feel uncomfortable, she’d admitted, but she always welcomed any questions he had.
Where did we usually climb? What were the conditions that morning? She was a real trouper about his inquiries, and he could see why they had become friends. She was also kind and exceedingly patient with him as far as the new computer system was concerned—well, new to him—which he was eternally grateful for.
“Yep. Have a good night,” he replied, turning toward the exit, then stopping in his tracks, remembering another question he had for her. There weren’t any customers in line, so maybe he could pick her brain for another minute. “Actually, is it okay to ask another question about…you know…?”
She smiled sadly. “Of course.”
He squared his shoulders, determined to put as many pieces together as he could. “Was I preoccupied that morning?”
Her eyes widened. “Rhys, you shouldn’t beat yourself up ab—”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” He made a frustrated sound. “It helps to create a picture for myself because otherwise everything is blank, and that doesn’t sit well either.”
“I get it. Um, let’s see…” She frowned. “Maybe a little? But you seemed happy. Like your life was going great and—ooh, I remember something else too. You needed to get back on Sunday because you said it was Emerson’s birthday and you all were celebrating.”
His breath caught in his throat. Fuck, Emerson’s birthday. He’d obviously never made it to that celebration. Emerson had turned twenty-two before him, and then all hell broke loose.
But Jill said he was happy. I was fucking happy, Emerson. Did you hear that? Maybe he was shell-shocked, and yeah, he’d run out the door when Audrey came into the room. Maybe he was terrified and did it all wrong, but goddamn it, he could feel it in his soul that he wanted to be with Emerson, would always want to be with him.
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” she replied, and then opened and closed her mouth a couple of times as if unsure if she should ask something. “Do you miss it?”
“Climbing?”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “You’ve been doing it for a couple of years, so you have other memories to rely on, right?”
He nodded. “They’re a bit cloudy, though. Like there’s this layer of fear blanketing them.” But he did remember how free it made him feel. And he definitely missed that feeling.
“Makes sense. Like your subconscious is telling you something.”
“Must be. I’m not really sure if I can do it again, at least not in the near future,” he admitted. “Like, what if it happens again?”
“I think I understand. But hey, take it easy for now.” She patted his shoulder. “After all, you’ve got the rest of your life.”
He did, didn’t he?
Besides, there were other things he was looking forward to, like future nature hikes and walks with Audrey. And it was the first clear night in a handful of days. If only his headache would go away.
“Hold up a minute, Rhys,” Martin said, just as he pushed the exit door. He was carrying a flyer and thrust it in his direction. “I wondered if you’d be interested in this new outdoor adventure group.”
His pulse throbbed. He certainly didn’t want to disappoint his boss. “I’m not sure if I’m up for scaling any—”
“It’s not climbing.” He motioned to the flyer. “It’s a new hiking group, for teens.”
Teens? That was a first.
“They’ll wear their Flying High shirts and meet at one of the nature trails every Sunday morning. You’re awesome with that age group.”
He was? It was like a jolt to his system, awakening a part of himself long forgotten. He’d even done an indoor wall-climbing demonstration for a few young enthusiasts before.
“Sounds like fun. Thanks for thinking of me.”
As he drove home, his stomach was unsettled, like it always was before seeing Emerson. But it used to be filled with butterflies flapping their colorful wings, and lately it was just monochrome moths unsure of what was to come. A cold shoulder or a rare smile.
Emerson made dinner with Audrey—the chicken recipe he’d shown them weeks ago. Emerson listened blankly while Sam chattered to him about school and a climate-change article he read about carbon emissions.
“Hey, Audrey,” Rhys said, pulling the flyer from his pocket and flattening it on the table. “Think you’d be interested in this with me?”
“What is it?” she asked, setting a side dish of broccoli in the center.
Rhys stabbed at a piece of chicken with his fork. “A hiking group for teens.”
Her eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Can I, Em?”
“Of