5 Rolling Hills and Bobbing Boats

Rolling Hills and Bobbing Boats

Savannah

I T SEEMED IMPOSSIBLE.

I stood at the bottom of Helvellyn Fell, surveying its massive size with my eyes. It stretched higher and higher up until its peaks disappeared in the low-hanging clouds. I couldn't even see the top, and they expected us to climb this? The day was—thankfully—dry, but the ground was crisp underfoot as the winter frost kissed the blades of grass that blanketed the uneven ground.

As I exhaled, my breath turned to white smoke and my lungs burned as I inhaled the frigid English air. A man named Gordon was our guide. An ex–British Army sergeant who would lead us over the next several days up and down the Lake District's three famed peaks.

I wasn't exactly athletic. Nothing about this appealed to me. But I was here, and I was introverted enough that I wouldn't put up a fight.

Ida's face popped into my head when I felt like backing down, and I took a deep breath and tried to psych myself up for the task ahead.

I had to try. For her, I would.

That was fast becoming my mantra.

I was wrapped up in layer upon layer of thermal clothes, with gloves, a hat, and a scarf that also covered half my face. It was freezing, but so far, I was warm enough to cope.

"Everyone ready?" Gordon asked.

I nodded like everyone else, and then we began our ascent up a steep set of jagged stone steps. After I climbed just a few, my thighs began to burn. Gordon raced up them like he had been here a million times—he probably had. Mia headed up the group, Leo pulling up the rear. Dylan walked next to me, seeming to find this walking in the moors easier than I was. Travis and Cael were behind us, with Lili and Jade up ahead with Mia.

Halfway up, I glanced behind me. Cael was climbing the steps with ease, not even a flush of exertion on his face. I had no idea why he hadn't passed Dylan and me to take his obvious place at the front. Travis was clearly finding it hard, but Cael stayed beside him, eyes focused on the top of the steps. Until he looked at me, and I quickly faced forward again. Just by looking at him, I couldn't help but replay yesterday in my head. In the living room. When he had jumped from his seat and thrown his journal into the fire, when he had challenged Leo and Mia. He was so angry. It seemed to pour from his every cell. Yet there were moments. Short, barely there moments where he caught my eye and his hostility disappeared and left the ghost of a sad and vulnerable boy in its wake. Only for it to capture him once again and bury him beneath high flames.

And yesterday … Cael had met my eyes in my moment of sadness. When that journal was placed in my lap and I began to break. He had seen me begin to fall apart, and the understanding I saw in his silver-blue depths reached out to me. Like for a moment, he just … got me.

The journal was designed to give me a place to talk to Poppy. To tell her how I'd been since she'd been gone …

My heart twisted just recalling the sheer terror that had sent through me. Because I could only tell her how I had failed. How I had crumbled. How life without her seemed pointless. How, after she died, something within me had collapsed, shattered my heart and soul into so many pieces it was impossible to ever glue them back together. That when she took her last breath, all my joy for life left too. That I had held her hand so long after she died that her fingers had been molded into a clutching position when I was finally forced to let her go.

And I would have to tell her that I had let her down. That I had failed her so badly that it had impacted everyone's life around me. Ida, Mama, Daddy … I had no friends, no life, and I was scared.

I was petrified that I would never be able to let her go. That this would forever be my lot—

Suddenly, my ankle overturned, and I stumbled on one of the many cracked and uneven stones. I felt myself begin to fall back. Dylan turned just as my heart dropped, but he was too far away to catch me. Then, just as I feared I was about to crash to the ground, strong arms took me in their hold and kept me standing. I scrambled to grip on to the black sleeves of a jacket, and I knew exactly who had caught me the moment I smelled that familiar scent of sea salt and fresh snow.

"I've got you," Cael said quietly, when my boot slipped once more on the icy ground, and I tried to find my balance. His voice sent shivers down my spine, ones that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures and everything to do with the closed-off boy from Massachusetts who held me tightly in his arms.

And I felt he did have me. In his arms, I felt safe.

My racing heart began to slow as Cael righted my feet and steadied me on the step above him. I closed my eyes and managed to ward off my panic, then turned to face Cael. It took me a moment to realize that his hands were still on my waist. I swallowed deeply when I met his eyes. I was a large step up from where he stood, and he was still considerably taller than me. He was wearing a black beanie, but a few strands of his dark, messy waves escaped to fall over his striking silver-blue eyes.

"Thank you," I said, and Cael searched my face. I didn't know what he was looking for, but I felt my cheeks begin to burn under his attention. This time, my heart was racing for an entirely different reason. A feeling I wasn't used to.

