.

“Shit,” I mutter, looking around. Tessa and Aspen look sympathetic, but neither look upset. Sloane just looks sad. “I’m sorry for pulling you guys into this; lying to you all was eating me up.”

Sloane stands, crossing the small clearing and taking the spot next to Echo and I in a small patch of cool grass. “This is hard for me. I don’t like lies; I’ve seen them destroy lives.” I think she’s talking about her own, but she doesn’t say, placing a hand on my knee. “Canyon’s a bastard, and if fake dating his brother is going to help you beat him out for the job you earned, I’m in.”

“Shovel and tarp,” Aspen whispered.

“Shovel and tarp,” Tessa repeats, confirming that she’s got my back on this too.

With an arm thrown over my shoulder, Sloane breathes. “Shovel and tarp.”

“Always. No questions asked,” I respond, my throat thick, because I might be the one asking for a favor this time, but I’d do anything for them in return.

“Okay, well now I’m positive that we are not what they meant by ladies who lunch,” Tessa says, making us break out into fits of laughter.

We finish our food and hike back down. There’s an extra bounce in my step at my newfound lightness after talking to the girls. After the weird almost-kiss the other day, I was worried I was in over my head. But with their support, I’m actually looking forward to my rock climbing date with Atlas on Sunday because I like spending time with him. The flirting is an added bonus, and I believe what I said to the girls, no one can hurt me more than Canyon did.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

ATLAS

The plan had been for Harlow and I to ride together on Sunday morning for our date, but an early morning emergency surgery had us changing our plans. The patient, a lab belonging to a younger couple—their first baby—was clipped by a car in almost the same spot, with nearly identical injuries to my first pet, Bob.

Years can’t erase that feeling of fear that sixteen-year-old me felt when I hit the stray cat, or the hours of stomach-churning dread while I waited to hear if he would make it. Each time I treat an animal hit by a vehicle, it’s there, in the back of my mind, the reason I do this, along with the cranky cat who helped shape my life along with Ray.

But this was the first time I’ve been responsible for the care of a pet who was struck by a car in Timberline Peak. Losing a patient is never easy, it’s why depression and suicide rates in my field are staggering. Just like Ray was open with me as a mentor, I’m open with my small staff about my struggles with compassion fatigue and generalized anxiety disorder. They know I take duloxetine and stick to a strict workout routine, and I encourage them to find something that works for them and to come to me when things get too heavy.

Today was heavy for me. The patient came out of the procedure and will be fine, but there were minutes when I wasn’t sure that would be the case. In the moment, the pressure of life and death is manageable. I focus on the work—control the controllable. But after today especially, the mental toll has me crashing.

My body aches with exhaustion, and my mind is on auto-pilot as I drive to the trailhead. I know that meeting up with Harlowe to climb and working my body, taking that control back, is what I need. It’s better with where my head is at than going home and being alone.

I pull into the crowded gravel lot to find Harlowe and Echo getting the gear ready in the back of Phantom. Her smile as I park feels warmer than the summer air blowing through my open windows and it jolts me out of the fog.

She doesn’t wait for me to turn off the truck when I stop in the spot behind her, hopping down from the back of her SUV and standing at my door, arms resting on the window.

“Are you sure you’re up for this? We can do this another time.” Her hand dangles inside my door and I want to thread my fingers through hers, but I don’t. There’s no one here, and there’s no reason for me to touch her. After the dangerous line we walked last time we were together, and her quick retreat, I don’t want to push things.

“This is exactly what I need.” Time withheris exactly what I need.

There’s no one else in Timberline Peak I consider a friend. Well, there’s Denver, but I haven’t seen him in ten years, and one measly text exchange doesn’t make up for how I dropped him in the wake of everything that happened with Canyon.

“Okay,” she says, reaching for my handle and opening the door from the inside. She steps back, swinging the door open, and I unbuckle to turn in my seat so I’m facing her. “I’ve goteverything ready; my dad’s harness should fit you. Do you need a crash course, or do you remember how everything works?”

“There was a climbing gym near my place in Houston, but it’s not the same as sport climbing outdoors. You’re the expert here.” I try to infuse some teasing into the words, but my voice comes out a dry, tired croak.

Harlowe’s lips pull down at the corners and then she’s right there, stepping into my space, her hips slotting into the gap between my legs and her palms falling to the tops of my knees. “At the risk of overstepping, you look like you need a hug.”

“Please.” I widen my leg so she can step closer and the second her arms are around me, I dip my head, burying my face in her neck and inhaling her. “Today was hard,” I whisper the words into her skin.

“What can I do?’

“You’re doing it.” I loosen my hold on her and take the first full breath since I stepped out of surgery. “Being with you, doing something other than sitting with my thoughts, is what I need most.”

“What I’m hearing is you giving me permission to yap the entire hike in.”

A snort of laughter takes me by surprise. “Bad day or good day, I could listen to you either way.”

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