Page 48 of The Quit List
“But…”
I come around to her side of the van and hold out a hand towards her. “Come on, Hol. It’s like, less than a mile. Suitable for all ages and fitness levels.”
“Speak for yourself,” she grumbles, glowering down at her outfit.
I laugh, but she’s got a point. I wouldn’t normally condone hiking in a dress (gives me Laurel flashbacks, if anything), but Stone Mountain is a short one and I have a feeling that Holly—with her spicy, determined nature—could make it up on pure stubbornness, alone. “Promise. You won’t have any regrets.”
And with that, we’re off. Sandals and all.
It’s an easy hike for an experienced hiker like myself, but I keep a slow, steady pace, checking on Holly often. Despite her initial protests about her fitness level and her footwear, she huffs and puffs forward like a steam train, never stopping for breaks or backing down. Even when the hiking trail eventually crosses smooth granite and her gripless sandals prove quite a bit more slippery than the sneakers I’m wearing. She refuses to accept the arm I proffer her, choosing to slip and slide as she scrambles forward.
Stubborn woman.
It brings a smile to my face and I can’t help but think that Holly is so much stronger than she gives herself credit for. That she might often get overlooked because she’s staying confined in a box that she doesn’t belong in.
And maybe that’s what’s happened for her romantically, too. Dylan is kind of an idiot for letting her slip through his fingers, but after briefly meeting him, I sadly can’t say that surprises me.
It only takes us a little over half an hour to reach the viewpoint, and when we get to the top, Holly bends over and puts her hands on her knees, catching her breath. It’s a weekday afternoon, so it’s pretty quiet up here compared to the droves that flock here on holidays and weekends, and I have to appreciate that there is a reason this hike is so popular.
It’s beautiful up here.
I walk over to the edge, taking a moment to look around and soak in the view from our mountaintop vantage point. It’s a clear day, and you can see for miles. Below us, the trees stretch out across the ground until they fade into the distant city.
Holly appears at my side. “Wow. It’s gorgeous.”
My eyes slide sideways towards her. Her face is red and wispy hairs are stuck to her sweaty forehead and honestly… she looks prettier than I’ve ever seen her. “It is,” I agree, a soft smile on my lips as I drink in the enthusiastic, tired-but-happy expression on her face.
She catches me staring, and I quickly rearrange my features into a smirk as I turn towards the view.
“You’re nice to hike with,” I say. “The last person I took out hiking practically clawed the arms off me because she was afraid of getting eaten by a bear.”
Holly throws her head back and laughs. I like her laugh. It’s bubbly and sweet, but with an undertone of straight cackle. “I was wondering how you got those scratches!”
“Do me a favor and when you meet your so-called ‘perfect man,’ don’t cut him to pieces while he’s trying to help you escape a non-existent predator.”
“Noted.” She grins, then puts her hands on her hips. “Now, I’m sure you didn’t take me up here just to see me almost fall flat on my face.”
“No. Not just for that.” I wink at her, and then gesture out to the glimmering Atlanta skyline. “I brought you here for this.”
“For the beautiful view?”
“For perspective,” I reply. “We started all the way down there, and then you did the hard thing—pushed yourself beyond where you thought you could go—and now, you’re up here. And you can see the city in a whole new light. From a whole new vantage point.”
“That’s true.” She looks almost wistful. “I never make a point of getting out of the city on my days off.” She shakes her head. “Yet another thing I should have done more.”
“But that’s the thing. Maybe you’re looking at it wrong. Maybe you didn’t waste your time or miss out on all the ‘shoulds.’ Maybe you learned something through a hard situation that’s brought you to where and who you are today. Made you stronger, or more resilient, or more right for the person who does come along and loves you back.”
She stares at me, her brown eyes flickering as she takes in what I’m saying.
Then, her eyes become shrewd, almost challenging, and I like to see that fire in her. “How do you know so much about this stuff? Are you like some sort of secret relationship guru on top of your bartending and wilderness guiding?”
“Nope.”
I’m just a guy who grew up watching the person he once idolized treat women like total dirt and make them feel worthless.
But of course, I don’t tell Holly that. We’re here for her, not for me.
We share a smile, and then she says, “So what do you suggest I do next, Mr. Dating Coach?”