Page 7 of Explorer’s Revenge

SIX

WAY

W hen we land on the main island, we head straight for the port and load our equipment onto the seaplane.

We warned them there would be a lot of stuff, and we booked the whole thing out, but it’s still a tight squeeze, especially when you are a big guy.

We make it work, though, and we’ve been in tighter and weirder places when diving or climbing.

Our bodies are used to us putting them to the test, and that’s what makes us feel alive.

The seaplane doesn’t take long to get to the other island, and once there, we check into a hotel for the night.

Leaving first thing tomorrow is better, since we will have the full day to explore.

Honestly, exploring at night is fun, but Wilder wants to make sure this is done by the book.

We have to get good footage but also stay safe.

Aiyaret makes most of the recordings while we explore the little town, not wanting to stay in the hotel—all of us need to stretch our legs.

The town is set in the cliffs with steep steps and ramps leading to higher sections of roads.

It’s filled with incredibly beautiful white houses with the area near the harbor full of shops, restaurants, and a bar or two, but it’s more for locals than tourists.

It truly is a beautiful place, and we climb to the old castle at the top where we take pictures and study the history before heading down to eat something.

Despite the fact that we each have a hotel room, we crash in the same one, spread across the floor, sofa, and bed.

Before Venture, this was how we lived, crammed into tiny, cheap hotels, and now it’s just a comforting habit—a reminder we aren’t alone, especially for Aiy and me who struggle to sleep by ourselves.

Aiy doesn’t like the dark, but for me, it’s the reminder of everything I lost when I dream.

Logan, Rick, and Wild are used to sharing a room, having done so when they were kids, so there wasn’t much adjusting there, even if Wilder complains.

“You are both too big to be in this bed with me,” he mutters, his hands fisted on his hips as he glares at them, stretched out on the queen-sized bed. “One on the floor.”

“Nope,” Logan replies.

“If you want one of us on the floor, then you sleep on the floor, brother. We were here first.” Rick grins at him.

“I mean it, don’t make me drag you. I’m the oldest and in charge?—”

“I’m the oldest and in charge,” Rick mocks, making him and Logan laugh. I duck my head when Wilder starts to glare. When I first joined the team, hearing their familiar, brotherly banter used to hurt.

It hurt a lot, but now it keeps me centered. It’s a reminder of what I lost and what I gained—a family.

“Mer, he’s going to kick your ass,” Aiy deadpans, chewing on the fruit he bought, his legs kicked over the sofa he claimed.

“Nah, he can try, but he’s getting slow in his old age,” Merrick jokes.

“Old age? Old age? I’m thirty-six!” Wilder scoffs.

“Exactly. Soon, you’ll be in a retirement home.” Rick pats Wilder’s leg. “Don’t worry, brother. You’ll still have pussy and adventures in your memories.”

“That’s it!” Wilder snaps, reaching for Merrick, who rolls and ducks out of the way. They chase each other around the small space while we just watch, used to it. Aiyaret continues eating, and I move closer, stealing some fruit.

“Ten on Merrick winning,” I mutter.

“Don’t want your money anymore, Way, but I’ll take the bet for your limited edition, signed Everest poster.”

“Shit, okay, deal,” I reply as we wait to see who will win. Merrick is faster, but Wilder? Well, he’s Wilder.

By the time Wilder has Merrick pinned, I owe Aiy my poster, just like I knew I would. “Okay, now go to sleep,” Wilder orders after kicking Merrick to the floor. “Early morning tomorrow, and I need you to be rested.”

“Night,” I call as I roll to my back on my sleeping bag.

“Night,” Logan and Merrick say in unison, making them laugh as the lights go out. Without a word, Wilder heads to the bathroom and opens the door a crack, enough for Aiy to see, and the tight grip he had on the sofa edge eases.

“Thanks, brother, night,” Aiyaret whispers. Wilder just nods as he climbs back into bed.

Lying in the dark, I find my hand reaching out before I realize what I’m doing and pull it back.

All these years later, I still reach for him like I did when we were kids.

Sometimes in those moments between wakefulness and sleep, I actually think he’s still alive, and then I remember he’s gone and the pain and guilt crash down again.

The other half of my soul is gone, like a puzzle missing one piece.

