But I’d rather take on Ryke Meadows than Loren Hale as the father of the girl I’m dating. Any day of the week.
I unmute Loren and put my phone to my ear. “It happened this summer, and he tattooed Luna at your house. She requested the tattoo.”
Loren is quiet on the line.
SFO are holding their breaths.
I wait.
“My kids are young,” Loren says sharply. “Luna looks younger than her age, and she’s a young, impressionable nineteen.” He’s emphasizing these words very strongly here. “My son is a young, impressionable sixteen. My daughter didn’t have a single tattoo until Donnelly. And now my son’s favorite hoagie place has changed.”
I don’t think Xander ever had a favorite hoagie place.
Loren keeps going, “Tell him to back off. He’s not their best friend. He’s their twenty-eight-year-old bodyguard. And he’s going to be roadkill if he ever sees my daughter unclothed again. I don’t give a shit if it’s just for a tattoo. I’m not an idiot—I know how that spirals into other things.”
“It hasn’t, it won’t,” I assure Lo. “Donnelly is professional.” With a few more reassurances, I hang up, and I tell Donnelly, “You’re on Loren Hale’s permanent shit list. You’re not getting off.”
He nods a few times. “You transferring me?”
“No. Xander wants you on his detail, and Loren doesn’t want you to leave. But you need to tone down the buddy-guard routine. Just do your job. Don’t take him to Wawa anymore.”
“He wants to go, though.”
I sigh. “Just try not to influence him.” It might be hard because Donnelly doesn’t seem to be doing anything. He’s just cool in the eyes of Xander Hale.
I pick up my beer mug. “Before the meeting ends,” I tell them, “I want to say cheers to your Omega lead.” I gesture to Thatcher who starts to smile.
Banks, Quinn, Donnelly, and Oscar pick up their drinks.
“Congrats to Thatcher, for being the second bodyguard to do the impossible and be with American royalty. Can’t wait to be there and see you cry as Jane walks down the aisle.”
Everyone laughs.
“Thanks,” Thatcher smiles more, swigging his drink with the rest of us. But as the liquid slides down the back of my throat, I realize a third bodyguard is going to do the impossible and be with another American princess.
I’m just not sure who it’ll be anymore. Me or Banks. Any way I turn it, it feels like a total tossup.
42
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
October 30th. Hallow Friends Eve. The day I fucking finally free-solo.
Yesterday, the weather cleared for my final practice run, and I breezed through the route. Every handhold, every path to the top is engrained in my mind. So much so that I could climb Rattlesnake Knuckle blindfolded.
There is only one thing left standing in my way today.
The asshole climbers.
I thought we shook off Team Apex, but they’re back. And they’re placing foldout lawn chairs about a tennis court away from the base of the crag. Close enough that I’ll be able to hear their jeers and heckling while I climb.
I dip my hands in my chalk bag. Standing at the base of the crag, I try to ignore Team Apex and mentally focus.
This is it.
The last day that I can possibly free-solo in the Yellowstone region this year. The last day that we’ll even be here. Grand Teton will have to wait for another time. A cold front is rolling into Montana and Wyoming, and more than the winter conditions, we have to drive back to Philly for the wedding on November 1st. We leave tonight with plenty of time.
I seriously cannot let Team Apex distract me. If I bail today, there’s literally no other opportunity to complete my goal before next year. I don’t want to stall. I feel like all I’ve been doing is stalling out of safety, and I just want to climb.
Besides the unwanted campers, only Akara and Banks are my spectators. I called Moffy this morning because I honestly wasn’t sure if the weather would hold up enough. And I didn’t want him to fly back here just for me to pull the plug. He understood, but I could tell that he wishes he were with me.
It made me feel good that he’s still thinking of me. That being physically away again hasn’t wiped me from the minds of the people I love.
I chalk my hands another time.
Akara and Banks whisper behind me, and my stomach does twists and turns whenever I remember the end of the trip will mark the end of whatever we’ve been doing. And I’ll ultimately have to decide between them.
Concentrate, Sulli.
I smack my hands together, chalk pluming. I shake out my arms, then realize they’re both fixated on Team Apex.
Akara catches my wrist. “Wait before you climb, Sul.”
I frown. “What’s the plan?”
“We kick their asses,” Banks tells me strongly. “Then you climb that big rock.”