Page 72 of Hooked
“I’ll be fine.” Just venting about the diet seemed to have assuaged him. “You climb that new rock?”
“Yeah. Went well. There are a few different routes we want to try next month when we have a couple more people, but for now we got a good feel for the lower level and what we need.”
“You be careful.” Gus was the only one in Jeremy’s family who asked him about climbing. His mother claimed she didn’t want to know. His father made the right noises, but Jeremy could tell it wasn’t his thing and he didn’t really get it. “And how’s that Tayla?”
“She’s great.” He forced a smile. “Her interview in San Francisco went really well. She’s waiting to see if they call her back.”
Gus’s eyes didn’t waver. “I don’t understand wanting to haul yourself up a mountain,” he said. “I don’t understand the desire for it. I worry about the danger. But I’d never ask you to stop.”
His pop wasn’t talking about mountain climbing. He was talking about dreams. “I know.”
“Take care of yourself, son.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Pop.”
“Drive safe.”
Jeremy slammed the door and started down the hill.
When he pulledinto his driveway, he saw a dark figure sitting on the porch. He pulled all the way up to the garage and got out cautiously but relaxed when he saw who it was. “Tayla?”
“Hey.”
“Hey.” He closed the door and walked around the truck bed. “What are you doing here?” He frowned. “We were supposed to—”
“No.” She stood and brushed off her pants. She was wearing a pair of skinny black jeans he loved, a T-shirt, and a long cardigan that brushed her knees. “It’s still cold at night.”
“Yeah.” He walked over and leaned against a porch post. “What’s up?”
She looked at him, then away. “You know I like it here, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s not San Francisco.”
“And that’s fine. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Metlin, okay? I’m not being a snob. I’m not being a big-city shit about small-town life or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m being a snob because I want this job.”
His heart twisted in his chest. “I don’t think you’re a snob.” He nodded toward the garage. “I really need to hang my equipment from yesterday before it gets tangled and—”
“I can help.”
He didn’t really want to continue a conversation where she justified all the reasons she was going to leave him, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to go. “Yeah, okay.”
They walked back to the garage, and Jeremy walked around to the side door and flipped on the lights. Pop’s woodworking bench lined one entire wall, each tool, saw, and clamp hung carefully on a pegboard. On the opposite wall, closest to the house, Jeremy had created something similar for his outdoors equipment. A rack of fishing poles hung high, a kayak was hoisted to the ceiling, but most of the wall was lined with hooks and small shelves to store his climbing gear.
“You have a lot of outdoor stuff,” Tayla said. “This looks like a scaled-down REI.”
“They have a lot of climbing stuff,” he said. “Cary buys most of his stuff from them.”
“Where do you get yours?”
“Local shops up near Yosemite. REI sometimes. A couple of places online.” He lifted the end of one rope and began to loop it around his palm and elbow.
“What can I do to help?”
“You don’t have to help.”
“No, I’m really good at organizing stuff,” she said. “You should see my closet.”
He smiled. “I have.”
