Our parents are the true famous ones.
And I can’t climb with the media hovering around. As much as I’d love for my parents to be out here with me, I’m not sure I should fly back into the nest this soon. It hasn’t been that long since we left Philly. I’ve barely been out here without them.
“Don’t know what to say to her?” Banks wonders since I’m stalling.
“I’m just nervous she’ll bring up things I can’t answer.” I don’t mention how I’m a shitty liar. That is already known.
His eyes are on the woods behind me, scanning the area as he talks. “Want some advice?”
“Yeah, I’d love anything.”
His gaze lands on me. Older. Protective. I want to walk into his embrace again. Feel the warmth of his arms around me, but the phone in my hand feels like a barrier.
“When you talk to your sister,” he tells me, “don’t think of the cougar attack as a secret you’re keeping from her. The things you aren’t ready to tell people, they’re not really secrets. They’re just vulnerable parts of you that need time to be shared.”
That hits me because I know he’s talking from experience.
Skylar.
His older brother that he doesn’t talk to anyone about. He must be one of the most vulnerable parts of Banks.
I inhale a stronger breath, smiling. “That’s some good advice.”
Banks smiles into a soft laugh. “I’m full of advice. Not sure if it’s all good, but I don’t mind giving it.”
My lips haven’t dropped, a giddiness suddenly surging through me. I hesitate to call my sister again, only this time it’s because I don’t want this moment with Banks to end yet.
I check our surroundings. No campers are hiking to the corkboard, so I look back at him and say, “I liked last night in the tent.” We all haven’t talked too much about what we did together. And I know it existed inside this dream world. In the shelter of the woods. Something that’ll be left behind in the wilderness. Because once we’re home, I’ll have to choose.
“I’m glad.” He smiles. “I enjoyed it too, mermaid.”
My eyes glass in a bigger smile. That feels good, knowing he doesn’t regret anything.
And then a faraway gunshot splinters the air.
I flinch.
“Probably hunters,” Banks says, eyes on me.
“Yeah,” I nod, trying to shake off the sudden jolt. “I’ll call my sis.” I dial Nona’s number and squat down, fully hidden behind the information board and a couple shrubs.
When I look up, I catch Banks’ shadow of a grin.
“What’s so funny?” I ask him.
“The squat and talk.” He gestures to my position. “Not funny but cute.”
He said I’m cute. If my heart were a cheerleader, it’d be performing a winning routine right now. “Want to squat with me?” I ask.
Banks has trouble looking away. “You know I would, but I’m supposed to be protecting you. I won’t see who’s coming.”
I can’t reply, my sister cuts over the line. “Sulli?”
“Squirt,” I greet, phone to my ear.
Banks turns his back to me. To give me privacy and protect me, I think.
I’m dying to gush to my sister about him. Focus. Concentrate. “You’re not at school yet, are you?” I didn’t calculate the time difference, but it’s super early here.
“Not yet. I’m about to carpool with the babes soon.” The babes are our cousins and her best friends: Vada Abbey (Aunt Willow’s daughter), plus Kinney Hale and Audrey Cobalt. “Just eating a bagel with almond butter.” She clicks onto FaceTime.
Fuck.
I hold the camera close up to my face. Only a small scratch on my cheek and forehead. Stuff that she’ll chalk up to thorns or rocks from hiking and climbing.
I accept the FaceTime call.
Her camera is zoomed in on the bagel and almond butter. Then she flips the view to her face. Dirty-blonde hair wet from a morning shower, Winona smiles at me with almond butter spread over her teeth. “Am I beautiful, Sulli?”
I laugh. “The most beautiful land crab I’ve ever seen.” It’s an inside joke, and I hoist the camera closer to my face. Just to be safe. “So Dad’s really cutting out eggs and diary?”
“Yeah, for real,” Winona says into a gulp of water, her smile still present. “He said he’d try harder than last time. He even shook on it. And you don’t have to join if you don’t want to. No pressure.”
I killed a cougar, Nona. Swallowing back those words, I say without thought, “Yeah totally, but I think I’m gonna try, too.”
