Page 93 of When the Stars Rise

He nods in agreement. “Sure is. Must have a six-foot wingspan.”

“Fast divers too,” I comment. “They can get up to about a hundred fifty miles an hour.”

We’re sitting on the steep bank of a river, taking a water break along the hiking trail.

I should have known my dad would want to do something outdoorsy. He hates being in confined spaces and seeks out nature wherever he goes.

“You always wanted to fly,” my dad says, his eyes following the eagle as it circles the jagged cliffs. “Surprised you’re not working on a pilot’s license.”

I take a drink of water from the bottle in my hand and wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my arm. The sky is crystal blue, and the air is fresh and clean, scented with cedarand pine but the afternoon sun filtering through the trees is strong. “Maybe I’ll add that to my bucket list.”

“You’ve got one of those?”

I do now. “Zeke did.”

“Ahh, right.” We lapse into silence but I can almost hear the wheels spinning in his head. “How’re you doing?”

“Doing good.” I nod a few times, keeping my eyes on the wild river below. “Everything’s great.”

“Huh.” He’s squinting into the distance, deep in thought, and I know something is coming.

“When you were growing up, I spent as much time with you as possible. I used to dread the day when you wouldn’t want to hang out with your old man anymore. I suppose it’s a natural part of growing up. You move on, pursue your own interests, explore the world around you. But when you were a kid, you used to tell me everything. A regular little chatterbox you were.”

I laugh. “I had a lot to say.”

“Yeah, you did. You were so damn smart.” His smile softens his rugged features. His skin has a deep, dark tan from all the time he spends outdoors. Growing up, everyone always said I was the spitting image of my dad. Same shade of dirty-blond hair, same coloring, and similar build. “Always had a million questions. Real inquisitive. I always tried my best to answer them. Even the tough questions… and you asked plenty of them.”

I listen in silence, not interrupting, and wait to see where he’s going with this.

“When I was your age, I never wanted to talk about any of the bad shit that happened in my life. Didn’t wanna face any of it. So I figured if I just kept moving, if I drank enough, got high often enough, and well, we don’t need to talk about the other things I did to forget the bad shit. Guess we all have our own way of dealing with things.”

“Guess so.” I stand and brush the dirt off my shorts. “Do you want to hike the rest of the trail or head back?”

He gives me a long look but stays right where he is. “I want you to sit your ass back down.”

“What’s wrong?” I joke. “Getting tired?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Just want to finish this conversation.”

With a sigh, I sit my ass back down knowing full well that if I don’t, my dad won’t budge from this spot. Darkness would descend and he’d still refuse to move until I sat down and let him finish the conversation.

“I know what you’re doing, Noah.”

Here we go. “Yeah? What am I doing?”

“The same thing you’ve been doing since the summer you were sixteen. Finding coping mechanisms so you don’t have to deal with the bad shit.”

I roll out of my shoulders and unclench my jaw. “I deal with things just fine.”

“Maybe so.” He rests his forearms on his bent knees. “When you were born, I vowed that no matter how hard or uncomfortable it might be, if you ever asked me a question, I would always give you an honest answer. Tell your own truth. That’s what I always said.” He glances over at me. “And I was always honest with you…”

I fill in the blanks. “Until you weren’t.”

“Still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I got over that a long time ago.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not buying it.”