Page 17 of Off Trail Love
I nod, her words reassuring me.
I can do this. I can do hard things. I’m doing this crazy hard hike—with Jack in my hiking group, no less—and I will find a new job. I will.
“I just wish I could relax,” I say quietly to Fiona as Graham and Jack start to pull out the freeze-dried meals that will becomedinner. He pauses, pulling his phone out of his pocket. I can’t see what he’s doing from here, but a small smile appears on his face and I have to look away. I look at Fiona. “But I can’t because I don’t know what I’m going to do for work.”
“Come sit with me.” Fiona guides me to a log near our site and we sit. “What would you do if I told you that Starlight Springs needs a realtor?”
I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “Do they really?” From what she’s told me about her small town in the middle of the mountains, I can’t imagine a realtor would be all that busy.
She nods. “The town is expanding—much to the dismay of about half of us—but it’s been good for businesses and it’s keeping our town alive. But all the realtors have to drive in several hours since there are no major towns near us.”
“I don’t know, Fee.” Move my entire life to Colorado? That wasn’t the plan. Not that I had a plan really, but I just assumed I’d find something in California. That a different agency would take me on while I figure out if that’s still what I want to do.
“Think about it. The space I rent out for my yoga studio has an office upstairs that no one uses. I’d give you a great deal, and I'd recommend you to everyone.”
“Doesn’t everyone you know already have a place to live?” I ask.
She laughs. “I’ll still tell everyone to use you as their realtor.”
“You’re a good friend.” I drop my head on her shoulder. It feels so normal, even though it’s been so many years since I last saw her. Since we last talked. But sometimes, with a good friend, no matter how long you’ve been apart, it always feels easy. That’s how it is with all of my old roommates too, but I talk with them more than I’ve kept in touch with Fiona.
“Thanks for inviting me to do this.” I watch Jack—it’s like my eyes can’t help themselves and they’re drawn to him no matter where he is. He has a five o’clock shadow growing since heprobably didn’t shave this morning, and I kind of like it. I like this grown-up version of him. “And I’ll think about coming to Starlight Springs.”
“Would it help if I invited Mr. Put a Bunch of Rocks in Your Pack?” she asks. I shove her and she howls with laughter.
“Fiona.”
“Maggie.”
“You do not need to invite him to your small town. But you can help me decide what I’m going to do next to get him back for the rocks.”
Her eyes gleam. “That, I can do.”
Apparently, I underestimated her. I didn’t think she’d ever want to help me prank someone; she’s never seen that side of me because I keep it hidden. I think I do that a lot. I try to hide the real me from everyone because I don’t want to be too much or for people to think I’m weird. But maybe I should embrace myself a little more and see where it takes me. At this point, I’ve literally got nothing to lose.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
jack
I helpGraham lay out the tarp on the flat ground. We had our freeze-dried dinners—not something I ever want to get used to eating—before getting ready for bed. We’ll get up early again tomorrow so we can watch at least some of the sunrise from the summit.
We all grab our small sleeping bags and lay them out over the tarp. I end up with my head right by Maggie’s. “This okay?”
“Fine,” she says.
It’s late, and after hiking all day, I’m completely exhausted. But as I settle into my sleeping bag, the weight of the day and my conversation with Graham start to sink in.
If I could do what I really wanted to do, I’d live in some small town and do something simple that would pay the bills—even if that meant being a server at a diner or something—so I could spend the rest of my time traveling in an RV.
I roll over onto my left side, trying to get comfortable. It’s a silly dream. I should want more than a life where I rely on tips to be able to travel. But working where I am gives me very little time to travel. Sure, I went to school for marketing. I’m one of the lead marketers at my father’s firm. But if I’m being completely honest with myself, it is sucking the joy out of my life.
I sigh, listening as the noises of the night settle in around us. There are a few bugs I can hear, and every now and then the wind will rustle the leaves on the trees, but it’s almost silent.
It’s too quiet. I can’t turn my brain off.
“Are you awake?” Maggie whispers from my left. I prop myself up on my elbow, careful not to make too much noise. The rest of our group is completely passed out.
“Yeah,” I whisper back.