“Really?” Her voice goes high-pitched in excitement. She sets her glass down so abruptly, water sloshes.
“Yeah. Why not?” My guilty conscience is making me vegan for the wrong fucking reasons, but I’ve already hopped on this fast-moving train.
“Because you eat whipped cream almost every day, and last time you tried an egg-less, dairy-less waffle, you said it tasted like ass.”
“Maybe I like eating ass now,” I banter.
Banks turns his head slightly. He definitely heard that.
I heat up.
Winona notices. “Who are you looking at?”
“Banks. He’s on-duty.”
Winona raises her voice. “Banks, stop eavesdropping!”
“Nona—”
“What? Tell him to stop, Sulli. I hate when bodyguards listen into private conversations. It’s not like we get to listen into their private discussions.”
My sister is one of the few in my family to maintain real privacy. Her Instagram account is mostly just pretty landscape photos. Rarely, she’ll post her face. She’s not on We Are Calloway, and paparazzi seem to always be more interested in the people she’s with rather than her.
“You wouldn’t care if Akara was overhearing us.” I glance over at Banks. He’s already moving several feet away from me. Giving me more privacy.
My stomach sinks.
“Akara is more like family,” Winona says. “But if he screws with you, he’ll have to go through me.”
“Banks’ brother is about to literally be family,” I remind her.
She stares off, thinking. “I don’t know, I just feel different about Akara. It feels like he’s always been around us. He’s like Moffy, and I wouldn’t care if Moffy overheard us.”
I recoil. “Akara is not related to us. He’s not our brother.”
She bites into the bagel. “But he kinda is.” She freezes. “Why do you look so freaked out? Sulli?”
“It’s just fucking disturbing that you think Akara is a brother to me.”
Winona chews her bite of bagel slowly. “Do you have a crush on him? Sul.” Her eyes widen. “Why didn’t you tell me—?”
“I’ve just never thought of Kits like a brother,” I interject, feeling more like the younger sister when I’m six fucking years older. Maybe she can tell I’m not ready to talk about Kits, because she doesn’t press or pry.
She smiles. “Got it.” She bites another hunk of bagel. She’d totally be Team Akara if she knew my dilemma.
It’s not their choice.
It’s mine.
I know.
I know.
Winona asks, “What kind of asses have you been eating that made you a convert?”
“Jerky asses, nice asses. Turns out, I’m not that picky.”
Winona raises her glass. “Cheers to the nice asses.”
I mime a glass and knock mine with the camera. “What’s up with you, squirt? How’s school going?” She talks for a while about douchebags in their classes. How with all the babes (aka the girl squad) in high school together now, along with Ben Cobalt, more eyes are on them in the hallways and classrooms.
“Mom and Dad miss you a bunch too,” Winona says. “They keep buying donuts even though you aren’t here, so hey, I figure they’re doing better than when you first moved out. We had like five stale boxes in the kitchen then. Now we just have three. None of us eat them as fast as yo
u.”
The pang of homesickness returns tenfold.
I tell my sister I miss all of them. And I love them.
Not long after we hang up, Luna calls me.
Another FaceTime.
Only when I click into the video, I’m greeted by a potato. More specifically, Luna is a potato. She turned on a phone-filter, and I instantly laugh.
I change my filter to a tree. And we chat as a potato and tree for a few minutes. Catching up. She tells me about online college courses.
I tell her about the cougar attack, since no one has told her yet.
“No way,” she inhales. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just a bad cut. Kits has the worst damage.” We chat for a couple more minutes, before I glance through a shrub and see a pair of Vans moving fast towards the corkboard. Akara. “Hey, I gotta go, Luna.”
We say fast goodbyes, and I jolt up to a stance.
Akara rolls to a stop next to the corkboard. Banks is further away now. So I focus on Kits. Who breathes hard like he sprinted here.
“Sulli.” He holds a hand out like he means to explain more.
