Page 14 of Entwined Hearts

“Anya?” Colby’s voice says from the sliding glass door. “I thought you’d gone home.”

“I was just going to give her a ride,” Jo says, lifting a calico-fabric satchel from a hook on the wall.

“I’ll do it,” Colby says.

“Oh,” Jo says, eyeing me as if asking for permission.

“Where’s Sabrina?” I ask.

“Roommate drama. I took her home,” Colby replies.

I frown, trying to figure out the rest of the story.

“I had to come back. Kabir promised to show me his yogurt maker,” Colby says as if reading my mind.

“Fuuuck you,” Kabir says with a grin, closing the screen door behind him.

Colby smiles. “Ready when you are,” he says.

Like so many climbers, Colby’s vehicle doubles as a gear garage and sleeping quarters. It’s a dark blue truck with bug splatters on the grill, climbing stickers on the back window, a plywood bed set up in the covered canopy. I’m sure there are Tupperware bins below it full of camping and climbing gear. People outside the climbing community often think we’re poor or homeless—and yeah, that’s usually true—but we live this way because we want to. It’s not glamorous by any means, but it provides the freedom we need to do what we love.

The truck’s engine purrs to life, and Colby pulls away from the curb.

I can’t help wondering if Jake will be gone when I get home, and what I’ll do if he’s not.

“I feel like an ass for picking on your boyfriend tonight. I’m sorry,” Colby says after a while.

“He’s…not my boyfriend,” I say, tasting the bitterness in my words.

Colby gives me a confused look. “I thought…aren’t you together?”

“Not anymore.”

“Oh shit,” Colby says, running a hand through his thick hair. “Jeez, Anya, I’m sorry.”

I look out the window as an ache weaves through my chest.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I should never have said that.”

“About committing?” I ask, picking at a ragged edge on my index finger.I really tore my skin up tonight.“Looks like you were right.”

He shakes his head, grimacing.

“It’s not your fault.” I let my battered hands drop into my lap. “He’d been planning this.”

Colby turns onto a broad boulevard. “You want to talk about it?” he asks, catching my gaze.

“He might be there when we get home,” I say instead of answering.

“It’s your house, right?” he asks, an edge to his voice.

The breeze sifting into the cab smells of hot concrete. “Jake said he’ll still do the Norway climb.”

“I wasn’t thinking about Norway right then.”

“Then what were you thinking about?” I ask, not sure why I sound so angry. Colby’s done nothing to deserve my frustration.

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way. Jake’s an incredible climber. His technique is flawless and he’s everyone’s hero on the wall, but he’s an asshole.” He glances my way. “That he left you at the party after breaking up with you is only one example.”

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