Fall With Me

“Come on,” Griffin says, leaning down. He picks me up easily, as though I were nothing more than a small child. “Let’s get you back.”



“You can put me down,” I say. “I bumped my head, not broke my leg.”



“Just think of it as me repaying you for helping me out that first night.” He glances over his shoulder. “Hey, Brett, will you carry Jill’s pack?”



I let him take a few steps and then I twist myself from his arms, land on the ground slightly off-balance. I grab his arm to steady myself.



“Listen,” I say. “I appreciate you wanting to help me. But you carrying me back to the van because of a very minor—emphasis on minor—head injury, is just such a cliché.”



“Cliché?” He grins. “I was thinking more along the lines of romantic.”



“Oooooh,” one of the campers says. A few of them giggle.



“It’s okay. I don’t need you to be romantic with me.”



He drops his head a little, so his mouth is right by my ear. “Why do you always have to play hard to get?” he asks softly. “Let me carry you back. I want to.”



“Well, I don’t.” The pain has settled into a steady thrum that matches my pulse. It is no worse than a low-grade headache. “Really, I’m fine.”



He takes my hand. “At least let me hold your hand then. We don’t want you losing your balance again.”



He entwines his fingers around mine, his grip gentle, nothing like the vice-lock that Sean used to use whenever he’d hold my hand.



“Okay,” I say finally. “You can hold my hand until we get back to the main trail, and then you’re letting go.”



He smiles. “You’re really something else.”



Though he probably doesn’t mean it as such, I decide to take it as a compliment.



After I reassure Bill and Lorrie half a dozen times that I’m fine and don’t need to take a trip to the E.R., I go lie down for a while. I try not to replay the scene over and over again, though it’s hard not to and I feel a little embarrassed but also proud of the kids for how well they handled it.



There’s a knock at the door, and then Karen steps in. “Brett told me what happened,” she said. “Are you okay?”



“I’m fine. Just going to take a little nap and then I’ll be good to go.”



“Do you need anything? Can I make you some tea?”



“That’s okay. Thank you, though.”



She turns toward the door but then stops. “Did Griffin really carry you all the way back?”



“He tried,” I say with a smile.



A dreamy look crosses her face. “I’d totally knock my head against a rock if it meant he would carry me back to camp. I can’t believe you didn’t let him.”



“Griffin is very amicable; I’m sure if you ask him he’d be happy to carry you around.”



She gives me a curious look, as though she’s trying to decipher whether I’m joking or not. I kind of am, although knowing Griffin, he’d probably be down for doing something like that.



“Well, let me know if you need anything.”



“I will, Karen. Thank you.”



She leaves and I let my eyes close. I don’t know if I actually fall asleep or not; it’s one of those in-between states where you could be awake or could be asleep, where you’re having dreams but still able to hear all the noises around you.



I don’t know how much times passes but then I hear another tap at the door. I pry open one eye.



“Come in,” I say.



It’s Griffin, and he comes over and sits at the edge of the bed. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says. “How are you doing?”



“I’m okay.” The headache has receded to a dull ache. “Karen was just in here checking on me a little while ago. Don’t be surprised if she asks you to carry her around at some point.”



He smiles. “I’m not even gonna ask. Just prepare yourself for a few more people to come check in on you after me.” I give him a quizzical look and he touches my forehead. “Head injury, and all. You know, you want to take the proper precautions. No slipping into a coma and dying.”



“I doubt this is even a concussion. I’m actually going to get up in a few minutes.”



He tucks a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. “Eh, you don’t need to. We’ve got it covered. Karen and Allison took some of the kids swimming and the rest are out on a trail ride with Lorrie. It’s pretty quiet out there right now, actually.”



“Well, that’s good.”



“You kind of scared me for a minute back there, you know.”



“I was out for like half a second.”



“It was a little longer than that.”



I groan. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s embarrassing. In front of all the campers.”



“Don’t be embarrassed. It could’ve happened to anyone.”



“I didn’t see you losing your footing and knocking yourself out.”



“Not this time, but . . . trust me, sweetheart, I’ve done some legitimately embarrassing things in my time, half of which I can’t even remember.”



“Well, thanks for helping. And for offering to carry me back.”



“I wish you would’ve let me.”



“And relinquish my last shred of dignity? I don’t think so.”



“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with helping someone out. You helped me out, right? That’s what friends are for.”



“I didn’t realize you considered me a friend. I have been kind of awful to you.”



He smiles and pats my arm. His hand is warm, and my skin tingles slightly where he’s touching me.



“I won’t hold it against you,” he says. “Girls are usually pretty nice to me, so finding one who wasn’t was actually somewhat refreshing. Rest up, sweetheart. I’ll come back and check on you in a little while.”



I watch him leave. He pauses at the doorway and glances back and smiles, and I can’t help but return the gesture.



Chapter 17: Griffin



There’s a large wall calendar hanging on the tack room door in the barn, and after I come back from putting the last two horses out to pasture, I stop and study the dates. It’s almost the end of June; I don’t know when camp is officially over, but at some point I’ll need to figure out what my next move is going to be.



