Emyln

The final customer exits the modernized building, and Hainsey flips the 'OPEN' sign to 'CLOSED.' I lean against the desk, close my eyes, and breathe a sigh of relief. I'm exhausted from the tour today. I keep thanking myself over and over again for staying in shape after I stopped playing hockey.

I open my eyes and look around the building. Hainsey is readjusting the alignment of one of the many mountain bikes that's hanging from a bike rack. There's a determined expression on his face: a crease between his brows, tongue sticking out, and eyes blaring with concentration. All the mountain biking and working outside has tanned his skin, and his cheeks are bruised pink with sunburn. There are also dark half-moons under his eyes that I want to brush away. Ever since I ran into him in my own house, I've noticed that Hainsey has a certain sadness hanging over him. I squint at him. No. Wait. Maybe it's not sadness. It looks more like hopelessness; like he's lost the sparkle that usually resides deep within the alluring grey of his irises. He also doesn't smile like he used to. When he does, I can tell it's forced. How long has he been like this? Did I really cause him this much pain?

I want to bring back the old Hains, the one who was willing to try anything, the killer slap shot, the charming grin, and great sense of humour that could break anyone's frown. I want to kiss him and breathe life back into him. Because this Hains, although he looks healthy, is suffering. He's a broken imitation of the Hains I once knew. Is there a way to bring the spark back? Was I the main cause? Or was it the sum of everything that happened to him? Of everything that should've happened but didn't?

There's a rental helmet that's fallen to the floor just to the left of him and I saunter toward it. I can tell he notices me, but he doesn't say anything. And I wait, wondering if he can feel it too – that pull I've been feeling ever since he strolled into the kitchen on the night I arrived. He probably doesn't. That would be the reason as to why he's always walking away from me or refusing to look me directly in the eye for more than two seconds.

Just as I'm about to walk away from where we keep the helmets, he stands beside me – further than my arm can reach, but it's still something.

He says nothing, and we just stand there. I sneak a quick glance at him. He's staring out the window at the lovely view of the pine forest that spreads in front of us. I can't tell if he's thinking; if he's trying to find the right words to say to me. Deep down he must know that we need to discuss what happened between us. Leaving problems behind, left to rot in the past, is a bad thing to do. I mean, look and my mom and I. I can't let that happen to me and Hains.

"I'm sorry about your parents," I blurt after another minute. It's a stupid thing for me to say, but it's also common ground between us. We both know the level of devastation a divorce can cause. Maybe the very thing that tore our lives apart is what can mend us together again.

Hainsey looks at me, a look of panic on his face.

"I heard what happened – how your dad was cheating on your mom with someone that was a couple years older than us." I shake my head. Stupid stupid stupid. He told me himself! What the hell am I doing? "They're married now?" I continue quickly.

He looks away, biting his bottom lip.

"I had a good conversation with Val about it," I clarify.

He turns to look at me again, frowning this time. "What?"

I shrug. "We just talked about what happened and stuff. It wasn't fair what your dad did to your mom. Just like it wasn't fair what my mom did to my dad."

His jaw clenches. Fuck. What did I say? Is he angry with me now?

"When did the divorce finally go through?" I press.

Hains doesn't speak for a moment, and I wonder if he's ever going to look at me again, but then he sighs. "Two months after you left."

I detect a slight catch in his voice.

"It sucks, doesn't it?" I ask, kicking at an invisible rock.

Surprisingly, he nods his head in agreement. "The aftermath is like a progressive disease – the worst kind you can possibly imagine. It just keeps getting worse until..." He breaks off, shaking his head.

I frown. Something tells me there's more to the story I heard from Val, something that treads deeper than a lying, cheating bastard that left a family behind. Is he having problems at home? I wonder if money is tight. I wonder how his mom is. She was always a sweetheart – the news of her husband leaving her must have been awful. I know my dad was heartbroken when Mom said she wanted a divorce.

"Hains..." I say, trailing off. What is there to say? Without thinking, I reach over and take his hand. At once, he tries to pull away, but I keep holding on, trying to will him to feel the electric current that's pulsing through my nerves right now. I wish he would relax and grip my hand back just as tightly.

But he doesn't.

He grips my wrist and pulls my hand from his.

My arm flops to my side, and I feel the sting of his actions reverberate through my bones. I stuff my hands in my pockets and nod my head, setting my lips into a flat line. Why the fuck am I trying this? Everything I do just pushes him further and further away. The years between us have clearly done more damage than I let myself believe.