That’s all she is to me. I tense. And I can admit that I fucking care that he hurt me. That it hurt. Hot anger rises and I snap, “That was fucked up.”
“I know.” His eyes redden. “I know. I shoved a bowl of Instant Regret in the microwave, Sul. I’ve been eating the thing the entire time Farrow stitched me.”
I glance at his bandaged elbow. “I’m glad you got stitches.”
His face twists, seeing that I’m still upset. “Sulli—”
“That’s all you are to me,” I say angrily. “A bodyguard and a friend.”
Akara looks like he could fall to his knees in despair.
“And if you were anyone else,” I continue, “you’d be out of my life right now, you know that? I’ve let you make me feel so fucking hurt and angry.”
“I’m sorry.” He’s near tears. “I’m sorry. Please, I don’t want to lose you.” His Adam’s apple bobs, his fingers thread through his hair.
My eyes burn with emotion. Maybe I’ve been too hard on too many people. Maybe I’m too hard on Akara right now. I want to stick up for myself, but I also don’t want to be incapable of forgiveness.
“I know it was a slip,” I say softly, and he eases a little. “But why was it so easy for you to say that to them?”
He comes closer. “Because I’ve said it too many times before, and I believed it then.”
“Are you sure you don’t believe it now?”
He chokes on a pained noise. “Yes.” He gives me a horrified look. “We…” He lowers his voice, close enough that his hand brushes my fingers. “We hooked up. I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t have feelings for you, Sul.”
“You warned me you’re a dick,” I remind him.
“I’m not that kind of dick.” Akara clasps his hand around mine. I let him, as he says, “I’m the dick who isn’t thinking about emotions, just logical tactics—and I regret it. I never want to hurt you like that, Sulli.”
I breathe in, and I curve my arms around his waist. He hugs me. I listen to his heartbeat and his soft apologies in my ear.
Since we’re not hidden behind the corkboard, the embrace doesn’t last long. Akara motions Banks over, and I can tell Akara is frustrated by something else too.
“Why was Oscar pressing me so hard about her?” Akara asks Banks. Hearing them talk about other bodyguards in front of me is always super fucking interesting.
Banks fixes his earpiece. “You know why. It’s always been too easy to bust your balls by bringing up Sulli.”
Akara pinches his eyes. “The fucking Yale boys, man.” He drops his hand. “They’re too talkative and observant.”
Banks bounces his head.
I frown. “You guys don’t think they’ll figure out what’s going on between us?”
Akara is still fuming. “If they keep bugging me about you, maybe.”
As the sun rises and tension builds, the cold recedes. Body heating up, I tie my jean jacket around my waist.
“And the baby,” Akara vents. “Every time I look at that baby, all I can think is, Baby Needs A Bodyguard—like a printed poster across my eye sockets. But no, Farrow and Maximoff don’t want a bodyguard for the baby. They can protect their kid themselves.” He looks to me. “Which I don’t completely understand, considering Maximoff had a bodyguard when he was a baby.”
“I didn’t really have a 24/7 bodyguard until I was older,” I tell him. “So I get it.”
Akara looks to Banks for back-up.
“Baby needs a bodyguard,” Banks nods in agreement.
“Exactly,” Akara says, their eyes on me as they team up against me.
“I’m not sure I love the whole you two versus me thing, but weirdly, I don’t hate it. Probably because I know I can kick your asses.”
Banks laughs like that’s wholly untrue, and now I really want to test out kicking his ass. I’m about to ask how much he can bench-press.
But Akara tells me, “It’s not us versus you, string bean.”
Banks goes to wrap an arm across my shoulders the same time that Akara goes in—and their forearms knock together.
They glare at each other. Hands drop to their sides.
Quickly, I add, “I also don’t like Akara versus Banks—that is the fucking worst matchup.” While they’re on either side of me, I curve one arm around Akara’s waist and the other around Banks’. Squeezing them closer to me.
They ease.
“We’re cool, Sul,” Akara assures me.
Banks nods.
