“No, I don’t think I’m up to it.”
“You want to go back?” Grady asks, still crouching beside her.
“I think so. Slowly.” Taking his arm, Fiona maneuvers herself onto a nearby boulder. “But you guys don’t have to quit.” She looks over at me and Reeve. “You should keep going.”
“No way,” I tell her. “We’re not letting you off on your own — we have rules, remember?”
“I can go with her,” Grady says immediately. “You two finish the hike.”
“No, it’s OK,” I tell him. “We can all —”
“But you wanted the view!” Fiona insists. “You’re almost there. It would suck to turn back now.”
“I don’t mind. It’s . . .” Then I pause. She’s giving me a particularly meaningful look, but I can’t figure out what she wants. Unless . . .
Seriously?
I look from her to Grady and back again. He’s waiting, restless, by the boulder, while Fiona doesn’t seem to be in pain at all anymore. But she does seem pretty eager to head off down the trail with Grady. Alone.
And just like that, her recent thaw begins to make total sense. I bite my lip to hide my smile as I watch them awkwardly avoid eye contact. I hoped maybe that fight we had made a difference because, deep down, she cared about our feelings, but it turns out there’s one person whose feelings she definitely cares about: Grady’s. Just how long has this been going on?
“I’ll be fine,” Fiona says again, taking Grady’s arm and pulling herself to a standing position. She leans heavily against him, one of his arms around her shoulder. “Grady can take me home, and you and Reeve make it to the top. Right, Reeve?”
He looks at us all, clearly confused. “Sure, but I mean —”
“Then it’s settled,” Fiona declares. I swear I see a satisfied smile.
We split the packs and remaining water, and soon she and Grady are heading slowly back down the trail.
“I guess it’s down to us.”
I turn back to find Reeve waiting for me. “I guess so.”
By the time we clear the tree line and make it up the final stretch of trail, I’m dead. No, really. My limbs are practically numb with exhaustion, every breath is a chore, and I figure that the only way I’m still managing to put one heavy foot in front of the other is if I’ve died and this is my zombified self plodding along.
Man, I need to exercise more.
I’m so busy staring down at the path in front of me that I only realize we’ve reached the top when Reeve stops walking. I look up to find that we’re in a small clearing littered with shrubbery and grasses. Above us, there’s nothing but impassable rock all the way to the real summit, but on my left, the cliff falls away.
“There.” Reeve grins proudly. “Worth it, don’t you think?”
I look out across the valley. He’s right. For a moment, I can forget all my aches and pains. It’s utterly breathtaking. A dark green blanket of trees, gray mountains under the gray mist of cloud, even . . . “Is that snow?” I squint at the far mountain peaks.
Reeve gulps from his water bottle, then wipes the top with his shirt before passing it to me. He nods. “Some ranges never melt. The Rockies go too high; it doesn’t matter if it’s baking down in the valleys.”
“Wow.” I can’t believe how far the horizon stretches. I get out the camera and begin filming, shivering slightly.
“You need a sweater?” Reeve asks.
“Hmm? Oh, no, I’ve got one.” As I pull my cardigan on again, a small splatter of rain begins to fall. I turn my face up to the clouds, the water cool relief on my sweaty skin.
He looks around. “We better take cover for a while.”
I laugh. “It’s just a little rain.” At that, a boom of thunder rings over the valley. “Or not.”
“Come on.” Reeve points across to the far side of the clearing, where a small wooden hut is almost hidden in the trees.
“This is where you say ‘I told you so,’ right?” I joke, as we dash toward the shelter.
“Yup!” Reeve laughs. He waits for me to get inside before ducking in after me.
“Inside” is kind of an exaggeration, I find. The hut is nothing but a roof and three walls, perched back from the edge of the cliff. The ground is basic concrete, covered in dirt and a couple of food wrappers some other, less careful hikers must have left behind. Reeve kicks them aside and sits down against the back wall as the rain and winds howl away outside the open front.
I join him, gladly sliding off my feet. “Oh, my . . .” I sigh, loosening my boots. It’s no warmer in here, but at least the wind isn’t whipping around us. “What is this place?”
“Emergency shelter.” Reeve shifts to get comfortable on the hard ground. “All the peaks have them around here, for snowstorms mainly.”
“People climb these things in the snow?”
He chuckles. “I didn’t say it was a good idea.”
We sit in silence for a while, the rain thrumming steadily on the roof. The vista outside that had been so clear is now completely opaque. With the world shrouded in clouds outside, it feels like we’re the last two people left in the world. I rummage in my pack for an energy bar and wordlessly offer Reeve half. He takes it with a nod, and we sit, watching the rain fall in thick sheets. A flash of lightning streaks through the sky, with another rumble of thunder sounding out right away.
The storm must be on top of us.
“Are we safe in here?” I ask, nervous.
“Safer in here than out there,” he reassures me, but it’s only after a minute I realize that doesn’t quite answer my question. “Are you scared?”
“Of the storm? No.” I elbow him lightly. “I’m not that pathetic.”
Reeve gives me a brief smile. “Sorry.”
“I usually like them — storms, I mean. All the noise and wind . . .” I flinch as another flash of lightning illuminates the valley, and hug my arms tight around my body. “But I’m usually snug inside with four solid walls between me and all that out there.” As I talk, Reeve seems more distracted, looking outside at the pouring rain until finally, he cuts me off.
“Wait a sec. I need to check something out.” He stands, silhouetted in the open entrance for a moment, and then disappears back the way we came, toward the trail.