Chapter Fifteen

Amelia

The evening in Portree was nice. I had a glorious, hot shower to wash off the grime from two days on the trail, and then dinner (and drinks) at a pub. I talked to Gordon about the tourism company he owned in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. When I mentioned that I was going to be moving to Miami to work in a hotel, he gave me his card and invited me to reach out to him when I got there. I also had a beer with Scarlet, during which she told me about how she got into being a guide and starting her own company, and I told her about my upcoming job at the hotel.

But my burger and fries, while decent enough, didn’t taste nearly as good as last night’s Chicken Pad Thai, eaten with a spork out of a packet after being reconstituted with hot water.

And the bed, while infinitely more comfortable than a sleeping mat atop a bed of pebbles, felt almost like cheating.

“It sounds like you’re enjoying the hike,” my mom had said on the phone when I called after dinner. “I’m so glad.” But how could I let myself enjoy it? I couldn’t forget why I was doing this—for Carrie, who should be the one hiking this trail. And I shouldn’t be thinking about Rory, but it seemed like every time there was a quiet moment, my thoughts went right to him.

Things had been strained between us all day, after his umpteenth apology. Not that they’d ever been great, but now it was worse.

There’d been one awkward moment when we’d stopped for a break, and I’d happened to look over at him as he was wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. When I finally tore my gaze away from his abs, I made eye contact with Tommy, whose huge grin indicated that he’d totally busted me checking out his friend. My face had grown hot, and I’d quickly busied myself with adjusting my pack, wishing I was bold enough to have just owned it. Looking away with my face bright red only made things worse.

But in spite of my embarrassment, as we’d continued the afternoon’s walk, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering. And it kept goddamn going to the way Rory’s lips had felt on mine.

My traitorous mind continued to torture me all through the night, showing me images of him chugging from his water bottle, the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed far more mesmerizing than it should have been. It showed me images of him running his long fingers through his windblown hair, and it showed me images of him striding from the water, droplets streaming down his chest.

It wasn’t entirely the fault of the too-comfy bed that I didn’t sleep well.

After a hearty breakfast at the B&B with Scarlet and a restocking stop at the market, we had a pre-walk briefing with Rory.

“Today’s walk is about twelve miles. The terrain is pretty straightforward until we get to the last section along Loch Sligachan, where the path is rough and requires several river crossings, which can be a challenge if the water’s high. But there’s a great restaurant at the hotel in Sligachan, and you’ll be sleeping in the bunkhouse there, so you’ll be amply rewarded for getting through the day.”

“Okay, everyone, have a good day, and I’ll see you at the Slig for dinner,” said Scarlet, reminding us that even though we’d be walking all day, she’d get to Sligachan in roughly twenty minutes on the road.

With the exception of about a mile of salt marsh, which required us to carefully navigate so we didn’t get our feet wet, the first few miles were on paved road. Which I discovered was utter hell while wearing hiking boots, which were not made for pavement.

I know you’re not bitching about your feet being sore, said Carrie’s voice in my head. Just remember why you’re doing this. If it was easy, everyone would do it. Without some pain and hardship, it wouldn’t be worth doing.

I knew she was right—or at least, her voice in my head was—but that didn’t make my feet feel better.

“Hey guys, let’s take a break here,” said Tommy. Wait, a break? I snapped out of my thoughts and looked around. We’d reached a crossroads, with a sign pointing to the left that read “Camustianavaig.”

“How’s everyone feeling?” Tommy asked. The response was a cacophony of complaints about sore feet from the paved road. “Right, so I have good news and bad news. Bad news first: there’s another four or so miles of paved road before we get to the loch.”

“And the good news?” asked Gordon.

“The good news is that we can take a detour to climb Ben Tianavaig, which will get us off the road for a couple hours. There’s a fantastic view from the top, but it’s about fifteen hundred feet up—and down again—so if you’re already feeling knackered, you may want to skip it. If some of you don’t want to go, I’ll take you ahead to Sligachan and you’ll get a head start on the beer while Rory takes the rest of you up. What say you all?”

The thought of doing that climb, with my feet already sore from walking on the road, was really unappealing. And it might be a good idea for me to have Rory out of my sight for a few hours, anyway.

“I think I’ll sit this one out, if that’s cool,” I said.

“No problem,” said Tommy. “Anyone else?”

“Oh, come on, Amelia!” said Linda. “If Pat and I can do it, you certainly can.”

That wouldn’t have been enough to make me agree to do the climb, but then I thought of Carrie. She would totally do it. And she’d be bummed if I didn’t, though she wouldn’t have insisted.

“It’ll be fun!” said Megan. “You don’t want to miss out, do you?”

When it came down to it, no, I didn’t—and I didn’t want Carrie to, either. Plus, it was nice to know that they all genuinely wanted me with them. “Okay, you convinced me. I’ll go.”

We took a short break, everyone taking off their packs and sitting on the ground for a snack and some water.

“You shouldn’t go up if you don’t want to.”

A little shiver of pleasure ran through me at the sound of Rory’s voice. I looked up to see him looming over me. “Why not? Everyone else is.” I cringed as I said it. I could hear my mother’s voice. Just because everyone else is doing it doesn’t mean you should.

He squatted down beside me. “That’s why you want to go up Ben Tianavaig, because everyone else is?”

“Why? Do you want me to stay behind?”

