Chapter Five
Rory
“Well, first day’s in the bag,” said Tommy as he flopped down on his bed in our shared room and immediately started playing on his phone. “I think they did well, even the pretty Yankee lass.”
I tugged my shirt over my head, tossing it on the floor with my socks. “You’re kidding, right?”
He looked up. “You don’t think she’s pretty?”
Aye, she was pretty, with all that long, shiny hair and those expressive brown eyes. That wasn’t what I was questioning.
“No, I mean you think she did well? She got a blister because she didn’t tie her brand new, clearly-not-broken-in-properly boots the right way, and she barely made it up from Rubha Hunish. She stopped every thirty seconds to take another damn photo to post on Instagram or Twitter or whatever to impress her friends back home. She was so fixated on her phone at the bothy that she didn’t even realize we’d all gone ahead already. How is that doing well?”
“You’re being too hard on her, Ror. She wasn’t the only one with a blister. The climb up from the Hunish is a tough one. And so what if she takes a million pictures? That’s what they’re here for.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, rummaging in my pack for clean clothes. Amelia’s obsessive picture-taking wasn’t my problem until she held up the group or put herself at risk. Then I’d have to say something.
“I’m not sure what your problem is with her, man, but you might want to lay off a little. At the end of the day, these folks are here to have a great time. They’ve paid to have a great time. If the guide’s a dick, that puts a real damper on that, you know?”
Clothes in hand, I sat on the edge of the bed. “I know. I just think she’s too much of a novice to do the Skye Trail. You saw how terrified she was when I gave the safety briefing this morning—she was practically shaking. She probably came out here on some whim, and has no clue what she’s doing. She should be on an easier trek where she won’t put herself in danger.”
I pictured her velvet-brown eyes, shining with awe as she stared at the sea stacks, sparkling with mirth as she giggled with the other lasses earlier, narrowed in anger when I’d told her to go to bed last night. And then I imagined them wide with shock and fear as her inexperience drew her too near the crumbling edge…
I scrubbed my hands over my face to banish the vision. “Anyway, I need a shower.”
Tommy stared at me for a long moment. He knew me too well to be fooled by my poor attempt to change the subject.
“I think you’re wrong about her,” he finally said, returning to his phone.
I rolled my eyes. “What, do you like her or something?”
He grinned without looking up. “And if I do?”
A flash of—something—went through me at the thought. I just as quickly brushed it off. “Whatever. Just remember that tomorrow’s a tough day and you need to stay focused. And so will she.” I started for the bathroom.
“Rory.”
I turned back. “What?”
His expression was serious. “Just give her a chance. She came here all by herself, to do this trek with strangers. If she wanted an easy holiday, she’d be sunbathing in Aruba or some shit, not getting blisters and strained muscles in this place, you know?”
I sighed. “I do know. And you’re right. I’ll be better tomorrow.” I nodded at his phone, which had chimed no fewer than ten times in the past two minutes. “You’d better deal with whoever that is—the lass from Fort William? I’m gonna hit the shower.”
After dinner, I took a long walk in the surf to clear my head, letting the sea air fill my lungs and the cold water soothe my feet.
The first day was always challenging, as we had to get a sense of the group’s skills. Plus, we had to set a good example and give a good impression of Scotland By Foot. You haven’t done a brilliant job with Amelia, though, have you? No, I hadn’t. And that would have to change. Tommy was right. I needed to stop being so hard on her.
I walked for half an hour before turning back. Tommy never understood my need to walk in the evenings after walking all day, but he thrived on getting to know the different people that came into our lives, a week at a time.
I, on the other hand, found people to be exhausting. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them; I was just an introvert and always had been. I loved being out on the trail—the scenery, the ever-changing weather, the challenge. But I needed my quiet moments, when I didn’t have to be “on”—answering questions, making conversation, or laughing at jokes. More importantly, I needed time each day when I didn’t have to be watching everyone, worried that someone would get hurt or wander off. I needed time to just be in my own head.
Besides, a stroll along the beach was hardly the same as the walking we did during the day.
I scooped up a flat, round stone, running my finger across the smooth surface. It was perfect for skipping. I hadn’t skipped stones in years, not since my brother Connor and I were lads. I rolled the stone in my hand, and then cocking my hand to the side, I chucked it at the water, watching as it skipped three, four, five times across the surface before sinking.
I hadn’t forgotten how.
I made my way back along the shore. The sun was still warm, so I sat on one of the picnic tables outside the hostel, tipped my face back, and closed my eyes. Heaven.
“Hey there. So, I made it through the first day of the trek.” The raised female voice startled me out of my almost-doze. Amelia sat on a boulder a few meters away, talking on the phone. There goes my peace.
I closed my eyes again, trying to tune out the next few minutes of what sounded like small talk.
“God, I should be there, not three thousand miles away doing this stupid hike. What was I thinking?”
I opened my eyes. She was off the phone, holding it in her hand as she stared out at the sea. Okay, she was clearly upset, but was she saying she didn’t want to be on the trek? It was bad enough that she was inexperienced, but why would she choose to do the Skye Trail if she didn’t want to? I got up from the table and headed inside.
Whatever that phone call was about, Amelia had better get her head on straight by tomorrow.