Page 21 of Love Never Happens with your Brother’s Best Friend

“Sure thing. Let me know where you are, and I’ll come pick you up.”

“Alright. Stay safe, okay?”

“Yup. You too.”

The crackly static of the radio and Dylan’s voice disappear. Nature noises take their place. Rita stashes the handset then turns to face the uphill track back to camp.

“After you, nature girl,” I say with a bright smile.

Rita rolls her eyes, sighs, and shakes her head. I can tell she’s trying to ignore me. But I think I’m beginning to wear down her defenses. There’s a slight curl of a smile at the corners of her mouth. She’s not as tough as she’s pretending to be.

Chapter 11

Rita

It’s not a huge surprise the family didn’t make it to the camp. Some people have this idea you can just get up and hike a trail one day without any preparation, when the only walking they’ve ever done is from the car to the mall and back. Like anything, physical or mental, you need to build up fitness and stamina over time. But I do feel sad for the family. The parents had good intentions. I hope the experience wasn’t so bad that it has put them off hiking forever.

As I zip the radio into its pocket in my pack, Brodie is smiling at me.

“After you, nature girl,” he says.

I try to ignore his cuteness. I shake my head and turn in the direction of the camp. But he’s still smiling.

“What?”

“Well. Here we are,” says Brodie with an upbeatness that rubs me up the wrong way. “On a mountain. On a lovely day.”

“Let’s head back to camp, shall we?” I skirt around him, hoisting my pack over my shoulder.

“Sure thing. You’re the boss. Lead on.”

It doesn’t take long to retrace our steps back to the campsite which is just as we’d left it, except now it’s late afternoon. The sun has disappeared behind the crag throwing the campsite into shadow.

“Do you want some tea?” I ask, dumping my pack in the shelter. “I’m going to boil some water. If you want some, you’re welcome.”

“Tea. Sure. Why not?” Brodie looks around. “I guess there’s no bar.”

Ignoring his smart-ass comment, I walk over to the tent and unzip the flap. Then I find my backpack and pull out a mini-fold-up stove, a pot, and a gas canister. Everything has its place in my backpack. I can find things without even looking.

With the sun gone, the temperature is cooling down fast, and soon insects will start biting. So, I pull on some leggings and a hoodie to cover up as much skin as possible. Then I find my bug spray and apply a generous squirt to my neck, hands, and ankles. It’s not Chanel No 5. It smells chemically strong and noxious. But it works well at repelling irritating insects. And super-star quarterbacks, I hope.

Why did I agree to camping out with Brodie? We could easily have packed up the tent and made it back to the car park before nightfall. But then, I do love this place. And its peaceful charm is only slightly marred by my brother’s best friend, who I had the biggest crush on and never really got over.

All these years later he still has a hold on my heart. I came back to a simple life in Oak River to avoid him. So, if I am trying to avoid Brodie Kent, how come I’m here, with him, alone on a mountain?

“That makes perfect sense, Rita Carmichael,” I mutter to myself as I carry the tea-making things back to the shelter.

I laugh at my less-than-sensible choices. It’s as if I am deliberately putting my heart at risk. For what? Do I enjoy emotional pain? Am I one of those saddos you hear about, who is so in love they can’t move on with their lives, like weird old Miss Havisham in that Charles Dickens story? All twisted and bent out of shape. I will not allow myself any opportunity to get close to Brodie. We may be out here in the wilderness but boundaries need to be adhered to, if I am going to make it back with my heart in one piece.

As I screw the gas canister onto the stove and set it up on the bench in the shelter, I remind myself that I am a grown-up and in charge out here. I will just treat Brodie as I would any other paying guest on one of Dylan’s hiking trips. I pour water into the pot and light the stove which roars with a hot blue flame. But my attention is caught by Brodie who is pacing around the campsite squinting at his phone.

“There really isn’t any coverage up here,” Brodie says holding the device above his head and pointing it in different directions. “I thought that was just what Dylan tells people, you know, to make them feel like they’re really in the wild.”

“No. There really is no phone coverage up here,” I say passing Brodie on my way back to the tent. “We really are in the wild.” I bend down to get tea bags and a mug, then stand up again. Brodie moves to the shelter and sits on the bench. He’s not smiling anymore but stares straight ahead. “Are you okay?” I call out.

“Yes. Yes. Phew. Yes.” Brodie says gripping the bench with both hands. “I suppose I am. It’s been a while since…” He pauses for a second. “You get used to being connected all the time so to be somewhere, like this… it’s…”

“Liberating? Life-affirming? Grounding?” I walk back to the shelter with my mug and tea bags. The water is beginning to boil.

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