He cleared his throat. "Are you hurt?" he asked. His New England accent was strong—thick enough to rival my Georgian. I was so struck by him talking to me softly that I didn't answer him.

But then he pushed. "Savannah?" Cael speaking my name brought me back from my wayward thoughts and grounded me again.

"Savannah? Are you okay?" Leo rushed to us and stopped beside Cael. Cael never took his eyes off me.

Dylan rushed to my side, and I caught everyone watching. I felt Cael's hands on my waist tighten slightly as the others pulled my focus.

Feeling my face burn from all the attention, I said, "I'm fine."

Cael began to bend down, and I swallowed as a strand of his dark hair brushed over my cheek. It smelled of mint. He checked my ankle, his large hands wrapping around my boot, testing the flexibility. There was no pain.

Embarrassment seemed to be my only injury.

"That okay?" he asked gruffly as he bent it left and right, making slow, careful circles.

"Yes," I said, voice hoarse.

"You sure?" Leo asked, concern on his face. I wouldn't be the reason the group couldn't carry on.

"I promise," I said. It was true. I had been too caught up thinking of Poppy and lost my footing. Thoughts of Poppy often made me lose concentration.

"Okay, then let's keep going," Leo said.

Cael released my ankle, and I felt a cold breeze wrap around me at his absence. He stood again then, rocking on his feet, like he was debating something in his head. Then he offered me his arm. "Do … do you need help the rest of the way up?"

I didn't answer with words. They escaped me at that moment. Instead, I carefully threaded my arm through his and let him walk beside me as we caught up to the others, who were waiting for us at the top. I tried to ignore the light fluttering of wings in my chest that his offer brought.

Dylan flanked my other side. When I felt his stare burning into me, I turned, only for him to subtly nudge his head in Cael's direction and gave me a bewildered expression. I knew Dylan only liked me as a friend; he'd given me zero romantic vibes. And he clearly found Cael helping me as surprising as I did.

I hadn't had many friends in my life. My sisters were always my everything. But I had felt an instant connection with Dylan. He was sweet. And funny. And I was pretty sure he was a complete lost soul, just like me. Only his bubbly personality awarded him a better facade, and his suffering was successfully disguised.

Cael's arm was strong under mine. He didn't say anything as we climbed. But our shared silence didn't feel strained. It was … nice . Peaceful. I'd always been quieter in nature. I didn't need noise to fill any kind of void.

But this, to be serenely silent with another person, was a blessing I wasn't expecting on this trip. People always wanted to talk. It seemed Cael shared my preference for silence.

When we reached the top step, any cold I had been feeling from the harsh wind and low temperatures had vanished, and a sheen of sweat covered my forehead.

I fought to cool down, to catch my breath, my thighs screaming in exertion.

"Are you okay?" Lili asked me. Jade and Mia listened in too.

"Yeah, I promise. I just slipped."

My head was lowered in embarrassment. But then I felt Cael's arm tense underneath mine, a sharp breath escaping his lips. I looked up. I exhaled a quick breath too at the sight before me—the view that had captured Cael's attention. A green patchwork quilt of English countryside stretched before us. Trees of all shades of green and browns, stone walls, and snow-covered bare branches made an oil painting from the view. A mist roiled over the ground, like the sky had lowered to join with the earth for a few sacred hours.

It was utterly beautiful.

"Everyone grab a drink of water, and let's keep going," Gordon said, breaking through my admiration. As I went to take off my backpack, I realized my arm was still threaded through Cael's, holding on like he was my lifeline.

"I'm so sorry," I said, flustered, as I quickly withdrew my arm. I busied myself with my water. When I glanced up, I caught Cael's intense gaze locked onto me, but I quickly ducked my head. My cheeks felt set ablaze. My first thought was that Ida would be screaming in excitement right now, making suggestive comments and egging me on.

She had texted me last night, and Cael had ended up being the subject.

IDA:

How's England?

ME:

Cold and wet, spooky and Gothic. It's beautiful.

IDA:

And what are the others on the trip like?

ME:

Lovely. Hurt. Some quiet and reserved. Others not so much.

IDA:

And what about the tall, dark hottie with the tattoos?

Her question gave me permission to reflect on Cael. I'd heard him outside at the lake. Screaming as he threw things into the water. And then I'd heard his silence. When his fury must have ebbed and another emotion took over. It made me sad.

ME:

Angry

I sent that message but then remembered when he'd turned to me in the room and only desolation remained in his pained eyes. Just for a second, but it had been there. A second of his tattered, exposed soul.

