a leak. I was waiting for him when he returned, far enough away from Christie that she couldn’t hear.
“You should tell her,” I said.
Riley flinched when he realized what I meant.
“It’s too late. Too much time has gone on.”
“It’ll only get worse if you wait even longer,” I insisted. “Things are getting serious. You can’t keep a secret that big from her any more.”
“Watch me,” he said stubbornly. “We can keep doing what we’re doing and Christie will never find out.”
“Is that how you want this relationship to progress? Secrets and lies?”
“We don’t even know if this is a relationship,” he hissed. “For all I know she’ll choose Logan as soon as the fundraiser’s over and dump both of us.”
I shook my head. “You and I both know that’s not true. We have something real here, Riley. We’ve avoided talking about it, but it’s the truth. If you won’t tell her…”
“What?” he demanded. “You’ll tell her for me?”
“I might.”
The threat hung in the air between us, creating a chasm as wide as the canyon itself.
Then Christie cursed. “What the hell!”
We walked back up the trail to where she was standing, phone against her ear. She paced back and forth while grumbling to herself.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Happy Bones checks are bouncing. And before you laugh, we’ve had to use checks for all our big purchases because the banking information still hasn’t been transferred over. I’m trying to call Bonny back but I can’t get a damn signal now…”
“It fluctuates out here,” Riley said. He glanced at me. “You’ll get enough signal to download a voicemail, but not enough to place a call.”
I put a hand on her arm reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“It has to be!” Riley agreed. “How would the bank account be empty? We’ve been depositing all our fundraising amounts consistently.”
“You should have tens of thousands of dollars in there,” I added. But there was a sinking feeling growing in my stomach. A bounced check wasn’t a mistake. If the bank was claiming there wasn’t money in the account…
Christie shoved the phone in her pocket angrily. “I need to get to the top as soon as possible. Let’s go.”
She readied her hiking poles and began trudging up the canyon. Riley and I shared another look before following.
It was like Christie had gotten a second wind. Now that she was motivated she practically flew up the trail with long strides. I didn’t think she would be able to keep it up very long, but after five minutes she showed no sign of slowing down.
“Let’s take it easy,” Riley said behind me. “You’re matching the pace we usually set when we’re by ourselves.”
Christie ignored us and kept moving.
Up the canyon we hiked while the winter sun drifted across the sky. It was nice to admire Christie’s body as she led the way, but I was too concerned to enjoy it. Her breathing was rapid and raspy, but she wasn’t slowing down. Despite using the hiking poles she was beginning to lean forward as she moved, which was a sign of exhaustion.
I glanced at my Garmin GPS watch. Our moving pace had gone from thirty minutes per mile down to nineteen. That was insanely fast for an amateur. Unsustainable.
I shot Riley a look. He nodded in agreement.
“This looks like a good place to rest,” I called out. I jogged a few steps ahead of Christie and blocked her path. “Quick break for water and snacks.”
Having something physically in front of her was the only thing that made her stop. She nodded and plopped down on the nearest rock. Sweat covered her face even though it was only forty-four degrees out. A little bit of sweat was normal while hiking uphill, but this was excessive. Especially considering how dry the air was. Her body temperature was going to plummet if we weren’t careful.
We forced her to eat some trail mix. She checked her phone again and cursed at the lack of signal. She stared off at the canyon, looking at the view without really seeing. She was lost in thought.
“Come on,” she said when she had caught her breath. “Let’s keep going.”
“Are you sure?” Riley asked. “You probably need more calories before—”
“I said I’m fine.” She slid past him and continued hiking, forcing us to follow.
The last half-mile of the South Kaibab Trail was the steepest, and Christie struggled. Her steps shortened and she leaned her weight on the hiking poles. Each breath was a wheezing gasp. She was limping a