After breakfast, Nova is quite enthusiastic about helping me pack up. Gee, I wonder why?

Setting out from camp, our path meanders along Holcomb Creek for a few miles under the shade of alder trees. We pass through more chaparral, then reach a series of switchbacks that lead down into a canyon laden with large granitic boulders, oak trees to shade our path, and a large stream. “Deep Creek,” I announce, and Nova gets about as excited as a kid waiting for the toy store to open on Black Friday.

“Cool it,” Grinder tells him. “It’s another ten miles from here.”

I laugh at Nova’s crestfallen expression as we start downhill. “Someone read their map this morning,” I tease.

“I like to know where I’m going,” Grinder reminds me.

When we reach the bottom, a ninety-foot steel bridge with wood treads spans the creek. I came across pictures of this bridge during my research a few times. It marks three hundred miles from where we started. I make the guys stop and take my picture standing in the middle of the bridge for my Instagram feed. Grinder takes a swig of water, looking irritated. “Are you going to do this every hundred miles?”

I shrug. “Maybe. You’ll have to wait and find out.”

For the record, yes, I am. I’m not changing who I am just because he’s annoyed. He can deal with it. This is my hike too.

After the bridge, the trail heads up to the canyon rim for a few hot miles before dropping back streamside. As we pass under cottonwood and willow trees, I drop back a moment and let Nova know we’re getting close. His whole face lights up with a gleeful smile. I smile, too, because something about Nova’s smile is contagious. It’s hard to be anything but happy around him when he’s in a good mood.

As we get closer to the hot springs, we pass a few pleasant spots to camp, but they’re already occupied. By the time we reach the cutoff to the springs, Grinder points out a tree line a little further up the trail. “We should be able to find a spot there,” he suggests. “Short hike back won’t hurt,” he says, tapping the ‘No Camping,’ sign at the trail junction. I agree and we head uphill to find a nice place to stop.

Nova is almost bouncing as he helps me out of my pack. “So . . . swim then eat?” he asks with more than a hint of excitement.

I laugh and nudge him away. “There’s plenty of time for both, sunshine. Cool it.”

We get camp set up quickly, all of us tempted by the laughter and splashing we passed a few minutes ago. Burners get set up to boil water while we finish setting up our tents. It doesn’t take long until we’re all enjoying our dinner. As I sit next to Nova, setting up my phone to charge, I notice Bats sitting with his back to us, staring at the creek rolling by. Something strikes me as odd about his posture. I stand, taking a moment to squeeze Nova’s knee in reassurance. “I’ll be right back.” When I reach him, Bats is sitting with an uneasy expression on his face. “You okay?”

Bats snaps out of his trance, giving me a grin, though it strikes me as a sad one. “Yeah. No worries. Time to go swimming?”

I take a few steps closer, asking in a low, concerned voice, “Are you sure? You’re not acting like it.”

Bats shoulders slump. “You’ll see soon enough. Go get changed before Nova explodes with anticipation. Okay?”

I glance at Nova, who looks concerned, but not worried. I notice Grinder staring at us with the same expression. “Okay,” I tell Bats, reaching down to squeeze his shoulder before I leave.

By the time I change and climb out of my tent, the guys are standing there waiting for me. It’s then that I notice the black tape around Bats’ right knee. “That’s a lot of . . . athletic tape?” I say, not sure how delicate of a conversation we’re heading toward.

“Kinesio tape,” Bats tells me.

“What does it do?”

“It helps with swelling,” Bats replies, looking down at it.

“Are you going to be okay swimming with it? I don’t remember you having it in the hot tub in Idyllwild.”

“No. The tape doesn’t react well to chlorine,” Bats replies. “But it should be fine in the spring.”

“I’m guessing there’s a story there,” I hedge. Bats responds with a resigning sort of nod. “Mind telling me about it?”

The question hangs thick in the air between us. Nova and Grinder stand aside, watching us with interest. For a moment, Bats is intent on not answering, and for some reason, it hurts. But then he nods, letting out a long sigh. “Yeah. I think I can do that.” A smile creeps up my face. Then he adds, “But . . .”

I freeze, because he has the same look he gives Grinder when he wants to talk about something uncomfortable. “But?”

“Will you tell us who Bryce is?”

Well, shit. That came out of left field. My heartbeat races as my gaze darts between each of the guys. They’re all looking at me with curiosity. But there’s also concern. Somehow, they know that name is important, but they don’t know why. They don’t know why it hurts just to hear his name. “How . . . How do you know that name?”

“Your Instagram feed,” Bats answers. “We saw what he wrote.”

“And Rachel’s response,” Nova adds. “I like her.”

“She’s the best,” I reply, skirting the issue. Trying to ignore it like I have for the last two months.

“So . . . Bryce?” Bats prompts, bringing the conversation back around. When I say nothing, he adds, “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. But if we’re going to be spending the next five months together, it feels like something we should know about.”

There’s a rush of pain in my chest. I’m not even close to ready for this. But maybe that’s okay? Maybe it’s time I tell the guys the reason I’m here by myself. Time to stop holding back the pain I’ve been too afraid to go through. If the other night in Big Bear was any indication, that wound is still raw. I’ve been plastering Band-Aid fixes over it instead of facing it. Nova smiles at me, warm and comforting, letting me know he’ll hold me together as long as I need him to in order to get it all out. Or at least to get enough of it out. “Okay. Your story for mine. Talk while we go to the spring?”

Bats nods, his eyes a little lighter. He waves a hand toward the trail, and Nova and I lead the way, hand in hand, Bats remaining quiet behind us as Grinder takes the back for once. The first minute passes in silence as I wait for Bats to begin. An uneasiness takes over, and I chance a glance back at him. A look of uncertainty clouds his normally stoic face. Perhaps over what he wants to say? Or how much? As nice as holding Nova’s hand is, tonight has become about me and Bats. With a quick squeeze, I let go of Nova and pause, offering my hand to Bats. He pauses a step, but takes my hand in his gentle hold.

“What day is it?” Bats asks no one in particular.

“Twenty-fifth,” Grinder replies without pause. “Sunday.”

Tags: Chris Mor Thriller
Source: readsnovelonline.net