IDA:

It happens. Remember Daddy was real angry for a while

I recalled Daddy after Poppy had passed. He was so mad at the world for taking his baby away. It was awful seeing him that way, but I knew the man who lay underneath. I knew that hotheaded man wasn't who he was in his soul and that he would return to us again. Maybe … maybe the Cael who'd met my eyes in the living room was a short glimpse of the lost boy beneath.

IDA:

He may need a friend. Someone to be there for him while he gets through it. Someone who understands

I stared at Ida's message. My pulse raced at that obvious suggestion.

ME:

Maybe

IDA:

Keep me informed on the climb! I can't believe they have you scaling mountains!

I smiled at the memory of Ida's messages as I drank in the idyllic view before me. She was such a romantic. Always seeing the good in people. Then I immediately thought of Poppy. She would have said the same about Cael too. Poppy was a helper. She would have taken one look at Cael and would have made it her mission to help him, help him through the pain he was so clearly feeling. She did that for me so many times growing up.

For a moment, that thought filled me with a heady kind of lightness, remembering her that way. How much she'd adored her family. How intensely she'd loved us all, loved the world. How much she'd loved Rune—right until her very last breath. But like on most days over the past four years, that happy thought soon turned into the gut-wrenching memory of seeing her on that bed, looking out of the window, broken and frail, death looming over her, breathing labored.

Any heat the climb had brought to me was quickly washed away by a spear of ice chasing down my spine. With shaking hands, I pushed my water bottle away and closed my eyes.

Just once … just once , I wanted to think of her and not feel beaten, not feel bruised. I wanted to remember her as she used to be—perfect, joyful, full of life. Not sick or sad or fighting to remain positive when there was nothing but tragedy awaiting at the end of her story.

Remembering her on her deathbed haunted me. It would wake me up in the middle of night. And every time I awoke, for a split moment, I would always believe I'd only had a nightmare and that Poppy was in her room, safely tucked up in bed.

Then I'd remember, and I'd lose her all over again. I lost her repeatedly, each morning when I woke and had to be reminded that she was gone. Every significant moment that happened to me, I would want to tell her. Every song I knew she'd like, and she wasn't here to hear it. Every piece of classical music I heard, and picturing her with her cello, eyes closed, head swaying, completely lost to the melody.

For four years, I hadn't watched an orchestra live. That was Poppy's stolen dream, and it felt like it would be a betrayal to watch one. I could barely listen to classical music without crumbling.

It was one of the worst things, I thought, when you lost someone. Having good news to share, and for a second—just one borrowed second of peace—being excited to tell them. Before reality inevitably crashed down, and you were reminded that you would never tell them anything again. And the good news you wanted to share suddenly didn't seem so exciting anymore. In fact, it felt like a stab in the chest, and you no longer looked forward to anything significant happening to you ever again.

A loved one's death wasn't a onetime thing that you had to endure. It was an endless cycle. A cruel Groundhog Day that burned away at your heart and soul until there was nothing left but scorched flesh where they once had been.

I shook off my hands when they began to tremble. I inhaled slowly, deeply, the cold air reminding me of where I was. The uneven earth beneath my feet crunched on the icy mud. I needed to walk. To move. To cast off this gutting feeling that was closing in. I almost fell to my knees in relief when Gordon began to lead us on.

For the first time in my life, I wanted to walk. I wanted to walk and walk until I couldn't think. Until my muscles were so sore and exhausted that I would fall into a restful sleep.

Just for one night.

"Slow down, ranger," Dylan said, jogging to catch up with me. I didn't. I pushed on, chest tight from how fast I was breathing. I kept my attention focused on the route before us. Everything around me was still and calm, my rapid breathing the only thing I could hear, until, "Jose would have loved this." Dylan's words were barely above a whisper, but I heard it, the whistling wind carrying it straight to my ears.

I slowed down and looked over at my friend. His eyes were downcast, and his hands were in his pockets. He flickered a nervous gaze to me, then said, "My best friend." He shrugged, like whatever he was going to say was trivial. "He's who I've lost. Why I'm here." It wasn't trivial at all. It was monumental. The most important thing.

"I'm so sorry," I said and saw that he had paled, his beautiful face crumpled in sorrow. Dylan forced his infectious smile, smothering the inner sadness that I could see was screaming to be released.

Silence stretched between us. Dylan's shoulders curled inward, and I felt a distance growing between us. I was terrible at this. At comforting others. At saying the right things. My heart tore apart for him. But I didn't know how to make it better.

