Day 28:
Lancaster
2,132 Miles To Go
Belle
The next few days are a blur of tan dirt and green bushes as we travel through the Angeles National Forest toward the Mojave Desert crossing. The guys open up, as if Grinder letting me know his real name was the last barrier to their rule about talking about home.
“I’ve got three sisters. Two older and a younger one,” Bats tells me during the afternoon stretch the day after Agua Dulce. “So I heard, and dealt with, all the shit they were going through. With the younger one, me and the guys made sure she stayed safe from all the assholes.”
“Didn’t hurt that you were sixty pounds heavier than any of them,” Nova adds with a playful punch.
The next day, we stop to take photos when we reach the five hundred mile mark while hiking down a dirt road. The guys find me a rock to celebrate, and we gather around for pictures. As we take a break for water and jerky, Grinder confides, “Sometimes I think about all the typical stuff kids do during the summers when they’re in high school. But I had some extraordinary trips during those summers. Brazil. Colombia. Central America. And I’ve met some incredible people. Not unlike this trip.” He flashes me a warm smile as he says this, and I can’t help but blush a little.
“Can’t argue with that,” Bats says with a wink. My cheeks grow warm. Must be the sun. There’s no shade along this stretch.
The next morning, I’m leaning into Nova, his arm around my shoulders, still half asleep as we dig into our breakfast. “Birthdays have never been a big thing,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Growing up in California, most of my friends were the people I hung out with on the beach. So I’d go there for my birthday. Hit the beach, catch some waves, call it good. You know? Once I moved to New York, these guys”—he tilts his head toward Bats and Grinder—“keep trying to give me a good birthday, but I’ve always thought it was more about who you’re with than what you do. I know you two are probably planning something, but it’s already a great day.” He squeezes me against him, making it clear I’m part of the reason it’s going to be a great day.
Grinder has his poker face on. It’s the corner of Bats’ lip curling upward for a moment, which makes me certain they do indeed have something special planned for Nova.
That’s okay. So do I.
***
With only ten downhill miles to reach our destination, we take our time. Sweeping vistas of the Mojave Desert below promise hot days to come, but there’s a shower and a bed calling to me, keeping my feet going. As we cross Oakdale Canyon, I draw close to Nova, taking his hand in mine and giving it a squeeze.
He turns to me with a gentle smile. “Hey, you. What’s up?”
“We’re crossing the San Andreas again,” I tell him.
He chuckles, then asks, “Do you want to stop for another rock?”
Memories of our first pass through the rift zone come to mind. Of Nova gently laying his stone in my hand. It’s packed next to the piece he picked up for me from Vasquez Rocks. And once again, I don’t know how I possibly thought Nova could be anything like my asshole ex. I was ready to assume the worst about one of the best guys I’ve ever met. It’s time I put Bryce behind me for good, and Nova is just the guy to help me. I laugh, shaking my head as we keep going. “No. I don’t need any rocks today,” I say with a smile and a tone I hope conveys what I do need. The wicked grin and heated gaze he gives me in return tells me he’s happy to help.
As we reach the last flat roadside mile, Nova and I walk hand in hand, sharing an occasional glance, a chuckle, and enjoying the simple pleasure of being with each other. Behind us, Bats chuckles. “Get a room, you two.”
Nova leans in close to whisper, “Sounds like an excellent suggestion to me.”
My skin pebbles with anticipation. It sounds like an excellent suggestion to me too.
A few minutes later, we make our way up a driveway onto private property, the sound of laughter welcoming us. A dozen little cabins made up like a Wild West town line the perimeter of the property. On the porch of one, a half dozen hikers are reclining in chairs and a couch, waving at us as we approach.
Bats, Nova, and I join them as Grinder heads up to the main house to get us checked in. The hikers are a mixed group of section and thru-hikers resting up and preparing to cross the desert. I recognize a few of them, having crossed paths once or twice along the way. We make small talk while we wait. Where is everyone from? How’s your trip been? How far are you going?
Grinder returns a few minutes later with a handful of keys. He hands them out, pointing to the related cabins. “Bats, you’re with me. Princess, you’ve got your own cabin. Nova, happy birthday. You get a full-size bed for the night.”
Nova turns with a wink and a wicked grin. “You know . . .”
Bats grabs him by the collar to drag him away. “Yes, she knows. But, Bro, you need a shower, and Belle looks like she could use a nap.”
I laugh as Bats drags Nova away. But he’s right. I’ll be dead on my feet tonight if I don’t get a few winks. Which won’t do at all. I have plans for the birthday boy, after all.
***
After a good nap and a hot shower, I’m refreshed and ready for a great night. Leaving my cabin, I find Bats sitting on the porch of the cabin he’s sharing with Grinder. When he notices me approaching, he pulls his earbuds out. “How’s the Stephen Hawking book?” I ask, taking the seat next to him.
“Oh, um, good,” Bats answers, turning his phone off and stuffing it in his pocket. He shifts a little in his seat. “What’s up?”
I eye the big guy with curiosity, but let it go. “So, are you two going to tell me what you’re planning for Nova’s birthday?”
“Planning?” Bats replies, the corner of his lip turning up. “Why would we be planning something?”
I cast a sideways glance at him. “Is that bullshit I’m smelling? I think it is.”
Bats laughs, then turns as a truck comes up the driveway, heading for the residence at the center of the large lot. “Come on,” Bats says, climbing out of his seat and offering me his hand. I take it, trying not to notice how gentle his touch is as he pulls me up. “You can help us with what we’re not planning.”
I laugh as I link arms with Bats as he leads me toward the truck. When we reach it, Grinder climbs out of the passenger side, thanking the driver.
“Got everything?” Bats asks as we get close.
Grinder grins as he circles to the back. He drops the tailgate and steps aside. There are cases of beer and soda next to a half dozen bags. They hold an assortment of chips and salads to go with a mountain of hot dogs and buns. “Should be enough for everyone,” Grinder tells me, passing Bats a few cases of drinks. “Plus, there’s cake up front.”