Tears are streaming down her soft cheeks.
“Why are you crying?” My voice breaks.
“I’m crying because you’re crying.” Her chin quakes. My face is wet.
I try to laugh but it cracks. “I’m sorry, Nona.” I’m so afraid she’s going to look at me differently, but her wet lashes and glassy eyes stay on me with condolences and love.
“I don’t think I could’ve done it, Sulli.” She cries with me. “I would’ve let the cougar kill me.”
“Stop.”
“No, I would’ve. And it’s good. It’s good that you were the one there…” We’re both nodding to each other, foreheads together, sucking in snotty tears. “It’s good,” Winona breathes, “because Mom and Dad can’t lose either of us. And I can’t lose you, not to an animal, not to a mountain—I just can’t.” We shift our heads and come together in the tightest hug, tears soaking each other’s shoulders.
We stay like that for a few more minutes. And she asks if I got hurt. I tell her about everyone’s wounds, but that we’re all okay.
She’s not disappointed in me for taking an animal’s life. She’s just happy that I’m alive. Weight eases off my chest.
When we separate, we dry our faces with our shirts, and she rests her head on my shoulder for a beat. For once, I feel like the older sister. And I realize it’s her fear of losing me that causes this change.
While Akara dots all the Is and crosses the Ts, all the paperwork involved in renting an RV, Winona and I loiter around the office’s vending machines. We unscrew bottles of Ziff and chat about her suspension.
I’ve done a decent job hiding the love triangle because she hasn’t said a thing or even done a double-take.
Score for Sulli! I could pump my fist in the air.
I smile into my Ziff.
Off to the side of us, I hear Banks say, “Greer, nice beard.”
It pulls my attention to my sister’s bodyguard. Sure enough, Greer has grown a somewhat thick beard. It’s the same copper-red as his hair. He has a muscular build, and his left earlobe is bitten off.
When I was little, he used to tell me a shark bit him. Eight-year-old me was very fucking fascinated by that fact. As I got older, I called him on his bullshit, and he admitted it was a bar fight at eighteen and some drunk guy took a chunk out of him.
He won the fight apparently, but it’s still horrific in my mind. And that’s also when I realized why my parents didn’t try to force him to tell me and Nona the truth when we were kids.
It’s kind of hard to believe Greer had been my bodyguard for eight years. Since he was twenty-two and I was only eight, we weren’t friends. But he wasn’t a jerk, and he’s still really nice to my sister.
More so, I think Akara and Greer were friends at a certain point. Honestly, I can’t say for sure. It’s hard to grasp the bodyguard relationships from my vantage. But I can’t imagine they weren’t at least friendly before Kitsuwon Securities. They spent a whole ton of time together on my family trips.
“But they did ground you?” I ask Winona since that part has been vague.
“Sort of. Dad said when I get back, I can’t be on the internet for the weekend.” She shrugs with a smile. Our dad has to know that’s not much of a punishment for Nona. She’s rarely on the internet. “Mom said he smiled when he heard who I punched. But he’s all like, I’m not trying to fucking promote violence in this household.” Her imitation is spot on.
I laugh. “So they didn’t want to fly out with you?” On this trip, I’ve talked to my parents only a handful of times, mostly to check-in, say hi and I’m alive. Our phone calls have been nowhere near the almost daily that I’m used to, so I don’t know where their heads are at.
Winona sips the sports drink, then wipes a dribble down her lip where a scar lies. “I wondered the same thing. I thought they would’ve wanted to see you climb.” She begins to smile. “But Mom told me this is your great, wild adventure, and you need this time without them.”
My eyes burn and well with emotion.
She knew—my mom knew this trip would be more than just the spirit of climbing. That it’d become so much more.
I smile into a soft laugh. Thanks, Mom. I feel like I’m on the right path, even if it’s an uncertain one.
36
AKARA KITSUWON
Sulli is at least a hundred feet off the ground. As she ascends Rattlesnake Knuckle, the crack in the slab of rock widens so much that her legs stretch further and further apart. Firmly rooted between the fissure, she releases a hand off the rock to shake out her right arm.
She still has on a harness.
And rope.
She’s solo climbing, placing safety gear up the rock face, and once she reaches the top, she’ll rappel down and clear it all.
I remind myself that she’s safe if she falls—because the nervous audience watching her climb right now is making me more edgy and apprehensive.
There might not be a football stadium of people gawking at Sulli, but there are a lot of eyes and even a few cameras.
From Jane, Maximoff, Charlie—to Farrow, Thatcher, Oscar—to Jack Highland-Oliveira, his sixteen-year-old brother Jesse—to Greer and Winona—and we can’t forget about the baby and the puppy.
And I saved the shittiest for last: Team Apex decided to observe Sulli for the day like they’re suddenly fans. They’ve parked their asses on a hill. Adding to a broiler of intensity that burns up inside of me. My gaze cuts between so many people.
When really, I wish I could just focus on Sulli. It wouldn’t be that bad if everyone knew we were dating. Because at least I could’ve kissed her before she ascended. Shit, I’ve watched her climb countless times throughout my life, but it’s hitting me how different it’s been in Yellowstone.
I want to smother her with affection. To hold her cheeks and whisper dirty things in her ear. To put my lips to hers before she climbs four-hundred feet in the air.
But with everyone here, it’s like I’m only her bodyguard.
Her friend.
Like we’ve shot backwards, and I can’t paddle to the place I want to be. That feeling settles inside me like a chainsaw. Just friends.
Only friends.
I’ve never hid my affection in a relationship. I hate this. And the worst part: this is all either me or Banks will ever get with Sulli. One of us will never know more.
On the grass beneath the cliff-face, Banks is standing beside me, toothpick between his lips. He gives me a look like I’m pacing around the rock and biting my nails.
All I’m doing is running my palms back and forth. Under my breath, I tell him, “I liked it better before.” I catch his gaze for a second. “When it was just the three of us.”
“Yeah.” Banks nods about five times. “Me too.”
We both go rigid. Watching Winona climb a traditional route parallel to her older sister. Placing gear, she’s the lead climber while Maximoff is her belay, climbing about six-feet below.
While Winona stops at an anchor she just placed, she grips a Canon camera strapped around her neck. And she films Sulli.