Page 68 of Entwined Hearts

“If you want to be reckless, fine,” he says. “But don’t expect me to put my life on the line when your head’s not in the game.”

My heart thumps so hard into my temples that my ears pop. Am I being reckless and putting him at risk? Or is this an elaborate form of jealousy?

“I find this all extremely interesting,” I say in a measured tone. It takes every ounce of control I can muster to sound calm. “You giving me relationship advice and telling meI’mtoo obsessed.” I huff a long sigh. “You’re obsessed all the time.” How dare he accuse me of the same thing?

My mind goes to the way Colby kissed down my body. The way his words sparked a hunger from somewhere deep inside me. Is Colby the kind of person who sleeps with someone else’s girlfriend? Is he sleeping with someone else right now?

Jake breathes deep. On his exhale, he relaxes his shoulders. I can almost see the gears shifting in his mind. “Maybe, but my intentions are pure.”

“So are mine,” I say.

“Good.” He completes a safety check of our system. “But if I see otherwise, I’ll shut everything down. Widow’s Walk is only the start.” He means it, too.

I swallow hard. I get what he’s saying, and it’s terrifying.

Jake’s focus turns to the rock. “Climbing.”

“Climb,” I reply.

We spend the next three days working through the various pitches that need practicing. Rising at dawn, hiking to the wall, and either climbing up or rappelling down. It’s as if Jake never mentioned Emmaline or his threat because he’s a model partner. Patient, focused, supportive. Though it’s like our connection, the friendship I thought we could still share has been compromised. I try to use the time to show him that I’m not reckless, that I can tuck away my emotions just as expertly as he can.

But it’s not ideal. When I’m climbing, everything falls away, but when I’m belaying, hiking, or trying to sleep, my thoughts burst to life, doing cartwheel after cartwheel. Who is Emmaline? Is Colby sleeping with someone else? Will he even show on Friday? And the biggest one—am I being reckless? What if I am putting the people I care about at risk?

In camp, I reconnect with old friends. By now, everyone’s heard Jake and I aren’t together. Nobody mentions Colby, and I wonder how wildly the tongues will wag once he shows up.

Ifhe shows up.

There’s no cell service inside the campground, so I can’t even call Colby. I’d have to drive to the public library in town, and I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s like I don’t want to know if he’s going to meet me or not.

So I don’t think about it. I practice the moves of the pitches we’ve practiced in my head. I stretch, eat a clean diet, pack and repack for Widow’s, and listen to my pre-climb playlist.

On Friday, Jake and I take a rest day to organize our gear one last time, double-check our lists, and review each section of the climb. I know my body needs to rest, but I’m too keyed up to lay in a hammock all day. I’m on pins and needles waiting for Colby to show, then for my four AM alarm so we can begin.

I drive to town, looking for any distraction. I do a load of laundry at the laundromat. Although I already brought everything I need for Widow’s Walk, I shop for more food. Will Colby arrive in time for dinner? I go to a movie, freezing in the overly chilled room. While the action distracts me, the adrenaline dumped in my bloodstream during the final chase scene fries my nerves. After, I return to the laundromat, staring at the load in the dryer. It cycles around and around, just like my heart.

Didn’t Colby meet Sabrina in a laundromat? My navel quivers at the idea of him with her right now.

I honestly didn’t remember her name until you said it, Colby had said under the freeway that night.

Was he lying?

By early evening, there’s still no word from Colby. My stomach churns like I’m nearing the top of a roller coaster, about to tip over the edge. I should just text him and ask if he’s coming. But every time I start to type, I end up erasing it. Everything I say sounds needy. Whiny. I’m afraid of his answer. Worse, I’m terrified ofnoresponse. So after I return to the campsite, I try to sketch, flipping through older patterns for inspiration, but my creativity is flatlined. I go for a walk and check in one last time with Jake, but he’s in his pre-climb mode of total focus and doesn’t want company. I’m used to it, but it still tugs at the jagged edge of our damaged friendship.

I return to my campsite. Prepare a simple dinner, deciding to make extra.

The fear Colby’s not coming starts to sear like a blowtorch inside my chest. What will I do if he doesn’t?

I try to rise above it. Tomorrow is important. I have to arrive at our trailhead focused, with an uncluttered mind. But I realize I’ll be a mess if Colby doesn’t show.

Damn him for putting me in this position.

I should never have let this happen.

I bury my face in my hands, trying to close out the dangerous thoughts spinning through my mind. Round and round like my laundry.

I eat alone, huddled in my thick puffy coat and woolies at my picnic table. I force one bite, then the next, not tasting it, knowing if I don’t eat, my stomach will growl all night. If I don’t sleep well, I won’t be ready for the morning.

Darkness takes over the valley quickly, the way it always does, as if twilight has some special permission here to hold on longer than anywhere else before turning completely black. It happens even more dramatically up on the wall. One minute, I’m fumbling to set up my porta-ledge with fatigued fingers. The next, I can’t see my hand in front of my face.

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