“No,” she said. “Anybody looking at you and itemizing what you do on a daily basis might be temptedto stereotype you as careless. I was just close to saying that myself when I absolutely didn’t mean it. They would be tempted to think so. But I think you’re actually just a whole different breed.”
“I didn’t decide to keep myself safe,” he said. “I decided I had to figure out how to keep others safe. I’m not like my old man. I know that. I have never been quite that much of a narcissist. But I got a good look early on at how you can manipulate other people and what it does to them. I never wanted that. If anything, I set out to prove that you can have a good time, a pretty damned full life without fucking up other people. Work hard, be respectful where you need to be, be disrespectful in a fun way when you’re naked, and don’t stir shit up.”
“Destroyer of worlds, are you?”
“I just don’t want to be characterized as sweet.”
“Why? God forbid somebody see you?”
“I don’t need anybody to see me.”
“Oh Justice.”
That was the most ridiculous lie he’d ever told. That he didn’t do things to protect himself. But all things considered, she thought she might let him have the lie. Because why dig too deep into it today? Her life had been upended; she didn’t need to go rearranging his.
It was okay to let the subject drop, she decided.
The scenery was stunning, and as they wound up the mountain the snow got thicker. White and heavy on the dark green trees, blanketing everything in silence. There was no sound other than the horses’ hooves on the ground, the swish and flick of their tales. And everyso often a bird would call to another, and fly from tree to tree, disrupting the snow and stillness as they went.
Rue and Justice didn’t speak. One of the most incredible things about having a friend like him. Sometimes you didn’t need words. You could just be together and get something out of that. Comfort.
She tried to think if she had ever found Asher comfortable in a similar way. Talking, planning, those things had made her feel bonded to him, but silence had never felt this easy. It was strange, because they had so much in common. She and Justice didn’t on paper. Not that it was a comparable relationship. Not really.
She felt so much calmer now. More centered, and thank God. The last few days had felt so manic. Just an endless slog of discomfort. She wanted to fix it when there simply were no quick fixes.
She kept hitting highs and lows. When she’d been googling simple, adventurous things she could do yesterday during her binder building, she’d felt high. Dizzy and amped-up. Skydiving was a no, though she saw there were a lot of women who went through divorces and went skydiving, and she loved that for them. Just not for her.
Mountain climbing was also a no—but that was when she’d decided on trail riding.
Bungee jumping—no.
Running—another one people often took up when life turned against them.
Big no.
That was when she’d somehow ended up reading about cold-water plunges, which had taken her to thephenomena of polar plunges—usually done in groups for charity, where people leaped boldly into freezing water. It seemed daring, but not dangerous—in the right environment. And so she’d added it to the list.
In her mind, it had felt like she could maybe make some sort of peace with discomfort. Maybe.
Eventually she was going to have to leave King’s Crest and actually see people. Eventually she was going to have to figure out what to do about her self-confidence, which had been shot full of holes.
But this was an okay place to start.
When they arrived at the clearing at the peak, she maneuvered her horse around and looked out at the view below. Stunned by the glory of it. Justice dismounted and began to get into the pack that was resting on his horse’s haunches. He pulled out blankets, and she realized for the first time that he had a big picnic basket.
“Well, that’s just perfect,” she said.
He chuckled. “Yeah. I tried to come prepared. The snow is a little deeper than I was thinking, but I do have a tarp to keep you dry.”
He set everything out, right there in the snow, with the pine trees towering around them, and the view of the ranch stretching out below. Green fields dotted with cows standing in stark contrast to the snow they’d found at this elevation.
It was so peaceful. So quiet. A new version of their barn from back in the day.
It was a brief feeling, more of an impression than wholly thought out words, but for a moment she felt like she’d never be as happy as when they’d been kids in that barn. It was over quickly, and it left her startled.
They hadn’t been happy. They’d been kids surviving the best they knew how.
And yet for one moment she’d missed it. The simplicity of it.
