Something Wilder(26)
Before she even registered she’d moved, Lily was up, jogging toward the tents just as Terry yelled back, “Taking a fucking leak, princess!”
Lily paused, relaxing in relief before rounding a small grouping of rocks to reach the tent circle. In the shadows, Terry stood between his and Nic’s tents, with his pants slung low on his hips and his—
“Oh God!” She quickly looked away.
“This fool was pissing on the side of my tent,” Nic seethed, pointing to where Terry stood with his dick in his hand. “Are you out of your damn mind? Pull your pants up!”
“It’s late,” Terry reminded her snidely. “You told us not to wander away in the dark, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but you can take ten goddamn steps to pee!”
Deciding this wasn’t a crisis that required both of them, Lily moved away, pulling in a deep breath. She felt whiplashed. On her left was Terry being Terry; on her right lingered the emotional contrails of her bombshell conversation with Leo.
Counting to three, she let the adrenaline clear from her blood. But it was slow to diffuse, and even after several deep breaths, her fingers shook; she still felt unsteady. The truth was all settling in now. She thought he’d left to help his mother recover from a broken leg, maybe a concussion. In Lily’s world, people got injured all the time, but when she was young, no one she’d known had ever died from an accident. It’d never crossed her mind that when Leo had gone home, everything might have been so much more terrible than they’d understood. She’d seen herself as the wounded party for so long, but now had the nauseating realization that they were all simply the victims of shitty circumstances.
Leo stood nearby, an unspeaking and unmoving presence. She could turn around and go back to her spot next to the fire and answer the enormous question he’d just posed: Whatever happened with Duke? But an even larger part of her knew they could have the conversation and it wouldn’t matter. The truth about tragedy was that once it struck, nothing on this wide green earth could make it any better. Leo had been her spark, had brought a glimpse of love and laughter and security into her life, but his departure had only proven what she’d already known: good things don’t stick around.
The air away from the fire was cool and dry, and when Lily looked over her shoulder at him, she saw in his eyes that he knew it, too: their moment had passed.
He smiled, releasing her. “Sleep well, Lily.”
Chapter Ten
NOT EVEN SEVEN days a week of the toughest Tabata class at the Upper East Side Equinox could have prepared Leo for the pain that greeted him every morning of this trip. By their fourth day, it was slightly easier, but that first step out of the tent remained excruciating. For the first twenty minutes every day, he could barely walk, and it wasn’t just a sore ass and legs and back; even taking a deep breath was painful. Bending to spit out his toothpaste caused a frantic spasm in his side. He wasn’t sure whether he should blame the cold, the dry air, the hours on a horse, or the nights spent sleeping on the ground, but he woke up feeling like he’d aged a decade.
Two full days had passed since he and Lily had talked at the campfire, and she was doing her best to avoid him. Sure, she’d asked him if he wanted more potato salad at lunch and told him to stop letting Ace graze along the trail as they rode, but they hadn’t talked about anything meaningful since—had never returned to the subject of whether she and her dad ever reconciled. It felt like a code half-cracked.
From near a small cluster of rocks where Nicole had fashioned a makeshift hand-washing station—a jug of fresh water, soap, a couple of clean hand towels—Leo looked out at the slowly brightening morning, at the spires of rock crowded together in the distance. They’d passed a few signs of civilization over the last few days—the occasional piece of trash, a broken bike tire or marker along the trail—but it was easy to see how isolated they’d become, even a few miles out. This was desolate terrain, but breathtaking, alternating between flat sandy ground, steep drop-offs, and towers of carrot-colored rock faces. Wiry thickets of sage-green scrub grew thick and lush where the ground had been carved away and water collected. Spindly trees showed the persistence of life, finding purchase wherever they could. The sunrise hit the red rock from every angle, illuminating the landscape in startling shades of tangerine, rust, crimson, and wine. In a couple of hours, the sky would be almost startlingly blue. Already it was intensely bright, the air so parched his eyes itched.
With the soft nickering of horses and the smell of camp smoke filling the air, Leo could almost imagine cowboys thundering through this passage, the dust and cacophony of herds of cattle and horses.
Until a grunt rose from the ground, and Leo glanced down to see Walter half in and half out of his tent, shirt bunched up around his ribs, face pressed to the red dirt.
Leo dropped his toothbrush back into his toiletry bag. “Hey, Walt.”
He looked up at Leo, eyes droopy and pitiful. “My ass is crying.”
And Leo’s spine felt welded in place. “It took me ten minutes to get my shirt on.”
“Will I ever sit like a normal person again?” Walt asked, voice thin. “I don’t even remember how it feels to approach a chair without dread.”
Wincing, Leo slowly bent to help his friend up. “I’d like to take off my own back and beat Bradley with it.” Together they hobbled their way toward the fire.