You and Me and Him by Kris Dinnison Read Free Book Online Page B

here?” I ask as I grab my pack from the back seat.
    “My dad dropped me at the park entrance. I ran up from there. It’s such an amazing morning.” He looks around again, his breath puffing little clouds into the sharp fall air. “By the way, you think I could get a ride home after?”
    “Oh, yeah, of course,” I say. In my mind I’m calculating the alarming amount of alone time I am going to build up with Tom today. “You ready?”
    He nods, and we set off through the gate to the trail.
    Tom stops to read a sign about bear sightings in the area. “Um, bears?” he asks. “Should I be worried?”
    “Only if you think you can’t run faster than I can,” I say.
    He chuckles but falls in next to me. He seems content to walk in silence for a bit, so I let myself find the rhythm of the pace and breathe in the early fall.
    “The truth is,” I say after a while, “the moose are more of a problem than bears around here.”
    “Moose?” Tom asks. “They seem pretty docile: kind of like tall cows.”
    “Have you ever seen a moose?”
    “Well, no—I guess in pictures and stuff.”
    “Well, they’re huge, and they can be very territorial, and if you piss them off or threaten their babies, they’ll try to stomp you flat.”
    “Understood,” Tom says under his breath. “Avoid pissing off local wildlife.”
    We follow the level part of the trail along the creek and into the old-growth cedar at the base of the mountain. I point out the occasional wildflower or chipmunk, but otherwise we don’t talk much. As we wind up the switchback trail, I can hear Tom start to breathe heavier behind me. It’s nice to know that not everything comes easy for him. The Patterson Falls loop is one of my favorite trails, winding uphill through some amazing cedar and fir forest. On the switchbacks, you catch occasional glimpses of the lake and town through the trees. We cross the creek a couple of times, but we don’t stop until we’re about twenty-five yards from the waterfall.
    “Close your eyes,” I say.
    Tom looks like he’s not sure he should trust me near the edge of a cliff.
    “Just close them,” I say. “It’s better if you take it in all at once.”
    Tom nods, adjusts his pack, and closes his eyes.
    I take his elbow and lead him the last few yards up the switchback to the viewpoint. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I position him facing Cedar Ridge and the lake. “Okay, take a deep breath, and open your eyes.”
    Tom opens them. His head swivels as he takes in the panorama of the mountains, the lake, and the glacial valley all laid out before him. “Wow,” he whispers.
    “That’s Hitchcock Mountain,” I say, pointing left over his shoulder. “And Rock Lake and town, of course.” He’s taller than me, so my arm touches his shoulder as I point. I feel his warmth through two layers of fleece.
    Tom nods. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing west to a mountain with a bit of snow and ice still visible in a basin below its summit.
    “Mount Baker. I know: another amazing geological feature named after an obscure dead white guy. So imaginative.”
    Tom nods again. “Do you know how lucky you are to live someplace this beautiful?”
    “Yeah. I do.”
    “So, why do we have the trail all to ourselves? Does Nash come up here?”
    My laugh comes out in a snort. “Um, never. You heard him the other day. Nash doesn’t do nature.”
    Tom turns and stares at me.
    I’m standing so close behind that when he faces me, I can smell peppermint and something earthy, but good, underneath. Cologne, maybe, or some manly hair product?
    He holds my eyes, and a small smile curls the corners of his lips. “How can you not ‘do nature’ when you live someplace this mind-blowing? That’s stupid.” He shakes his head and turns back to the view.
    “Well, yeah, the woods are gorgeous, but Cedar Ridge is Podunk. It can feel a little sad,” I say. “But we’re close enough to Seattle to get our culture fix when we need to.