Page 61 of Wandering Wild
“That doesn’t make it any less true.”
We’re at a stalemate, until Zander sighs and says, “My two closest friends both blame themselves for everything happening in my life right now. I hate that they feel that way—and that I don’t know how to make them stop. One of them won’t eventalkto me.” His voice turns impossibly sad as he finishes, “I miss my best friend. Maddox has always had my back, and now that he needs me, I wish he’d let me return the favor. Do you have any idea how much it hurts, not being there for him?”
The words echo in my mind—and in my heart. I think about Ember and all we’ve been through, how for years I held her hands as she underwent her medical treatments, and then how in the last six months, she’s been the one holding me together through my grief. I can’t imagine how I would survive if she suddenly vanished from my life.
I curl into Zander, offering the only words I can find. “I’m so sorry. I wish I knew what to say to help make it better.” Something comes to me then. “It’s not the same, but—” My throat tightens, making it difficult to speak. “My stepdad hasn’t been able to look at me properly since Mum died. She was young when she had me, and as I grew older, people always marveled over how similar our faces were. I used to love that, knowing I looked like her. But now that she’s gone, I guess—I guess it’s too painful for him, seeing her in me. So even though we live in the same house, and we go through the motions, I might as well be a ghost to him.”
“Charlie,” Zander whispers, before repeating my own words. “I’m so sorry.”
I try to shrug, as if that will make the pain any less. “Ember says I need to give him time. And while I don’t know Maddox, it sounds like that’s what you need to do, too.” Quieter, I add, “That doesn’t make it any easier, though.”
“I’ve never been great at waiting,” Zander says with another sigh.
We trail off into silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. I stare into the fire, feeling ashamed all over again for the resentment I’ve been keeping toward him, especially now that I know the full story. He’s right that he’s not blameless—hedidchoose to get into his car that night. But if I put myself in his shoes and imagine Ember texting me the way Maddox did, I would have acted exactly like Zander. I would do anything to keep her alive. Hell, I’d do anything just to make sure she’shappy—as evidenced by me being on this hellish survival trip in the first place.
I want to find a way to tell Zander that I understand what he did. I also want to apologize for how I’ve been acting toward him since we met. And as hard as it will be, I want to explainwhy—or rather, whyhim—since it’s not as if I lash out at every person who has ever driven a vehicle while intoxicated. I think they’re stupid and risking so much more than they’ll ever understand, and I wish they knew how devastating their choices can be, but I don’t take personal offense to their actions like I did Zander’s.
However, before I can figure out how to do any of that, the events of the day catch up to me, the flames hypnotizing enough that my head drops onto Zander’s shoulder. I don’t even realize I’m falling asleep until my eyelids flutter shut, and by then it’s too late for me to fight it, or to even think about putting some space between us.
So I don’t.
* * *
“Charlie, wake up.”
Zander’s soft voice lulls me from sleep, making me sit up and rub my eyes as I slur around a yawn, “’S time t’go alre’dy?”
But when I blink into awareness, it’s still dark beyond the cave entrance, though there’s a white glow of moonlight bathing the forest floor, indicating the rain has finally cleared.
“Not yet,” Zander says, his voice still soft. “There’s something you have to see.”
I groan and shove weakly at him. “Sleep now. See later.”
Zander chuckles, then takes my hand and drags me to my feet. He gives a grunt of pain, reminding me that only hours ago he was quite literallydead, and that sends a bolt of recollected fear through me enough to quicken my waking.
“You should be resting,” I say sternly.
“I will in a minute. I just went to get us more firewood.”
I glance at the freshly stoked flames. “You should have woken me. I would have?—”
“I’m bruised, not broken,” he interrupts, squeezing my hand and making me realize our fingers are still entwined. “And I needed to stretch anyway. Who knew falling off so many things in so few days would make every part of me ache?”
His words are lighthearted, but they still make me grimace, because wehavedone a lot of falling on this trip—and we both have the marks to show for it.
I follow reluctantly as he pulls me out of the cave and into the crisp night air. Our thicker clothes are still drying, and I step unconsciously closer to him when goose bumps break out on my flesh.
“It’s not far,” he promises, leading me into the moonlit forest. The earth squelches beneath our boots, making me wonder how long it’s been since the rain stopped—and how long I was asleep on Zander before his midnight wake-up call. Of all the outrageous thoughts to cross my mind, I really hope I wasn’t drooling on him when he rose to get firewood.
“Just up here,” Zander says, indicating a small incline, at the top of which sits a layered rock formation rising above us.
“Very nice,” I say once we reach it, having no clue why he dragged me out of our warm cave for the sake of some stacked boulders dappled in moonlight. “Can we go back to bed now?”
I cringe at my wording, but Zander laughs quietly and says, “We’re not there yet.”
He points a finger upward, and I balk, realizing he intends for us toclimbthe rocks in front of us.
“Don’t you think we’ve defied death enough times today?” I ask. “Let’s not tempt fate.”
