Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
I was too busy trying to catch my breath on the walk back that none of us said anything then either, and I took the tiniest sips along the way, regretting like a motherfucker that I hadn’t brought more.
What felt like an hour later, something tapped my elbow.
I glanced back to find Mr. Rhodes just a few feet behind me, holding his big, stainless-steel water bottle toward me.
I blinked.
“I don’t want to have to drag you out when you start getting a pounding headache,” he explained, eyes locked on mine.
I only hesitated for a second before taking it; my throat was hurting and I was beginning to get a headache. I put it to my mouth and drank two big gulps—I wanted more, I wanted all of it, but I couldn’t be a greedy asshole—and handed it back. “I thought you finished yours too.”
He slid me a look. “I filled it back up at the last waterfall. I have a filter.”
I smiled at him a lot more shyly than I would have expected. “Thank you.”
He nodded. Then he called out, “Am! You need some water?”
“No.”
I looked at his dad, and the man just about rolled his eyes. At some point, he’d put a cap on his head too, just like his son, pulled low so I could barely see them. I hadn’t seen his jacket, but I’d bet he’d rolled it into his pack at some point.
“Will you drag him out too or would you carry him?” I joked quietly.
I was surprised when he said, “He’d get dragged too.”
I grinned and shook my head.
“He’s used to the altitude now. You’re not,” he said behind me, as if trying to explain why he’d offered me fluids. So I wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
I slowed down my walking, so he was closer before I asked, “Mr. Rhodes?”
He grunted, and I took that as my sign to ask my question.
“Does anyone ever call you Toby?”
There was a pause, then he asked, “What do you think?” in the closest thing I’d heard to a pissy tone.
I almost laughed. “No, I guess not.” I waited a second. “You definitely look like more of a Tobers,” I joked, glancing over my shoulder with a grin, but his attention was down on the ground. I thought I was hilarious. “Would you like a granola bar?”
“No.”
I shrugged and turned back forward. “Amos! You want a granola bar?”
He seemed to think about it for a second. “What kind?”
“Chocolate chip!”
He turned and held out his hand.
I tossed it at him.
Then I tipped my head up toward the sun, ignoring how tired my thighs were, and that I was starting to drag my feet because each step was getting harder and harder. I already knew I was going to be hurting tomorrow. Hell, I was already hurting. My boots hadn’t been broken in enough for this and my toes and ankles were sore and chafed. Tomorrow, I was more than likely barely going to be able to move.
But it was going to be worth it.
It was worth it.
And I said quietly, filling my lungs with the freshest air I’d ever smelled, “Mom, you would have liked this one. It was pretty amazing.” I wasn’t sure why this one hadn’t been in her notebook, but I was so glad I’d done it.
And before I could think twice about it, I jogged forward. Amos glanced over at me as I threw my arms around his shoulders, giving him a quick hug. He tensed but didn’t push me away in the one-second embrace. “Thank you for coming, Am.”
Just as quickly as I hugged him, I let him go and turned around to go straight for my next victim.
He was big and walking forward, his face serious. Like always. But in the blink of an eye, that rabies-raccoon expression was back.
I got shy.
Then I held up my hand for him in a high five instead of a hug.
He looked at my hand, then looked at my face, then back to my hand.
And like I was ripping out his nails instead of asking for a high five, he lifted his big hand and lightly tapped my palm with his.
And I told him quietly, meaning every word, “Thank you for coming.”
His voice was a steady, quiet rumble. “You’re welcome.”
I smiled the entire way back to the car.
Chapter Twelve
When Clara’s mouth dropped open at the sight of my face a few days later, I knew that the concealer I’d used on my bruises that morning hadn’t pulled off a miracle like I’d hoped.
I mean, yesterday I’d figured they were going to be awful, but I hadn’t anticipated they would be so bad.
Then again, I’d had a bat house fall right on my face so . . .
At least I hadn’t gotten a concussion, right?
“Ora, who did that to you?”