It’s almost a little strange, the effect that being here has had on me. In a way, I feel like a different person. The old Griffin probably wouldn’t have even stayed here past the first few days, would’ve flown back to New York, regrouped, and headed off on another adventure. Maybe somewhere a little more relaxing than Thailand, say, the Shetland Islands or Ishigaki. But this new Griffin, he’s thinking of something different. As I stand there and stare at the white boxes and black numbers, I realize that I’d like to actually go out and work. Live a normal life. I don’t want to be the international party boy anymore, living off my dad’s dime. Though it isn’t a lot, what Bill and Lorrie are paying me is the first money I have ever received in return for my efforts. And there is satisfaction in that, and a sense of accomplishment, even though if what I’m accomplishing doesn’t amount to much more than hanging out with some kids and feeding horses hay.



“I didn’t realize we had such a riveting wall calendar.”



Jill comes up and stands next to me. She’s got a few shavings stuck in her hair, and I reach over and pick them out. I’m not sure what did it, but things with Jill have definitely been going better. Better than better, even. Maybe knocking herself out on the hike actually did her some good.



I look back at the calendar. “Yeah, the squares are so symmetrical. I’ve never seen a calendar with such symmetrical squares. I’m actually just trying to figure out what my plan is going to be once things wrap up here. That’s in what, August?”



“Yeah. Kind of hard to believe it’s almost July.”



“July is one of my favorite months.”



“Is it?”



“It is. Good things always seem to happen for me in July.”



“My birthday’s in July.”



“Well, there’s even more reason, then. When?”



“July second. Though the older I get, the less I look forward to it.”



“Why? Birthdays are always fun; it doesn’t matter how old you are. And you, sweetheart, are not that old.”



She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess good things have never really happened for me on my birthday. Or in the whole month of July, for that matter.”



“Well, why don’t you let me take you out?”



“You don’t have to do that.”



“I know I don’t have to; I want to. I will even write the date down so I don’t forget it.” I rip a corner from the calendar and use the pen that’s hanging from a piece of twine. Take Jill out. Friday, 7/2. Something about the date seems familiar, though probably it’s the birthday of some other girl I once knew. I show her what I’ve written and then fold the paper and tuck it into the pocket of my jeans. “So.” I look up. “Where should we go? Or would you prefer I plan the whole thing?”



“Well, I hate to disappoint you,” she says, “but I’ve already got birthday plans. I’m going to do dinner at my mom’s house, and maybe watch a movie, and then come back here and go to sleep.”



“Dinner and movie with Mom sounds nice; the rest sounds terribly boring. Maybe you hate your birthday so much because you haven’t done anything fun.”



“That’s an excellent theory, but unfortunately I’m not going to change my plans. Why don’t you tell me about your plans.”



“What? For your birthday?”



“No, for what you’re going to do after camp.”



“Oh. Well, I haven’t gotten that far yet. I have no idea, really. But you want to know something, Jill? Just being here at the ranch, and getting to do all the things I’ve been doing—this might sound kind of silly, so don’t laugh—but it’s like it’s opened my eyes to other possibilities, other things I could be doing with my life than just being some rich man’s son. ‘Cause that’s great and everything for a while, but I want to do something different. I want to work. Doing what, I don’t know, but I just don’t want to waste any more time being a waste, spending someone else’s money. It’s actually a very, very nice feeling to earn your own money.”



She smiles. “It is, isn’t it? My uncle is pretty well off, and he’s been helping pay for my mother’s medical expenses, and I think he’d probably be willing to just pay for everything, if we let him, but I just couldn’t be okay with him doing that. Not that I don’t appreciate what he’s done, but I’ve never wanted to take money that I didn’t earn. Something my dad taught me, actually. He had a really great work ethic.”



“What is it with the rich relatives always trying to foot the bill?”



She doesn’t smile when I say this, even though I was trying to make a joke. Not so funny, I guess. But I watch her for a second and her lips turn up at the corners in a tiny smile.



“Fuck the rich relatives,” she says.



I laugh. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”



Though Jill isn’t letting me take her out on the actual date of her birthday, I think I can probably get her to agree to go out the next night. I’m not exactly sure what’s caused her sudden change in feelings toward me, but it’s nice, and I’m not going to question it. And I find myself thinking about the fun things we might be able to do, and no, I’m not just talking about getting her into bed. Which is odd, I’d be the first to admit it. Any girl I’ve ever taken interest in before has mainly been because of her carnal potential. Maybe it’s because Jill spurned me at first, or maybe there really is something different about her, I don’t know, but I sure would like to find out.



Then there is the small problem of Allison. In the past I could’ve just bounced—gone somewhere else, disappeared, as there are few things worth sticking around for if you’ve got a lovesick girl hounding your ass—but now, it seems, I have found something that is worth it. A few things, and one of those being Jill.



Cam calls me again one night when I’m lying in bed.



“Are you calling to check up on me?” I ask. “Christ, what time is it?”



“Have you noticed anything strange? I’m worried that you might still be in danger.”



Now this is interesting. If there’s one thing my brother doesn’t do, it’s worry, and certainly not about me.