Poppy was a helper … be a helper …

Dylan cast his gaze around us, at the lake down below that now appeared minute from this far away. I knew he was thinking of Jose. His eyes shimmered, and I couldn't take it anymore. Reaching out, I threaded my arm through his and pulled him close. Catching a hitch in his breath, and an extinguished sob, I laid my head against his shoulder and tried to show without words that I was there for him.

The wind caught a falling tear from my eye and carried it into the air. I didn't know Jose. But I was beginning to know Dylan and how special he was. So I knew Jose must have been special too.

"As special as special can be …" I heard Poppy's voice whisper into my ear, and that memory wrapped around me like a warm blanket. She'd want me to be there for others. To open myself up to them too.

I wasn't a tactile person, but Dylan's breathing seemed to come easier as I held him. Somehow, it made me feel better too. Sharing in one another's pain.

"He loved being outside," Dylan said. He laughed, and it was so pure it took my breath away. "He was always dragging me from my house and outside with him. Basketball, baseball, hiking, football. You name it, he wanted to do it, watch it, experience it." I squeezed him tighter so he knew he could continue if he wanted to. I was a good listener.

Dylan laughed, then said, "There was one time, we—" His laughter abruptly faded, and I heard that heart-wrenching sound that told me his throat had clogged, taking away his voice from the slam of a memory. A surprise attack from grief so strong it could drop you to your knees. I knew that good memory of Jose had been hijacked by one that was tormented. Dylan lowered his head, and he gave himself over to his agony.

Unsure what to do, I almost stopped and told Mia and Leo that we needed to turn back. That Dylan was hurting and needed some rest. But then Cael passed by us, and only for our ears he said commandingly, "Keep walking." He nudged his chin in the direction of Gordon, and I saw a flicker of sympathy for Dylan cross his handsome face. Cael stayed just a hairsbreadth in front of us. He glanced over his shoulder, like he was trying to not speak to us, to not engage. But then his shoulders sagged in defeat, and he said, "It helps. Just … keep walking. Push through. Exhaust the pain. Don't give it room to breathe."

Cael's eyes were haunted, and like me, I knew he'd been here before too. I imagined we all had. The triggers were awful. How a seemingly okay day could turn into a nightmare just by a familiar scent passing by, a memory resurfacing, or a million other things that made you remember your loved one was gone.

Grief was walking through a minefield with no protection or guide.

So we walked. With my arm through Dylan's, and Cael staying close by, we walked. We scrambled up gravel paths and carefully navigated a treacherous route called Striding Edge. We ate our lunch overlooking breathtaking views, then descended what had originally felt like an impossible climb.

When we reached the bottom, red faced, chill-slapped, and breathless, Leo said, "Turn around, guys." We did, seeing Helvellyn lording above us once more, looking both majestic and domineering. "Look what you've just accomplished," he said, and his words penetrated deep. "You climbed this. Even when I'm sure you didn't think you could." I exhaled a long breath and felt a bloom of pride burst in my heart. We had done it. I had. "Now, let's get back to the hostel and warm up."

I sat beside Dylan on the bus home, my arm again linked through his, hands held tightly. He didn't talk again that evening, but he held my hand in his like a vice. Cael sat on the seat across the aisle, his headphones firmly in place. But like he felt my gaze, he turned my way. "Thank you," I mouthed. Cael's nostrils flared, and he curtly nodded his head in acknowledgement. Then he turned away, posture once again rigid and sealed off.

As night fell, I stared out of the window. We had done it. We were broken, and exhausted, and emotionally drained. But when we returned to the hostel, something inside of me had calmed. The oxygen that gave my grief life, like it was some living thing that existed inside of me, had been extinguished … for a little while, at least.

And I fell asleep. No nightmares. No insomnia. Just sleep.

I'd never been more thankful for a night of complete and utter silence.

"How did you all find yesterday?" Mia asked. Leo and Mia had gathered us in the living room for a group session. I wrung my hands together. I understood the premise of group sessions, but I never felt they worked for me.

"It was good," Travis said.

"I enjoyed it," Lili tacked on.

Mia smiled. "Good. Soon, we take on peak two: Scafell Pike."

Leo leaned forward in his seat. "But today we have our group sessions, and soon we'll start some one-on-ones. The rest of the day is yours. Maybe, for some of you, a chance to start your journals." Leo carefully regarded Cael, who was sitting, arms crossed and staring outside of the window. I was pretty sure he hadn't been given another one. It was obvious it wouldn't be welcome.

I blanched at the thought of the journal. I was still unsure if I actually could do it.