That’s how I’ve always felt, and it’s obvious to everyone else I’m not a whole person.

Not without him.

Then again, I don’t think any of us are, which is why we travel the world, hoping the more we see and find, the less broken we will be. It never works because what we are searching for can’t be found anywhere but inside.

I always find it hard to fall asleep, as if my mind is trying to stop me from drifting off to that oblivion, but just like every night, I lose the battle and tumble into an exhausted, fitful dream.

“Come on, don’t be such a girl!” I call with a laugh as I reach up, having to stand on my tiptoes to grasp the bar above me.

Without waiting for a response, I haul myself up onto the next ledge before I look down at him below me.

“Come on, chicken!” I make chicken noises, and his expression transforms, just like I knew it would.

He hesitantly takes a step forward then hoists himself up the metal bars, climbing up after me, his movements more careful and unsure.

He just needs to be pushed to do anything — to make friends, go out, speak, and even eat. He’s always been this way, and I’ve always helped him by being outgoing and dragging him with me.

“Mom wouldn’t like this,” he mutters, staring at me with wide eyes. “Why don’t we just go back and play a game?”

“No, that’s boring,” I scoff. “I want to get to the top and pretend I’m a superhero.

” I glance up at the huge tower we are climbing.

We found it a few days ago in the woods, and ever since, I knew I needed to climb it and feel that rush I always get when I do something stupid — something that usually ends up with me getting grounded.

Like last week when I took Dad’s car for a joyride around the block.

“I don’t like heights,” he mumbles.

“You don’t like anything,” I retort, still climbing with him slowly following behind.

When I get higher, I look down to see him hesitating about halfway up.

“Come on!” I yell, and as he goes to reach for the next bar, he slips.

“No!”

“No!” The horror-filled scream rips me from my dreams, and for a moment, I blink, wondering if it was from him in my dreams, but then it comes again. I’m the closest, so I get to my knees and crawl over to Aiyaret, gripping his hand.

“You’re okay, brother. You aren’t there. You’re here. Come back to us. It’s just a bad fucking memory. You’re safe. You’re okay.” His eyes slowly blink open, his body covered in sweat. “Shh . . .” I sense the others drawing closer, offering their support.

“Say it with me: You’re safe. You are with your family. She can’t hurt you anymore. Say it,” I demand, holding his face to force him to look at me.

“I’m safe with my family. She can’t hurt me,” he whispers shakily before he says it again, repeating the words until his voice is stronger. Once I’m sure the lingering fear is gone, I pull him in for a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, voice cracking.

“Never apologize to us. I just wish I could take the fucking nightmare away from you,” Wilder replies, gripping his shoulder.

“Me too, brother,” Merrick says, sounding serious for once.

“We would all bear them for you if we could,” Logan adds as we circle around Aiy, protecting him from the invisible force reaching for him beyond the grave.

“I know,” he whispers, letting us hold him together.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. He always says no, but I keep asking anyway.

When I was younger, my therapist explained how important it was for me to talk about what happened.

She said it would help me, but it never did.

Maybe I’m just too broken, or I didn’t trust her since I’m pretty sure my parents only took me to her to find something wrong so they could get rid of me.

It might work for Aiy though.

I wait for the usually clipped refusal, but he hesitates before shaking his head.

I’m wearing him down. I don’t need to know the details of what happened, since we’d worked it out before he calmly explained some of it.

I won’t pry, but I don’t want him bottling it all up and exploding.

He needs to heal. If anyone deserves to, it’s Aiyaret.

“Okay, will you be able to sleep?” I ask softly.

He swallows and looks away. “Not yet. I’m going to shower, then I’ll try.”

It’s a lie, but we don’t call him on it.

He’s going in there to cry, and there’s nothing we can do but keep proving we are here for him, so we let him slip away.

All of us watch him enter the bathroom before climbing into our beds, but I know we will lie awake, staring at the ceiling as we listen to his muffled sobs.

Our hearts crack with each one, his pain becoming ours until we are one.

Maybe that’s why we all get along so well, because we are all broken beyond repair and instead of doing ourselves in, we throw ourselves into situations where all we have to feel is adrenaline.

That’s the thing about adrenaline, though, and going full speed for so long—eventually the high wears off and you are left in the aftermath.

Then you have to worry because you can’t outrun your demons forever.