Page 35 of The Darkest Parts of Me

However, not even that could distract me from this first, beautiful morning out in the wilderness. It’s been years since I last went camping, and I forgot how special it is, waking up in peaceful nature. I love the cold, early morning air hitting my cheeks, the crisp air filling my lungs. Last night, we made camp near a grove of trees with bright-yellow leaves, and the first sun rays illuminate them so much that it looks like they will catch fire.

“Beautiful,” Tasha says, coming to stand next to me.

“Yeah, you definitely weren’t exaggerating about this part of the retreat.”

Someone whistles loudly, and we turn to find one of the guides calling us over now that the rest of the group is ready to go.

“Ready for another day of fun?” Tasha asks with a hopeful smile.

“Not sure if I’d call it fun,” I say, giving her a look.

“So far, it’s nothing like I thought, but I’m still enjoying it. You know what I mean?” she asks, and we make our way over to the group where I see Renn shrugging on his backpack now that the not-so-helpless women are packed up.

“Yeah, I do,” I say just as Renn catches me looking at him and gives me a wink.

My right knee and thigh start to ache with the constant incline about two miles after we stop for lunch. The left is managing it well enough, but the right—it hurts more and more with each step. The pain is unwelcome, but not unexpected. My right leg was injured worse than the left and didn’t recover quite as well. At first, I hold back the groans and winces of pain, but soon, the release is the only thing that keeps me pushing forward.

“Mave, we can stop. It’s not a big deal,” Tasha says.

“No. If I stop, then I might not be able to get going again. The momentum helps.”

She’s unconvinced, cringing at the sound that escapes my mouth with the next step I take.

I sigh heavily in defeat. “Okay, fine. But just for a minute.”

We step aside, letting people pass, and I pull out the bottle of pain relievers from my pack. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to resort to them, but right now, I’m beyond glad with my decision to bring them. I ignore Tasha’s worried look, pouring a couple into my palm and plopping them into my mouth.

People continue to pass us, some offering encouraging looks, others with sympathy, and both annoy me. I know people are trying to be nice, but it just makes me frustrated. We still have the rest of today and most of tomorrow before we reach the summit. The frustration spirals through me, and I hate myself for it, that I can’t hold on just a little bit longer—that I’ll let the broken part in me win again and again. I begin to wonder if coming back to Solitude Ridge was perhaps the worst decision I’ve made since the day my dad died, and the only thought in my mind is that I should have never come back.

What if I can’t make it? I’ll probably have to be carried down the mountain. Will Renn carry me like he did Talla? That thought makes my cheeks warm just in time to see that Renn is about to pass. I keep my head down, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes. I can handle anyone but him.

“Hey, guys. You good?”

I look up, meeting his cool, gray eyes, and I’m surprised by what I find. It’s not pity—it’s something else that I can’t place. And then I notice he’s holding what looks like a small, metal container.

He follows my gaze as he says, “I . . .” He clears his throat, almost as if he’s nervous. “I noticed that your leg was bothering you.” My cheeks flush again with embarrassment, but he offers an encouraging smile. “I have something that may help.” He holds out the container. It doesn’t have a label or any indication of what it is, so I look up at him, confused. “It’s an ointment for injuries.”

I glance over at Tasha, and she bites her lip, trying not to say something. I know whatever it is she wants to say would have my cheeks flushing redder.

“So, it’s a numbing cream of some kind?” I ask.

He licks his bottom lip. “Yeah, something like that.” I give him a skeptical look because I’ve tried other pain relief methods over the years and they’ve never done much. He picks up on my doubt and adds, “Trust me, you’ve never tried this before.”

I curiously eye the container. “How do you know?” I ask.

He chuckles lightly. “Because it’s very special.”

“And you have it because . . . ?” I ask, squinting my eyes, head cocked.

“Isn’t that already obvious? I’m special, hence the special ointment,” he says, followed by a wide grin, like that alone can convince anyone of anything. To his credit, it does help a little bit. I’m suddenly at a loss for words, and I don’t know if it’s because of what he’s offering, or because I’m worried about my knee. My eyes sting for a moment, unwanted tears brimming. I’m on the brink, my tears waiting for me to crack—the crack that is becoming deeper as I realize there’s a chance that I’m physically too weak to make it through this retreat. But Renn’s act of kindness is so pure that it lights a little spark of hope in me. I take a deep breath and look back at Renn, golden sunlight catching the edges of his frame, and I feel like I can read everything there in his eyes.

I don’t want to see you hurting. I know this isn’t much, but I want to help.

He makes everything better—he makes everything okay. Bearable.

“Or I can carry you, if that’s what you prefer,” he says, his grin somehow brighter than his eyes, and I can’t resist the smile that appears on my face. Tasha covers her mouth, trying to suppress the giggle that wants to slip out.

“As nice as it would be to have my own pack mule”—he chuckles—“I’ll try the ointment,” I say.

---