"Right now, we want to do some breathing techniques," Mia said. "For many, when going through grief, bouts of anxiety can be a common experience." I stared at my fingers, at the clear nail polish that was now starting to chip. "Anger can also be a heady emotion to deal with," Mia continued. "So we want to equip you with some tools to help cope if and when those times arise."

"They are also good for mindfulness," Leo added. "So, please, sit up straight in your seat and close your eyes." I did as they said, straightening my spine. "I want you to inhale through your nose for eight seconds," Leo instructed and counted out loud. "Now, hold that breath for four seconds. Listen to your heart beat. Hear its rhythm in your ears. Then, breathe out for four seconds." My shoulders relaxed a little. "When you panic or are stressed, this can be a great tool to help refocus and control what you feel is uncontrollable."

I placed my hand over my heart and felt it beating underneath my palm. "Sometimes," Leo said. I kept my eyes shut. "When we think of the ones we lost, we can feel powerless, out of control. This exercise can help you feel grounded." At his words, I automatically saw Poppy on her deathbed. Saw her in her casket, laid out in the front room of our house, Mama and Daddy rarely leaving her side, Rune sleeping on the floor beside where she lay. Refusing to leave her until she was lowered to the ground … where he just took up residence instead.

My heart fired off into a sprint at that memory. I could feel anxiety's talons begin to stretch inside of me, ready to take me in their hold, but then I breathed in for eight and held my breath for four. A ghost of a smile pulled on my lips when I heard the pace of my heart and felt it begin to slow, my panic subsiding until I could exhale a normal four-second breath. I had been taught this technique before, of course. But here, it was working . Maybe it was distance from Georgia where I lost Poppy or the peaceful ambiance of the Lakes that made this time help. Maybe I was subconsciously opening myself up to healing. I wanted so badly for that to be true.

"Good," Leo said, and I didn't open my eyes but wondered if he was talking directly to me.

"Another aspect that can be difficult," Mia said gently as she reminded us to keep breathing, "is for those who were there at the time of their loved one's death. Or shortly in the aftermath. Those memories can be disabling. They—"

A loud crash made me snap my eyes open, only to see Cael darting from the room. He had overturned a side table, the water it was holding spilled on the floor. I heard the front door slam, and silence engulfed the room.

Leo and Mia made no move to clean up the water. "Should we go after him?" Travis asked, concern clear on his face.

"We'll give him time to calm down," Mia said. "This will be hard for you all," she added. "You will feel every emotion possible. The stages of grief are not linear. They are cyclical. Anger, denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. They don't have to follow a particular order. You may not experience them all. And for some, one of the stages will have the biggest hold. You may experience all five, then begin them all over again."

"Grief," Leo said, "is a lifelong emotion. People who are forty years into their loss will still experience moments where they are utterly undone. What we aim to do on this trip is help you cope. I'm afraid grief is incurable. But we can learn to live with it. We can learn to find happiness again. To smile and laugh. And there will come a time where memories of our loved ones are more positive than negative. Where we will be able to talk of them again with happiness, not sadness, and remember the good times." He gave a wan smile. "That may feel a ways off right now. But it's achievable. We must let you all get there at your own pace and express your pain in whichever way you need to."

"There are no rights or wrongs here," Mia said.

"Now, let's try that again," Leo said, and he continued the class.

An hour passed and we were given free time. I grabbed the paperback I was reading and headed outside. It was a crisp, freezing day, but the sun was shining and the lake was glass still.

I bundled myself up in my coat, hat, and scarf. I heard the sound of voices coming from the living room but wanted some time alone. I walked around the back of the house, heading for the ledge that I had come to like reading on, when I heard wood scraping on the ground.

As I cut through the tree line to the lake's shore, I saw Cael untying one of the rowing boats from its tether. He hadn't come back inside since he'd left the group session. I knew Mia and Leo had checked on him. But I'd been … worried. Yes. I'd been worried for him. Maybe a part of me had wanted to come outside and read, just to make sure he was okay. He had been there for me a couple of times now. I wanted to return the favor.

Cael was dressed in his black coat and beanie, his messy hair escaping under the hem. His face was flushed, and his body was tense.

I stepped farther forward, and Cael's head whipped up. His jaw clenched as he watched me stand here, but he continued untying the boat.

"What?" he growled, barely looking at me.

"Are you okay?" I asked, heart in my throat. I hated seeing him this way. Seeing anyone this way. Drowning in such obvious pain.

Cael yanked the boat free and tossed the tether to the shore. His boots were in the lake, the water shallow and not yet wetting his jeans. I didn't think he was going to answer me, until he said, "You coming?"

