He reached across the aisle and unfisted my hand, stroking his thumb across the line of indentations my fingernails had made in my palm. “This documentary we’re making—we’re each going after one thing. This is mine. I’ve planned for this, trained for this, and am prepared for this.”
“How can you possibly be prepared for this when you’ve been on a cruise for the last three months?”
“In the last year I’ve spent time in the Denali, the Tetons, and the Alps. I’m not a stranger to free riding. You of all people know that.”
My eyes dropped from his, and I pulled my hand away, remembering why he hadn’t been around when I’d initially met Wilder. So many things would have been different if he’d been there to begin with. But I wasn’t thinking about that, because if I couldn’t move on from the past, it was going to kill any chance I had at the present.
That’s what I’d told myself the last two years, and it had worked well.
“You’re in shape?” I asked.
“Would you like to see?” he teased, his eyes taking on that mischievous glint that I’d always loved. Liked. No love.
“I’ll pass, but thanks.”
“I’ll just have to keep offering.”
“Can you please take this seriously?” I asked.
“I take everything about you seriously.”
“Not what I meant. Alex? Gabe? They’re good enough to go with you? You found a pilot willing to get you that high?”
The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Be careful. You keep asking those questions and I’m going to start to think that you care.”
God help me, I do care.
He sighed. “Yes, yes, and yes. If there were an issue about any of this, I wouldn’t do it. I might be a little reckless, but I’m not stupid.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“God, I’ve missed you.” The yearning in his voice echoed the little voice in my soul that I couldn’t keep gagged.
The aisle between us was too much space and not enough.
We were told to prepare for landing, our quick, half hour flight at an end. I shifted my attention to the ground below. The mountains rose above us, beautiful and just as ominous as the tiny runway carved into the side of the rock.
“Holy shit, is that the runway?” I asked, seeing a small strip of pavement beneath us. It was the shortest one I’d ever seen.
“That thing is wicked!” Gabe yelled from the row ahead of us.
“Fuck me,” Paxton said.
“I totally forgot you weren’t a fan of flying,” I called up toward Wilder.
“It’s actually one of the most dangerous runways in the world,” Landon told Gabe. “It’s not just the altitude, but the runway runs right into the mountain if we don’t stop in time.”
“Not helping!” Leah barked at Landon.
He just laughed.
I looked forward and saw Leah taking Wilder’s hand. Landon offered his, and I rolled my eyes. “It takes more than a landing to scare me.”
He shook his head with a grin, and I clutched my armrests until we landed.
“Welcome to Lukla,” the captain said as we taxied to a stop.
“Nine thousand feet,” Landon said.
“Twelve more to go,” I answered.
“That’s my girl, always looking up.” He paled the second it was out of his mouth, and his eyes flew wide.
I needed to get away from him. Now. Grabbing my backpack, I stood, thankful the aisle had cleared and it was my turn to get off the plane. “Yeah, well, that girl learned that you have to look down. It does you no good to keep your eye on the sky if no one is waiting for you when you fall.”
“Rachel…”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I retreated—ran away.
Checking in to our little hotel, I chose the room farthest from his.
At dinner, I sat at the other end of the table.
At night, I locked my door.
But how was I supposed to lock my heart?
…
“Do I need to find you a teapot?” Leah asked the next morning, sitting down next to me in a small courtyard outside our hotel. The morning was clear and crisp, in the low fifties. It would only get colder as we headed up to today’s higher elevations. Base camp ran around freezing this time of year. I leaned against my pack, mentally preparing myself for the day. The pavement beneath our feet was made of broken cobblestones, and the colored flags waving above our heads had the same vibrancy as the blanket we rested on, the same as the temple we’d visited yesterday. I’d taken hundreds of pictures, tried to absorb every detail about the small village that was the gateway to Everest.
“I do not need a teapot,” I promised. “Besides, we agreed that those were for after we got through hot water. I’m still steeping in mine.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and curled her legs under her. “I bought you one in Istanbul. Figured it would be for having to stay behind when you got sick. But I think this might be more appropriate.”
I really looked at my best friend, the healthy color to her cheeks, the smile she was quick to show, the fact that she only had her legs covered because it was fifty degrees up here and not because she was scared of what anyone thought of her scars. It had taken a lot of teapots to get her here—too many times I wasn’t sure she was going to pull free of the depression that had held her under when her high school boyfriend died.