Page 102 of On Merit Alone
He frowned again. A record for most frowns in a row I thinkfrom him and it made my stomach curl up. “I’m fine. I just don’t like this.”
“This” was a gesture in my general direction which just made my mind race. Did that mean he didn’t like it when I was in a bad mood or that he just didn’t like me? I knew I should have told him I didn't feel well and just cancel for the day. Now he was seeing what I was really like and second-guessing his decision to continue hanging out with me.
Instead of a gentle touch or one of his sweet hugs, he just walked behind me, ushering me to my locker room and stopping me before I went in. When I looked at him, his face was still turned down, his arms crossed over his chest. I pursed my lips, not liking that look one bit, but bit my tongue not wanting to know what it meant just yet.
If this was the end of his threshold for me, I’d rather learn of it in a text or by him avoiding me or something. Anything but finding out face-to-face where I could see everything I was losing literally slip from the palm of my hand.
But he didn’t break anything off just yet. He just pointed at the door behind me and said, “Change up and meet me at my car in twenty. I'm driving today.”
Ira’s car—at least his everyday driver—was this souped up black SUV with special edition blacked out everything. Every detail from the logo to the button dials were black, matte black, or black leather. His engine roared like some kind of muscle car, and I’m pretty sure it was lifted just slightly taller than a regular SUV, or maybe it was just built bigger. Either way the thing was somehow huge while also getting away with looking sleek. It was very him—extravagant in an understated sort of way.
I’d seen his car once or twice before; that’s how I knew where to meet him. That and the fact that he waited for me leaning against the hood of it with his arms crossed and his eyes on me like a laser tracker.
Wherever he was taking me, however, I had not seen before. Wherever he was taking me was far, the route decorated with a backdrop of large trees and rock forms as we drove toward the mountains. And it was not accompanied by conversation. Both of us focusing on our respective thoughts in silence.
As long as I’d lived in Denver, I had yet to go on one singular hike. It was a shame, I know, but the truth was I had no idea if I even liked hiking. I didn’t know how to look for trails, I didn’t know what was good for beginners, and I especially didn’t like the fact that so many true crime podcasts took place in settings like hiking trails. That kind of thing did not bode well for a woman wanting to hike alone. This on top of an already busy and physically straining schedule and it almost made sense that I’d made it five years without seeing the side of a mountain.
It was something I was already resigned to never experiencing. I never thought I was missing out on much. So imagine my surprise when almost as soon as we stepped out of the car and I breathed in the crisp mountain air, a calmness started over me that I wanted to explore.
The base of the trail Ira was taking me on wasn’t what I was expecting. There was a little dirt parking lot with signs and maps stationed in various places. I guess I thought to hike a mountain, you’d have to park on the side of it and hope your emergency parking brake was worth its salt.
I continued to be surprised as Ira scanned the map, told me we were going on the yellow route—Buckhead Trail—and proceeded to lead me to the start of a trail that simply looked like dirt and trees.
We climbed. It wasn’t terribly steep, but the walk was hike enough that it brought my heart rate up. The burn in my legs was minimal but different from the burn I was accustomed to feeling from practices and workouts. It was a surprisingly nice change. The serenity of the trail—decorated with wildflowers that sprouted offthe side of the path or random baby streams that were probably trickling down from the top of the peak or the sounds of nature surrounding us and swallowing us up completely. Trees rustling, birds chirping, the random unknown rustling in the brush beyond—all of it brought peace and clarity to my thoughts. It was a different sort of head-in-freezer moment. It was eye opening.
Ira didn’t coddle me; he didn’t speak to me, either. The most I’d been made aware of his presence after we started up the trail was when he pointed out the occasional uneven step or when he reached back once or twice to tug on my hand after I got distracted by this thing or that.
He was polite, but he was always polite. So as we got to our destination—a wide opening at the top ofthissection of the mountain that spread out to a large expanse overlooking deeply cut rock formations, ragged peaks, and an array of brassy colors all under a layer of sky that was so blue and sun that was so yellow, it looked like a straight up painting—my awe at the sight I was witnessing was peppered with the tiny bits of awareness that he was acting strange.
Which is probably why I was taken by so much surprise when strong arms wrapped around my waist and a warm body nestled itself snugly to my back. I don't want to admit that I immediately melted into him, but I also don't want to lie. As soon as his arms wrapped around me and his body provided that strong steadiness I knew to be his, I was gone.
Wrapping my hands around his forearm, I leaned my weight into him. He snuggled me up tighter, dropping his chin to my shoulder and his mouth close to my ear.
“I'm not going to push you off, Six. I’d torture you in much better ways if that was my goal,” he said.
I chuckled, my breath hitching a little when he ran his nose at the sensitive spot behind my ear.
“Feeling any better?” he asked.
“A lot better. Great actually,” I said, looking out at the view. “How do you know about stuff like this?”
“I grew up here. I have places that I’ve loved since I was a kid. Places that have never failed me. Something for each mood I’m in,” he said easily.
I swallowed. “Is this one of them?”
“No, Six. This is where I took you to kill off my competition for highest scorer in the stadium,” he said. I smiled, and he laughed, somehow knowing I was grinning without even seeing my face. “Yes, this is one of those spots. My sister is the one who introduced me to hiking. My parents only come out when we make them. And this is the first hike I ever found on my own.”
“The first?” I asked. “How long ago was that?”
“Picture a fifteen-year-old Ira,pissedbecause he was being forced to play post and couldn’t shoot as much as he wanted to. My shot was shaky back then, and I was already taller than most high school kids, so it made sense. It was actually a great experience for what my game would later evolve into in college… in hindsight. But I didn’t see it that way at first, and when it happened, I wanted blood.”
I giggled. “Fromwho?”
“From the annoying assistant coach that put me in the position,” he said in his own laugh. “But my dad would have my ass if I acted up with an adult, so I had to find another way to take my frustration out. I decided screaming off the top of a mountain was how I would do it. I couldn’t even drive yet, but I made my brother cart me up here and wait in the car while I huffed my way up on a warpath.”
“Did you scream?” I asked.
“Nope.” He shook his head, and I felt it on mine. “Once I started walking, I started to think things through. I started seeing things that were bigger than me, different than I was. And I started to forget if it was pride or principal that I was supposedly so outraged over—or if I was just being a teenage asshole. I only made it about halfwayup before I wasn’t mad anymore. And when I got up here, when Isawwhat’s out there, it all melted away.”