I reared my head back in shock and stared at the boat. He was asking me to go with him? It was a traditional wooden rowing boat. Two oars attached on either side. I stared at the boat like it was an open flame. I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say, yet found myself uttering, "I … I'm not sure we're supposed to use them."

A disbelieving, almost cruel laugh fell from Cael's mouth before it was swallowed by a severe look of ire … and maybe a hint of despondence. "Just when I thought you might be different …" He shook his head, face reddening. "Of course you're not. Why would anyone here be able to understand—" His clogged throat seemed to steal his words before he leveled me with a look so laced with disappointment it physically hurt me. "Just go back to the others inside."

I watched the water cover his legs up to his knees as he trudged the boat out to a deeper part of the lake. He went to jump into the boat, when I found myself saying, "Wait!"

Cael stilled, then turned around. I felt my pulse race, blood rushing through my veins. And I caught what looked like a hopeful expression on Cael's handsome face. It was so raw, so open, so sincere … so vulnerable that it shattered my heart. "I …" I cut myself off, clutching my paperback to my chest. The wind picked up, tossing my hair over my face. "He may need a friend …" Ida's words circled my head. Cael shook his head in frustration and made a move to leave again, when my feet propelled me forward and I said, "I'll come with you."

Cael exhaled a long, deep breath, and in that moment, I understood. He didn't want to be alone. As standoffish as he was, as cloaked in darkness as he was, he was lonely and didn't know how to ask for company.

Cael's eyes narrowed as he observed me. For a moment, I thought he had changed his mind; then he slowly stretched out his hand. Nerves accosted me, but I took a breath, just like Mia and Leo had taught us, and I placed my hand in Cael's. His smothered my own, but his grip was firm, and as he gently drew me closer, he rasped, "Can I?" I didn't understand what he meant, until he placed his hands on my waist, and I realized he wanted to lift me onto the boat.

"Yes," I whispered, his hands on me causing those butterflies to flutter in my chest again. Cael picked me up like I weighed nothing at all. I gripped on to his biceps. He was muscled and lithe beneath my fingers. Travis had mentioned something about ice hockey in the airport. It hadn't gone down well with Cael at all, but that must have been where he got his fitness and athletic physique from.

"Thank you," I said and sat on one of the wooden plinths. Effortlessly, Cael climbed inside. "Your jeans," I said, seeing they were soaked to the knee. It was freezing outside. A flare of panic cut through me. He could get sick. The thought of anyone getting sick these days sent me into a blind panic.

"I'm used to the cold," he said in response, then sat down and picked up the oars. He began rowing, the boat quickly taking us from the hostel's short shore to the wider depths of the vast lake. Other boats milled in the background, tourist cruisers lapping around the perimeter in the distance.

Cael was focused, pushing himself as hard as he physically could. The boat cut through the lake like a hot knife through butter. I held on to the side, the wind picking up in conjunction with Cael's speed. His face was flushed, and his breathing began to quicken. Minutes passed and sweat began to pour down his face. But Cael kept going, kept exorcizing the anger that seemed to live in a limitless stream inside of him.

It made me think of what Mia and Leo had told us about the stages of grief. That for some, one stage held them captive longer. I wasn't sure where I sat. I seemed to feel any of them on a given day.

The farther into the lake we got, the more the beauty of the place became apparent. From this new perspective, the lake looked completely different. Snow-capped mountains surrounded us; bare-branched trees housing thousands of birds stood proudly on small, isolated islands. I closed my eyes and felt the ice-cold wind hit my face. It stirred something inside of me. It made me feel somewhat … alive .

I didn't realize Cael had stopped rowing until the breeze on my face died and I opened my eyes. I swallowed back nerves when I saw Cael was watching me. The anger he was holding on to seemed to have dimmed, and that deep kind of desolation returned to his silver-blue eyes. Seeing me watching him back, Cael removed his beanie and ran his hand through his messy hair. He was rarely without it, and the sight of him hat-free … he was beautiful.

Cael looked out at the people on the other side of the lake. The tourists. Eating ice cream, feeding ducks, booking lake tours. I followed his line of sight. They seemed so carefree. So unburdened.

"What are you reading?" Cael's graveled voice sounded exhausted. I wasn't surprised. He had rowed at a breakneck speed until he clearly couldn't go anymore. But I also knew it wasn't just physical exhaustion that had brought him to this place. Life was exhausting too.

I had been clutching the book to my chest. When I pulled it away, I said, "It's about the Lake poets."

Cael's brow furrowed in confusion. "Who?"