Yet I'm not someone that gives up so easily. Beneath all the loathing and regret and time, I know something is still between us.

I walk up in front of him, grabbing both hands this time, and stare him down, channelling the best caring glare I can.

"Is everything okay at home?" I ask softly.

A million emotions pass through his smoky grey eyes before he turns away and laughs – a short, bitter laugh that cuts like a knife because it doesn't sound natural coming from him. "What am I? Some kind of pity party? A project? Ems, it is what it is – the damage is done. You can't do shit. So whatever you're trying to do, stop." He leans a little closer, so close that his breath is hot on my lips. "I've been on my own for the past five years, and I plan to keep it that way. Please, for the love of God, quit this shit. It's not your problem."

With that, he turns away and starts heading to the front desk to grab his wallet and backpack.

I chase after him, cutting him off before he can get behind the chunk of wood and stone.

"Hains," I say firmly. "I want to help with whatever's going on. So do you want me to quit?"

He takes a deep, exasperated breath in. His eyes avert from me to the forest. Finally, he lets the breath go and rests a hand on my shoulder. I shudder under his touch. It's been so long – so long since we've had a full-length conversation and touched. "If you really want to help me, Ems, don't quit. At least not until the month is over. Maybe your mom can find – "

"Then I won't quit," I say.

Hainsey nods. "Thank you. I'll put an advert online next month."

I shake my head. "No. You don't need to. I can stay for the whole summer."

A small frown crosses his lips. "Fine. Okay."

Fine? Okay? Do those words mean I'm on the road to becoming friends with him again? Does he want me to stay for the whole summer? Our eyes lock. It's the first time in the two weeks I've been here that Hainsey has looked me in the eye for longer than two seconds, and my heart feels warmer than ever. But there's one problem: I can't read his facial expression. It's odd and it bothers me. Hains was always open to talking problems out and saying shit like it was. He was renowned for his ability to not sugar-coat the truth. When we were eleven and the boys on our hockey team said it was bullshit that a girl could outskate them, he came back and said that they better start working harder.

The air around us stills as we stand there, staring into each other's eyes, and I get this annoying nervous itch to hold his hand again. I desperately want to tell him how sorry I am, but he eventually tears his eyes away and rounds up his belongings.

When he's standing in front of me again, I feel a rhythmic flutter in my heart and my stomach does flips.

Just as he's about to say what I think is goodbye for the evening, Mom comes walking out from the staffroom with a big smile on her face.

"Hainsey. Emyln," she says. "I've got some good news."

Hainsey and I exchange a confused glance.

"Well, why don't you tell us, Mom?" I say coldly.

Her smile doesn't falter, but her eyes harden. "Well," she says, clasping her hands together. "You know where the cabins are off of one of the black diamond trails?"

Hainsey nods. I stay silent.

"A young group of men want to do the three-day trek for a bachelor party. They've already called in the reservations for the cabins, but they don't know the routes. That's why we've been called up. Next Friday, the two of you are going to lead the tour."

I frown at the idea of biking a black diamond trail and then staying in a cabin while drenched in my own sweat. "That's fucking ridiculous," I say.

"That sounds like a chance for some good money," Hainsey says at the same time.

We exchange another glance.

"Why, Emyln," Mom says, "is it ridiculous?"

The truth is, it's really not. I just don't want to agree with my mom. She's the bitch that started this whole disaster, so why should I agree with anything she does? But I can't tell her that or else she'll accuse me of acting like a child.

"If Ems doesn't want to do it," Hainsey says, "I can do it on my own. Anyway, would you really want your daughter alone with a bunch of men?"

I want to slap him. I'm nineteen-years-old. Older than him by almost two months! I can handle a group of guys.

"You know what?" I ask through gritted teeth. "It'll be the experience of a fucking lifetime."

With those final words, I storm out of the building and onto one of the back trails that connects to the one that leads me home. The frustration keeps building with each step I take.

I know leaving him behind when he needed me was wrong. But why does he have to make it so hard? Why does my mom have to interfere?

I take a deep breath of the musky alpine air, wishing things could go back to the way they were. Everything was so much easier when we were younger. We didn't worry about our futures, money, or our broken families. All we did was enjoy the moment and savour the memories that we created with Rosa and Val. Things were simple.

Our lives just prove how much growing up sucks.

But maybe this three-day trip will be a good thing. There are several ways I could set this up so it works to my advantage. Staying in a cabin with Hainsey would be the best thing to do – we'd be alone with nowhere to run. We'd have to talk.

A plan begins to form in my mind.