I touch their lower backs, and their gazes roam over me in a sweltering beat. It’s really fucking hot out here. I retract my hands and retighten the knot of my jacket on my waist. And I reroute to the other topic. “Just let Farrow and Moffy do their thing.”
“Well, I have to,” Akara sighs. “They’re not budging no matter what pitch I give.” To Banks, he says, “Thatcher gave me some updates on the guys back in Philly.” He must be referring to Quinn and Donnelly.
“What’s the word?” Banks asks.
While they talk, I study the hiking trail guide on the corkboard. My finger travels the line to The Bitterroot Buttress.
No part of me wishes to return to the rock face. The path there is cursed. And I don’t want to replay the cougar attack every time we trek to the base of the crag. I’m leaving the goal unfinished.
Incomplete.
Safety is more important, and I need to be completely focused. Not halfway back in the past. And anyway, I’ve become more used to scrapping goals and beginning new ones. It’s not that devastating.
Moffy not being able to run the Chile ultra-marathon helped me take small bumps and hiccups in better strides. Shit happens.
Fuck it all and start again.
I tap a finger to the next rock face my dad once free-soloed. The climbing route is dubbed Rattlesnake Knuckle.
“I don’t remember him bringing home any girls since we’ve been living together either,” Banks says to Akara. My ears pick up mid-conversation.
“Who?” I ask.
Yeah, I’m fucking nosy. Maybe because I over-share my life, and it feels like everyone else under-shares.
“Donnelly,” Banks tells me.
Akara explains more, “Quinn said he hasn’t seen Donnelly bring home any girls to hook up with.”
While we trek up the path to RV Campsite #12, they flank either side of me, and I ask them, “Is that out of the ordinary for Donnelly or something?”
“Yeah,” Akara says. “When I was living with him in Epsilon’s house years ago, his one-night stand stole his wallet, mine, and Greer’s in the morning and then bolted.”
Greer Bell. He was my bodyguard before Akara. From age 8 to 16, Greer protected me, and he’s currently the 24/7 bodyguard to my sister Winona. Since Greer joined security at twenty-two, he’s now in his mid-thirties.
I snort. “She was able to steal from legit se
curity guards.”
Banks laughs with me.
Akara tries not to smile. “That’s so not the point, you two.”
“Yeah, what’s the point then?” While we walk, I go to lightly slug his shoulder, then retrack. Remembering he’s hurt. Good call, Sulli.
“Donnelly usually brings chicks home,” Akara tells me, “but he hasn’t been. Any change in my men, just puts me on edge. I’m just worried about him.” He pushes his hair back and fits on a backwards baseball cap.
Banks reminds Akara, “And he’s been sleepwalking.”
Akara let that slip one time to me. So it’s not news to me that Donnelly sleepwalks.
“On one hand, is he okay?” Akara muses out loud, our feet in sync as we pass the camp bathrooms. “On the other, is he fit for duty?” He touches his chest. “I’m not around enough right now to make that call.”
“Then don’t,” Banks says, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Just let Thatcher keep an eye on Quinn who has eyes on Donnelly.”
Akara nods, exhaling.
I understand competitive pressure from sports. But not the kind of pressure that Banks and Akara face daily. They’re both in charge of human lives, but Akara is also in charge of Banks’ life and the rest of SFO. If anything goes wrong, if anyone is hurt, that falls on his shoulders.
While we continue up a hill, we go quiet and I feel their eyes flash to me every now and then. Being between them is the greatest comfort but the biggest challenge I’m going to meet. For some reason, it feels tougher than any rock I’m going to climb.
27
BANKS MORETTI
Firewood and branches pile high in Sulli’s arms. I grip an axe and a bunch of wood, while Akara glares at me and then Sulli. I’d say Yellowstone Country is beautiful this evening with the yellows and oranges cresting the horizon as the October season descends on Montana, but the more beautiful thing is Akara’s annoyance.
Love to push his buttons and see him switch from friend to shut up, Banks, and it’s been too easy lately. Strangely enough, it has nothing to do with Sulli.
“This is ridiculous. I can carry a log,” he combats.
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