"The Lake poets." I gestured around us. "Famous English poets who came to the Lake District to get away from the hustle and bustle of city living in the nineteenth century. They wanted to live among nature and rest and live a slower-paced life. They wanted a place to be in touch with their feelings."

Cael looked out over the lake again, oars stowed and his arms resting on his legs. He appeared lost in thought, until he said, "I can see that."

I tipped my head to the side, taking advantage of his preoccupation with the lake to study him. Tattoos seemed to cover every inch of him, small gauges in his ears, a lip ring in his bottom lip. I'd only seen him wearing black clothes. Yet even without color, he was stunningly beautiful. One of if not the most beautiful boys I'd ever seen.

"What did they write about?"

I blinked, too lost in studying Cael to process his question. When I didn't say anything in response, he turned to me, resting his chin on his crossed arms.

"Pardon?" I asked, cheeks blazing at being caught studying him.

Cael's eyes seemed to flash with annoyance. "The poets. What did they write about?" It was like he needed something to quickly occupy his mind. Something to take him away from whatever hell kept him trapped.

I could do that for him. "They were the English Romantics. Wrote of beauty, thoughts, and feelings—a bit out there for the time. Some of the most famous poets were Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey." I shrugged. "I guess they were seen as rebels. Shaping what they wanted poetry to be, disregarding the old rules. Using it to express their feelings."

"Do they have any of their poems in that book?"

"They do," I said and turned to one of my favorites by Wordsworth.

I went to hand it to him to read, when he said, "Can you read it?" My heart beat like a drum and heat infused my face. I went to shake my head, to refuse, when he said, "I like your accent." And my thundering heart just about stopped.

"I like your accent …"

I could feel my skin burning with embarrassment, but Cael still wore that devastated look in his eyes, and I yearned to make it better.

So I read.

"I wandered lonely as a cloud …" I read each beautiful line about skies full of stars, daffodils, and waves and marveling at these remarkable sights when pensive and still. And I felt every line. Reciting this poem in the place that was its muse was surreal and beyond a blessing.

When I finished, Cael's attention was fixed on me. He didn't say anything immediately, then rasped, "It sounds just like here."

I smiled and nodded. It was my sentiment exactly. "I'm nearly done, if you want to read it when I'm finished."

Cael stared at me again. And I felt like he was looking for something in my face. I had no idea what. "Thanks," he said.

I shifted in my seat and watched a small motorboat pass us by. A young family was on board. A mama, daddy, and two little kids wearing little red life vests. They seemed so happy and carefree. I remembered those days.

"Do you feel any better yet?" I dared ask Cael.

Cael inhaled a long breath and slowly exhaled. "I never feel better," he confessed, and his voice sounded as splintered as shattered glass. His expression was guarded, and I wondered what it had cost him to reveal that to me. Cael was so formidable, so tall and domineering, intimidating. Yet right at this moment, he seemed so fragile, so broken down by life I wanted to hold him tightly until he felt okay.

My heart fell. Because Cael's simple confession was as raw as my own feelings. I flexed my hand, wanting to reach out and hold his hand, but I didn't know if he'd want that—I didn't think I had it in me to be that bold.

A few silent minutes passed before he asked, "Where are you from?"

The boat swayed soothingly as a larger tourist boat sailed by, causing small ripples to flutter across the lake. "Georgia. A small country town called Blossom Grove."

Cael smiled the smallest and briefest smile, but it was enough to lift some of the gray from the day and let in a little sun. "A real Georgia peach, huh?"

I couldn't stop myself blushing if I tried. He had smiled. He was talking to me and it felt like a blessing.

"He may need a friend …" I decided Ida was right.

"Yeah. I suppose. You're from New England?" I asked in return.

Cael's smile evaporated, his walls building back up. He nodded curtly. "Small town outside of Boston."

I fiddled with the edges of the paperback I was holding. "I'm meant to go to Harvard this fall." I surprised myself with that admission. I didn't know why, but Cael suddenly tensed, and his eyes that had been so open and vulnerable quickly frosted over and took away any vulnerability he was exposing. I watched his body language change from open to defensive, and his usual high walls quickly rebuilt.

"Time to go," he said coldly and took hold of the oars.

Confused, I said, "Did I say something—"

"I said we're going back . I'm done here," he bit out harshly, voice brokering no argument. Chills sank into my bones, and I tried to think of what had just happened. What had set him off.

We didn't speak again as he steered us back. The same edge of frustration had returned to him, and he powered his way to the hostel's shore, just as harshly as we'd rowed out, his demons reattached to him.

