Page 42 of Wild Child
Uncomfortable with the implications in that line of questioning, I turned my thoughts to Steve and Kimball. This guide wasn't as fun or adventurous as I'd hoped. Nor did it seem all that safe. Before now, any guide I had done was fulfilling enough—I spent time outdoors, taught people how to appreciate mountain life, and received money for it.
Yet, that hadn't been enough. Despite the freedom of it, there had always been a gnawing sense ofthis isn't it. There's something else out there.Which led me to overnight guides. Bigger challenges. Mighty trajectories.
But this didn't feel good either.
Certainly not safe, for one. The mountains had always been a haven for me. Perhaps I'd wrongly assumed that I'd still feel safe with other people up here. Second, I didn't like catering to people and their whims. Was I a control freak, or did I just want to dictate my mountain experiences?
My thoughts felt like an unsteady lurch, as if I'd missed the last step on a staircase. A big realization hovered in the distance, just out of mental reach. Too exhausted to grapple for it now, I shoved it away after one final, lingering thought: maybe Devin is what I'd been chasing all along.
Adventure. Excitement. Fun. Laughter. Connection.
Memories.
Devin had left, disappeared like a ghost. The mountains wereourplace. The place where he came alive. The place where I could find him everywhere I went, and it didn't hurt as much.
Was guiding a poor attempt to chase ghosts?
Tonight wasn't the time to question all my hard work. Now I had to focus on two strange men with a plan of their own. Two men that, by all accounts, weren't on the up-and-up. All of a sudden, I was inordinately grateful that Devin had come. A mere canvas tent in between me and Kimball would never be enough. If not for Devin, I would have been up all night, concerned but not able to articulate why.
In the midst of my deep thoughts, Devin stopped shuffling around. Without his thick arms or warm smile every time he looked at me, the night would be far less claustrophobic.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
The plea-like words encompassed so much more than letting me sleep in his tent. He chuckled, smooth as the roar of thunder in the background. "No problem. I'm relieved to have you here. I wouldn't have slept well with you in the other tent."
A spiral of warmth, then the unsteady feeling of falling through the air, followed his words. "You moved my tent right next to yours," I said with the hope that practicality would bring me back to earth. "You would have been sleeping on top of me."
"I did."
A forbidden question surfaced and I tried to blink it away. The temptation wouldn't be denied, so I pitched my voice low. I had to ask or I'd never sleep.
"You still don't think we're safe?"
He hesitated only a moment before he said, "I think they're hiding something. Both of them."
The sleeping bag rustled when I turned to face him, the edge of my jaw brushing a bent elbow. He lay on his back, I'd bet. Arms stacked behind his head with a ruffled expression as he thought something out. Just like he always used to. His arms had doubled in size with his shoulder span, so I'd be in danger of an elbow jab to the eye if I wasn't careful.
"Kimball," he murmured contemplatively, and I would have given money for his thoughts then.
My mind churned for a moment. "Yeah, I haven't really been comfortable with it either. Let's see how tomorrow goes. We'll call it from there, okay?"
"Okay." He let out a long breath. "Just . . . don't hold onto this as your career-maker, okay? One bad overnighter doesn't doom you to abject failure or a poor reputation. Or anything, really."
No,I thought,but it does mean something else.
What thatsomething elsewas, I had no idea.
"Of course."
Another crack of thunder ripped by, this time right overhead. Lightning illuminated the tent outside. Mountain storms had always rolled through my life, but I couldn't deny a sense of comfort with Devin at my side through this one.
The words Ineededto say thickened my throat. The temptation to leave them unsaid flitted through my mind, but I ignored it. We had too much experience with the unsaid nature of important things.
"I'm grateful that you're here. This wouldn't have felt safe without you."
A warm hand found my wrist and squeezed. My breath stopped. I paused all thoughts and waited. Would his hand move? Would he keep his fingers tight around my skin? My eyes fluttered closed. I breathed the feeling of his skin against mine like missing oxygen.
"I'm glad I'm here too," he said quietly.
