Page 24 of Christmas at Hart's Ridge

For the very good reason that I put a tracker on his phone. But Bethany would one hundred percent rat me out to Ethan, so I kept that information to myself.

“Everyone needs someone to look out for them, Bethany. It’s not a bad thing.”

“Hmm.” She shot a look at me over her shoulder. “Who looks out for you?”

I grinned easily, refusing to let the question penetrate too deeply. “Haven’t found any takers yet. Why? You interested in the position?”

Her cheeks, already pink from cold, turned a deeper red. She wrinkled her nose. “No, thanks. But I’ll put the word out that you’re looking. Women will be lined up around the block.” She flipped her braid over her shoulder and increased her pace.

My grin widened. “Don’t be jealous, Red. I’ll let you cut to the front of the line if you ask nicely.”

She snorted derisively and I didn’t think it was my imagination that her braid bounced a little harder as she walked.

Maybe I would have said something else snarky, just to see what she would say about it, but we started our final push to the summit and that took all of my concentration. It was straight uphill and more slippery than the trail had been in the forest. Bethany leaned into it, pushing out that tight little ass of hers. Screw the mountains, this was the best view I’d ever seen.

We were both out of breath when we reached the top. For a moment, neither of us said anything as we took in the view, panting. I had seen it before, but it never got old. Endless layers of mountain ridges in shades of blue and frosted white.

“Wow,” Bethany said finally, her voice barely more than an awed whisper.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

We were silent another moment, and then she said, “So this is, what, a quarter of the way from Georgia to Maine?”

“Sounds about right.”

“That means by the time you get here next year, it will be early May, probably. Springtime. When you stand here, you will have hiked every day for a month, carrying fifty pounds on your back, and you’ll still have four months or so to go.” She shook her head slowly, like she couldn’t completely wrap her mind around it. “Wow,” she said again.

I looked at her, gazing out over the mountains. Her eyes were bright and wide, her cheeks flushed from cold and exertion. There was something in her expression I couldn’t name. Almost wistful, but bolder somehow.

“It never occurred to me that backpacking the AT was something that people really and truly did. Like, just ordinary people. It’s such a big thing. Such an accomplishment. But it only takes five months and then you’re back to your normal life. Or some other big thing.” She squinted against the harsh sunlight. “I just…wow.” She sighed heavily.

I didn’t know what to make of that. The sigh.

“Ballet is a big accomplishment,” I said. “The way you do it, dancing for hundreds of thousands of people? That’s huge.”

“Yeah, it’s huge,” she agreed. “So huge that there’s no space for any other big accomplishment. Or even anything small, really. That’s how it is for me, anyway. Some people can manage having a life outside of ballet, but I can’t. It takes everything I have to give.”

She didn’t seem entirely happy about that. I squinted at her, surprised. “You regret it?”

“No. I don’t regret any of the decisions or the sacrifices I made to get where I am. I just don’t know if I want to keep making them to stay here.” She rolled her bottom lip under her teeth. “It hits different now, somehow. For the first time, I feel unsure.”

She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then wiggled her shoulders, like she was releasing a heavy weight with her breath. She looked at me. “I’ve never said that out loud before.”

“Not even to Ethan?” I asked.

“Not to anyone.”

I felt some kind of way about that. Special. Proprietary. Like she had given me a piece of herself for safe keeping.

I was used to people talking through their shit with me, use me as a sounding board for their innermost thoughts and secrets. I didn’t mind. I liked it, actually. But it felt different with Bethany. It mattered more. I wasn’t merely curious about what she was going to do about all this. I truly cared. A lot.

And suddenly I realized what her expression was, as she gazed out onto the mountains, imagining me walking through them.

It was envy.

Chapter 9

Bethany

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