When we approached the shore, I saw Dylan sitting on the ledge I liked to occupy. He gave us a wave, and only a couple of minutes later, we docked. Cael jumped out of the boat first, then yanked it all the way in so we were back on the stone-laced sand.

I went to climb out, only to feel Cael's hand fasten tightly around mine. "Can I?" he asked distantly and slid his hands to my waist when I nodded. He carried me from the boat, then placed me softly on the shore. The way he cared for me physically was in direct opposition to the way he was speaking to me. He caught my concerned stare for a couple of seconds, opening his mouth like he might say something, explain, but he then left for the hostel without another word. I watched him walk away, heart in my throat.

"Hey, Sav," Dylan said, jumping down from the edge of the ledge to head my way. I was still staring after Cael. Dylan followed my gaze. "Went rowing?"

I nodded, not wanting to share anything from the past hour. I didn't know why, but our time in the boat felt like it was personal, just mine and Cael's. I'd seen a glimpse of another side to him. He'd … he'd shown me the broken boy beneath the anger, had lowered his shield of fire.

I wanted to help him.

"Seems like a tough guy to get to know," Dylan said, pointing to the door Cael had just walked through. "Can be pretty scary at times."

I looked to my friend. "I don't believe he's dangerous. He's …" I sighed, still feeling confused. "He's hurting," I said and heard the defensive tone in my own voice. I understood that he seemed aggressive and unapproachable—he even did to me. But the way he had been on the boat … so quiet, defeated … it was obvious he was in so much agony it felt visceral.

"I know," Dylan said, a hint of guilt in his voice. He shuffled his feet. "Travis said Cael played hockey." I knew that. But Dylan said, "Like, high level hockey. As in, he was about to go pro, or at least he could have. At the very least he'd have been going to college to play, then on to the NHL. Played Junior Hockey for Team USA. He was their superstar." Pieces of Cael's scattered jigsaw began to fit together.

"I'm used to the cold …"

A wave of protectiveness washed over me. "I'm not sure Travis should be sharing Cael's story." Dylan seemed taken aback by the harsh edge to my words. I was too. But I meant them. Our stories were ours to share when we were ready.

"I think Trav's just a bit starstruck," Dylan said, carefully. "Travis is harmless, Sav. Chatty and has no filter, but harmless." Dylan tipped his head in the direction Cael had just gone in. "When Travis said Cael was good, I think that was an understatement. Apparently, he smashed every known record for his age group and even some beyond. By the sound of it, he was the most promising hockey star the junior league had seen in years. Then he just … stopped playing."

A knowing edge hung on Dylan's last word, and it became clear to me that Travis knew exactly why Cael had stopped playing, knowledge he'd relayed to Dylan. But I didn't want to know. If Cael ever wanted to tell me why he was here, why he'd stopped playing hockey, I wanted him to decide that.

"I'm going inside to read," I said, changing the subject. Dylan seemed frozen and unsure if he had upset me. He hadn't. But I was feeling … protective of Cael. I didn't think too much about why. "Are you coming?"

Dylan smiled in relief and threw his arm around my shoulders, then led us inside, chatting about anything and everything. We settled in the living room. I read about the poets by the roaring fire, Dylan, Travis, Jade, and Lili watching and rating British sitcoms on TV.

Night drew down, stars spattering across the sky, and I closed my now-finished book. I got up to head to bed, when I spotted Cael in the hallway's alcove, sitting in the cushioned window seat, arms crossed over his chest, headphones on and staring out of the window.

I walked over to him and carefully placed my hand on his arm. Cael turned and abruptly pulled his arm away. He glared at me for a second, before I saw his gaze soften a bit when he realized it was me.

He pulled his headphones back and said, "What?" He wasn't being harsh to me. Rather, he sounded exhausted, gloomy.

I handed him the book. "I've finished," I said. "It's really good."

He stared at the offered book like it was a live grenade. I saw the battle play out on his face on whether to accept it or not. It was clear he fought some kind of war within himself. But then he met my eyes and his shoulders lost all tension. He held out his hand and carefully took the book from me. "Thanks," he whispered and turned back to the window. I took that as my cue to leave.

I was almost at the door when I heard, "Night, Peaches." The surprise that unexpected nickname brought to my chest was so strong it felt like it had left a mark. I turned to see a haunted yet kind expression on Cael's face; then it quickly disappeared.

"A real Georgia peach, huh …" he'd said that on the boat.

"Night, Cael," I said, voice a little bolder, and drifted up the stairs, for once letting my heart race. Because this time, its too-fast beat actually felt … nice.