Page 29 of Calla's Boys

Leaving her sitting with my backpack, still drinking quietly, I make my way over to Clyde.

“Getting cosy over there?” he asks, raising his eyebrow as he glances past me.

“Leave it alone, Clyde. It’s not about that right now. I think one of us needs to walk at the back with her. We can take turns, like we do with everything else involving Calla. Whatever keeps your mouth shut. I want to make sure she’ll be okay.”

“She’ll be fine, but I agree about taking it in turns,” he says, nodding slowly.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes again. Out of all of us, he’s the clingiest and most possessive over Calla—not that he’d ever admit it. He’s never said anything, but I do wonder if maybe there’s more to his behavior than he’s shown.

I shrug. It’s not my business, and I don’t care enough to find out. Calla probably knows already; she seems to be veryattuned to us all and is understanding and attentive to each of us in her own individual way.

I turn around, and this time, Doc is sitting with Calla. They’re talking quietly, and I let them have their privacy and tune out their voices, though I continue to watch her carefully.

Calla keeps peeking over the edge, then looking away before peeking again. Instead of looking down, I look outward.

The sun is high in the sky still, and the wisps of clouds drifting above us are closer than they were before, obscuring the top of the mountain slightly.

We’ve still got a long way to go, but the view from this little waypoint is incredible.

There are rolling landscapes of green and grey and shockingly blue water in the small rivers and lakes that are visible from this place.

I look upward again, wondering what awaits us at the very top and what we’ll be able to see. Billy sits down next to me and quietly observes the view as well.

Clyde is fiddling around with his backpack, but also keeps pausing to look around.

“This place is amazing.”

“Yeah, it really is,” Billy agrees, his tone filled with the same awe I’m feeling.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Calla

The boys seem to be relishing the challenge, and while I won’t deny that the view from up here is stunning, I’m more concerned about how high up we are.

I don’t know how much farther we’ll be going, or how long it will take us to reach the summit, but I’m already fighting back the terror I’m feeling.

I don’t like heights. When Doc and Clyde suggested going for a walk, I wasn’t expecting this. Considering where we are, I probably should’ve predicted that they’d want to go mountaineering and plan hikes up mountains.

I can handle being on a plane, or driving over bridges, but this is completely different. We’re basically free climbing a damn mountain, with no ropes or anything to keep us from plummeting over the edge.

My head spins as I peek down at the ground below. The only reason I’ve made it this far without panicking is my boys. I don’t want them to think I’m weak for being too scared to do this with them, and they seemed so excited I couldn’t say no, even when we reached the bottom of this perilous trail.

The sensible part of me knows it’s not completely unsafe to be up here, otherwise there wouldn’t be marked trails and there would be ‘No Entry’ signs and fences preventing access.

However, the irrational part of me is thinking about how far down it is to level ground and considering all of the ways that things could go wrong.

It’s taking every ounce of my control to keep myself from panicking. It’s already harder to breathe, the last thing I need is to panic and start hyperventilating when the air is already thin.

I try to focus on the view instead of the drop, but it’s difficult to keep my eyes from scanning the ground below us. I take a deep breath, feeling my lungs burn as they protest the slight lack of oxygen and relief the action usually brings.

Breathing a little shallower, I try to regulate them instead, trying to keep myself from gasping. Thankfully, none of the boys seem to have noticed that anything is wrong, and I plan to keep it that way.

The sound of movement nearby catches my attention, and my heart jolts as Clyde gets to his feet. He’s holding a thick wind of rope in his hands, and takes one end of it, looping it through the harness around his waist.

Oh, God, are we about to start the next leg of our trip? Fear sets in a little deeper at the prospect of going higher, and I’m beginning to wish I’d just told them from the start that I don’t like heights.

Billy, Doc, and Jesse also stand up, and I reluctantly do the same. I move as close to the rocky wall as I can and wait for them to secure me to their harness.

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