Page 12 of Off Trail Love
I typeout the text and then delete it three times. I’m not ready to tell anyone about what I just did. Thankfully, Fiona is distracted with Hannah telling her all about running the camp, so no one is watching me as I type out the text once more.
I slide my phone into my pocket before I can lose my nerve, and don’t send the text. I don’t need the girls’ reactions right now. Right now, I need to figure out what on earth I’m going to do.
I take a deep breath. A plan. A plan is good. Okay.
Tomorrow, I’ll wake up early and we’ll go on this hike. I’ve watched YouTube videos about the hike several times, and I even read a book about the history of the trail—which is saying something, because I really don’t read much. I know the path we’ll take. I know that by this time tomorrow, we’ll be camping at Boulderfield, ready to hike up to the summit the next day. It’s not going to be easy—in fact, I think it might just kick my butt—but I also can’t wait. The entire hike is about fifteen miles, with a pretty steep incline. Do I wish that I were slightly more in shape for this? Sure, but it’s going to be fine.
Our packs are ready. I’m ready. I can do this.
“Best get some sleep,” Graham tells the car as we pull up to our cabin. “We’ll be up dark and early to get started.”
That’s the understatement of the year. We’ll be up by four to get started on the hike at five. Most people start earlier than that, but Graham says that we’ll do okay if we start that late since we’re doing it in two days. I hope he’s right. Everything I read recommended starting at one in the morning if you want to do the hike in a day. But the weather is supposed to be clear tomorrow, so it should be okay.
I change in the small bathroom and brush my teeth. Fiona is already sound asleep when I get out. While Jack gets ready for bed—not that I’m thinking about Jack—I tuck myself into one of the sleeping bags that Graham and Hannah provide for their campers, just so we don’t have to pack up our own sleeping bags in the morning
I’m asleep before Jack even comes out of the bathroom.
CHAPTER EIGHT
jack
Sweat slidesdown my back as I shift my pack. It’s been too long since I went hiking, and I’m already starting to feel it. Which is bad because we’ve only gone two miles and still have a long way to go today. Plus even more tomorrow. I used to go hiking all the time in college. In all honesty, it was because Maggie loved it so much when we were teenagers, so when I needed to blow off some steam, it felt like a good thing to try. I ended up loving it.
I just haven’t had a ton of time lately to visit the mountains as often as I’d like.
My mind loops back around to the kiss last night. I can still feel Maggie’s anger and how soft her lips were compared to the roughness of her kiss. I know I probably shouldn’t, but I want to kiss her again. Properly. No half-second kissing. A real kiss that will knock her socks off. I should have done it back in high school, but I was too chicken.
And now she hates me.
“You still like her,” Graham says, falling into step with me. The women are about thirty feet in front of us, and I’ve been bringing up the rear with my slower pace. I don’t reply to Graham.
“Come on,” he tries again. “Talk to me about it or it’s going to eat you alive.”
“You sound like a therapist.”
He scoffs. “I’m no therapist. But I do pay attention. There’s tension between you and Maggie. What’s the story?”
I sigh since I don’t think he’s going to let this go. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. We pushed each other to do better in high school. She’s the reason I was valedictorian—I barely beat her out of it. She seems mad though, and that must be why.”
“You think that’s why?”
“I don’t know what else it could be. We were always playing pranks on each other, but they were always harmless. Like putting Silly String in each other’s lockers or Jell-O in our gym shoes.”
“You put Jell-O in her shoes?”
“No! She put Jell-O in my gym shoes.”
Graham lets out a hearty laugh. “Sounds like she can stand up to you then. She’s good for you.” He pauses for a second. “Your dad is kind of intense. You might be working too much.”
I look up from the trail below my feet at the sudden change in conversation. The trees we’re walking through right now are so green. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed the mountains until now. “I’m not working too much.” That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
“He told me you’re up for a promotion, for your own office. And that you work a minimum of sixty hours a week, but usually more. Which is why you needed this trip.”
“I didn’t realize you and my dad talked so much.”
“We don’t, but like I said, I pay attention. When he called and asked about the hiking trip, he told me more than he probably realized. He’s like my dad; they’re intense and work-driven. If you’re not careful, it’s going to ruin your relationship with him,if it hasn’t already.” Graham and his dad don’t have the greatest relationship these days. I don’t know all the details, because I was pretty young when everything went down, but I know their relationship is strained and it’s because of how hard he pushed Graham to work.
But Dad and I don’t have that same relationship. We’re us, and it’s different.
