Wild Like Us (Like Us 8)

“Look up.”

120-feet in the air, my dad is sitting at the top of the rock, his legs dangling over the crag.

“I thought you wanted to climb together?” I frown, confused.

“Meet me up here.”

“But I’ve already free-soloed this one a bunch.” Winona and I would practice at this quarry all the time. It’s one of the easier rock faces.

“This will be different,” my dad tells me. “I fucking promise.”

* * *

He’s right. Everything is different about this free-solo climb. I’m stronger after weeks of training on a harder rock face. But that’s not why I move in breathless, light strides. It feels automatic, like I’m here but not here. I just go.

On the hardest portion of the rock, I’m supporting myself with just two fingers. My feet find good leverage in a crack, and then I continue on. The last ten feet is a breeze.

I’m barely breaking a sweat by the time I hike a leg over the edge and find firm solid ground again. I don’t move from my knees, and the intensity of those one-hundred-and-twenty feet just annihilates me. Because I look up and I see him.

My dad. Scruffy, weather-beaten face. Hardened jaw and eyes, the most loving dad I could’ve ever asked for.

The person I’ve wanted to connect to all this time. He’s on his feet now and watches me with this heavy understanding.

I sit. “Why did that feel so different?” I ask him.

He squats down beside me. “This has always been my favorite rock to fucking climb.” He takes a beat. “Because I would climb it with Adam Sully. I’d meet him at the top.” He puts a hand on my knee. “Climbing can be lonely, Sul. The best climbs aren’t.”

My chest rises in a deeper inhale. I hated the climb in Yellowstone, but I loved this. I needed this. “Thanks,” I tell him. “It feels complete now.”

He touches the top of my head. “No more climbing my routes?” The joy in his voice is palpable.

I laugh. “Don’t sound too upset.”

“I just want you to be happy, Sulli,” he says. “That’s all I’ve ever fucking wanted since you were born.”

I think about how different my life is from when I left. He hasn’t exactly asked about my love life, and parts of me just wish he would, so I can tell him. Even though his reaction is the one I fear the most. His approval means everything to me, especially when I know I’m going to combat a lot of harsher judgment from the world.

I want to believe he’d like Akara and Banks with me, but I can’t know for certain. I’m still his daughter, and he’s still fiercely fucking protective. He might flip his shit if he knows I’m with not one but two bodyguards.

I end up saying the truth. Even if it’s not all of it.

“I am happy. Really fucking happy.”

We hug.

And then we descend.

Once back on the ground, we remove our rappelling gear and Akara and Banks approach from their spots. My dad carefully winds up a rope.

“Sir,” Banks says easily.

“Hi, Banks,” he nods, friendly enough. “Akara.”

“Hey,” Akara says.

A weird silence stretches, and my dad frowns for a second, eyeing us. He can sense something’s off. Because it definitely is. I want to lean into Banks’ chest. I want to grab Akara’s hand. And each second the three of us are here alone with my dad, it feels like I’m keeping a lie.

Feel the moment.

I’ve got this.

“Dad,” I say. “I have something to tell you.”

I edge closer to Akara and Banks until I’m standing between my dad and my boyfriends like a referee in a coin toss.

My dad’s confusion builds as he glances from them to me.

I take a breath. “So, Dad, I’d like you to meet my boyfriends. Akara Kitsuwon and Banks Moretti.”

I almost want to shut my eyes to avoid his reaction.

But I can’t.

My eyes are wide fucking open.