He tipped down his sunglasses. “No, I don’t want you to stay behind,” he said quietly, gazing at me with those eyes, clear green like sea glass. “I just don’t think you should let anyone force you into climbing a fifteen-hundred-foot hill you don’t want to climb.”

I couldn’t think when he stared at me like that. I looked at his unsmiling mouth, remembering how those lips had felt against mine. I wished he would smile. I wished he would kiss me again…

“Amelia?”

I dragged my eyes back to his. His expression was unreadable, but his cheeks were slightly pink, and I wondered if he’d been remembering our kiss, too, and wishing it would happen again. Then I remembered what we were talking about.

“No one’s forcing me. I didn’t come all this way just to sit out.”

“There’s no shame in admitting you need a break.”

And we were back to the condescension I hadn’t heard in two days. The pleasure I’d felt that he was talking to me, the desire for him to kiss me, winked out like a light.

“What I need is to go up goddamn Ben Tianavaig, see this amazing view I keep hearing about, and take some pictures. If you don’t want me around, why don’t you just come out and say it?” I knew I sounded petulant and ridiculous—I knew it—and yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself. The more he tried to talk me out of it, the more I was determined to go—determined to prove to him that I could do it.

Thwack! He slammed his palm down on his knee, so hard I jumped. “Damn it, Amelia, stop putting words in my mouth! Why are you being so goddamn stubborn?”

My face hot, I glanced around, but no one else seemed to have heard. “Why do you have to be such a jerk about everything? It’s bad enough that you’ve had some kind of issue with me from the first moment we met, but I thought maybe after the way you had your tongue in my mouth the other night, we’d be past that. I guess not.” As I said the words, his eyes widened and the color drained from his face, and I wished I could take them back.

But it was too late. I laid my hand on his arm, and he flinched as if I’d burned him. Shit. I needed to say something, to explain why… “Rory, I—”

He got to his feet, the movement lacking his usual grace. “You want to go up Ben Tianavaig, fine. I’m done arguing with you. God knows you need more fucking pictures.”

He stalked off without a backward glance.

I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my hands. Why did I keep doing this? I could picture Carrie slowly shaking her head, her mouth tight with disappointment. Babe, that was pretty harsh. It’s one thing to stand up for yourself, but this went beyond that. You need to apologize this time, no excuses.

If he’d even listen to me.

I chatted with Molly and Megan for part of the way up Ben Tianavaig, trying to keep my mind off the argument with Rory. But after a while, I intentionally fell back a bit under the guise of taking a photo and told them to go on ahead. I needed some solitude.

I had been truly horrible to Rory. Part of that was an instinctive response to being told not to do something—it just made me want to do it even more, like a rebellious teenager. And the other part? I didn’t want to admit that maybe he was right that I could use a break from yet another ascent and descent. But that didn’t give me the right to be a heinous bitch to him—to bring up the kiss he was obviously still conflicted about. After the fight about the tent, I’d vowed to stop picking fights with him, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

I reached the top of Ben Tianavaig, and my argument with Rory faded into the background. We’d summited a number of peaks so far—of varying heights and difficulties. But that feeling of taking that last step up to the top never got old. And this was no different.

The view was amazing. I could see Portree harbor and all the way back to the Storr and Trotternish Ridge.

I snapped a few photos—knowing Rory was probably watching me do it and rolling his eyes in disgust—and then I remembered what he’d said when we watched the eagle. I lowered the phone and just looked. I looked at the harbor, remembering the peace I’d felt gazing out at the anchored boats on that first night. I looked at the Trotternish Ridge, stretching into the hazy distance like the spine of a stegosaurus. I looked at the Old Man of Storr, the solitary pinnacle that was such a Skye icon.

Skye was utterly stunning. Everywhere. Each time I thought this is the best view yet, we’d get to the top of another peak or ridge and that view was the best one.

The others had all sat down for a break, but I stayed where I was. I looked to the north, back the way we’d come, and opened the voice recorder on my phone. “I’m sorry I told you I wouldn’t do this hike with you. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s so worth it, and I promise to come back and hike it again with you when you’re better.” I shuddered, remembering how she’d looked the last time I’d seen her. “You need to get better.”

My voice broke, and I sniffed back tears. “Oh, Carrie,” I murmured, “I keep acting so awful to Rory, when what I really want is for him to kiss me again. I wish you were here to tell me what to do. You always know the right things to say.” I swallowed hard. “I…I’ve become someone I don’t think you’d like very much. Anyway, I’m sorry…so sorry, for everything. I’m going to apologize to Rory and I’m going to do better from now on. I love you, and I miss you.”

I ended the recording and turned away from the edge. And stopped short. Rory stood barely two feet away. His sunglasses were in place, but I could feel his gaze on me.

Well, I’d wanted to apologize, and now was as good a time as any. I took a deep breath. “Rory, I’m—”

“It’s time to go,” he said. He stepped back so I could go in front of him, clearly not interested in anything I had to say. And really, why would he be?

I started down the trail, thinking of Carrie and how it was my fault she wasn’t here; of Rory, who would probably never speak to me again. I’m such a fuckup. I used to think I was a nice person—a good person—but now? I didn’t know who I was anymore.

My vision blurred, turning the steep, rocky path before me into a gray smear. I stepped down—

—and my foot jammed hard into the rock below, which was farther than it had looked through my veil of tears.

My knee buckled. It felt like a hot knife ripped through it as I went down, crying out in pain.