Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(45)

It’s hard to joke around when you’re overcome with foreign emotion. I squeeze his shoulder.

He pats my back and then nods to the cake. “This half is mine by the way. You can take the itchy piece.” He uses a plastic fork to cut the cake in two.

We eat quietly at first, staring out at the expansive view of the quarry. I can hear a guy scream in terror and excitement as he jumps off one of the jagged cliffs, splashing into the water below.

After the long moment of silence, he says, “You didn’t ask for your time.”

I know it’s shorter. I could feel it the moment I had thirty feet left. “Six minutes flat?” I ask him.

He shakes his head with a smile. “Five forty.”

“Damn.” That’s really f*cking good. I look back out at the tree tops. My progress, my journey—from being a curious six-year-old, to a punk teenager, to a determined adult—it just flashed quickly before my eyes. I think that’s what Sully had intended to happen all along.

“So you’re probably wondering why did Sully bring me to the top of this cliff and serve me cake?”

“Not really,” I tell him.

He smiles. “Besides your foul-mouth and that intimidating scowl thing you do, you’re probably the nicest person I’ve ever met. And I’ve been around for twenty-five years.” He laughs. “In climber life span, that’s a long ass time. I’ve already neared my halfway-point.”

I grab his water bottle and take a swig. I wipe my mouth on my shirt sleeve. “I’m only nice to you because you carry my gear when we climb together, and you’re the lead. If I anger you, you can turn around and cut my f*cking rope.”

He snorts. “Right. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Why?” I ask, seriously this time. “You’re always the one protecting me from a f*cking fall.”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty positive I’m the only person who has that job when it comes to you, climbing, not climbing, doesn’t matter. I know you’ve been going through some heavy shit with your brother, and you still make time for other people and this sport.” He means I make time to meet up with him.

I nod. “Yeah,” I say, not knowing how else to respond.

“I remember you telling me that you had a brother when we were in Lancaster.” He shakes his head. “That seems like such a long time ago.”

My gaze darkens, recalling that day. I was too angry to climb, and it was one of the few times I opened up to him about my family. I didn’t civilly talk about it. I yelled. And the only person who ever heard the pain in my voice was a summer camp friend. “I called him a f*cking bastard.”

Sully gives me a look. “We were fifteen. You were pissed.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It’s what you do later that matters. Making mistakes and correcting them, that’s life.”

“We make a mistake on a mountain, Sul, and we die.”

“Here I am, being all metaphorical, and you have to go and be all literal.” He shakes his head at me with mock disapproval. He lifts the cake, acting like he may smash it my face. And just like that, we let the heavy shit go. Our friendship is the easiest one I’ve ever had.

“You do that, Sully, and I’ll push you off this f*cking mountain.” We’re sitting on the edge, and if we start hitting each other, we could go over quickly.

“I was just going to tell you to take this back to Daisy.” He dips his finger back in the icing and licks it off. “I’ve never seen a girl melt over cake like she did.”

I took her to the gym to teach her how to rock climb, and Sully was there, instructing two ten-year-olds. I could never do his job full-time. I have a harsh way of speaking when people aren’t giving a hundred f*cking percent, but that shouldn’t come as a surprise. He went with us to a café after his shift, and she ate three pieces of cake, all chocolate.

“She’s not in Philly,” I tell him. He doesn’t keep up with the gossip, so he wouldn’t know that she’s left for Fashion Week. “And she hasn’t eaten sweets in practically a month. She’d probably f*cking drool if you put cake in her face.”

“Aww,” he says. “Poor girl. Where is she?”

“Modeling in Paris.”

He whistles. “She’s always all over the place, isn’t she?” He gives me another look, this time with a growing smile.

“What?” I snap.

He shrugs. “You two have a little thing. Not as cute as what Heidi and I have, but you know, you’ll get there.”

“We don’t have a thing,” I tell him.

He ignores me. “Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding, okay? I don’t have to be a groomsman or anything, but I do expect to be in the wedding pictures. I’m not against photo-bombing either.”

“Fuck off,” I say.

He touches his heart. “I love you too.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and check the caller ID.

DAISY CALLOWAY.

Sully looks over my shoulder. “Think she heard us talking about her?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Your voice is louder than mine,” he refutes, knowing where I was going with that.

“I have to take this.”