Page 21 of Entwined Hearts

I send Anya the occasional text, but I don’t want to bombard her, so I keep it simple. A joke now and then, or a quick hello. Has she realized how much of a prick Jake is yet? I wish I had a way to spend time with her, but spring roofing season is nonstop. Because I’ll be quitting to climb in Norway pretty soon, I can’t afford to blow off work.

Maybe things will go so well in Norway that I won’t need this job anymore. I can climb more, which would automatically bring my world and Anya’s closer together.

But that’s a tall order considering I’ll be climbing with Jake in Norway, too. How the fuck are we going to work together on something so complicated and dangerous? And with Anya there as the biggest distraction. That and my secret role.

The weeks pass. I babysit Maddy three nights a week so Paige can work, visit the climbing gym, train on the wall I built on the back of my house, and bounce from roof to roof while a rotating playlist of audiobooks play in my ears. But the Buttermilks date seems to only get farther away.

News of Scott’s deployment ending weighs on me. While it’s good he’ll be leaving the nightmare of a war zone, I’m not thrilled he’ll be able to visit soon. Will the Marines keep him in North Carolina or move him to a base closer to us? If I had my way, he’d get sent to the moon.

The Friday of the trip finally arrives, and I drive the short route up the valley to the campground. By the time I pull in, a party is in full swing. A half-a-dozen climbers—some I know, some I don’t—stand around a campfire talking. The picnic table is littered with cartons of Trader Joe’s snacks. Just outside of the fire’s glow, I can make out two yellow Marvik tents tucked into the underbrush and boulders.

I unpack my offering of beer into someone’s cooler, then scan the group until I spot Anya. She’s wearing a faded red tank top and dark jeans, and her blonde hair is pulled into a knot that shows off the delicate curve of her neck. A silver necklace flashes from between her collarbones along with a set of dangling earrings. How something so simple could make her look feminine, yet so strong, is a mystery.

When she sees me, her face softens. Suddenly, my stomach feels like I swallowed a family of snakes. I crack a beer, then step to the campfire.

Kabir claps me on the back. I try to let it ease the stress I feel in my muscles. “Glad you could make it,” he says.

It feels good to hear this—after being mostly MIA for three years, I wasn’t sure which of my friends would take me back.

“I gotta make sure you guys don’t trash the place,” I say, grinning.

“That’s right,” Kabir says, lifting a devilish eyebrow. “This is your old stomping grounds.”

The first thing I did when we moved home was an overnight trip here. Alone. Sure, I’d climbed off and on, mostly on artificial surfaces, but I was so out of shape, my fingers too soft, and my arms better suited for hammering than hanging from tiny holds. I almost quit for good.

“Hey,” Anya says, sliding over. I pull her into a soft hug. Her hair smells of field grass and vanilla. She’s small in my arms, but I can feel the muscles in her shoulders and back.

“How’s Bishop?” she asks, her eyes reflecting the glow of the campfire.

“Okay,” I say. “How’s Vegas?”

She shrugs. “It’s been a good base camp, but I’ll be leaving soon.”

“How’s that feel?” I ask.

She thoughtfully watches the fire. “Leave it to you to ask that question.”

“Sorry,” I say, kicking myself for souring a perfectly pleasant conversation.

“No, it’s okay.” She scrubs the dirt with the toe of her sandal.

“You want to take a walk?” I ask. “I know a place with a killer view.” My heart taps right into the base of my throat as these words leave my lips. I haven’t shown this place to anyone.

She regards me questioningly, but agrees.

After Anya grabs a sweatshirt and I snag two more beers, we set out, following the skinny trail through the scrub to the road. We start walking, the pebbly dirt cool under my bare feet.

“I wondered if you’d be barefoot,” she says, grinning. “How can you do it?”

I shrug. “I like feeling connected to the ground.”

“Even though the rocks are sharp? What about glass or cactus spines?”

“It makes me tough.”

A groan leaves her lips.

As soon as we’re away from the glow of the camp, the darkness envelops us.

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