Parker places his hand on my arm, ushering me out of the way of a couple trying to get onto the path, and the action brings me back to my senses. A climb up slippery rocks brings us closer to the natural wonder, and despite the danger, a large grin takes over my face. Water splashes up to meet us, and I understand the need for the raincoat.

I stick my hand out, letting it become submerged in the downpour, which splashes onto my face and hair, drenching both instantly. Parker watches me, his amusement clear. I’m confident I’m acting like a complete child right now, but I don’t care. In this small, inconsequential pocket of time, I feel like I’m truly alive rather than just going through the motions.

It’s only when we’re back on the trail—me with dripping hair, him with a damp hat—that the adrenaline fades. The air has cooled down significantly, especially when we’re in the forest without the help of the sun, and the fact that I’m soaked to the bone doesn’t exactly help. But it was totally worth it.

“Did I come here a lot?” I ask, trying to keep from shivering, exhaustion beginning to weigh heavily in my bones.

“Sometimes people throw parties here in the clearing,” he explains. “And I know your dad used to take you all the time, but I don’t think you’ve been in a while.”

“Where is he? No one has mentioned him.”

He gives me a sympathetic look over his shoulder as he shrugs. “Don’t know,” he remarks. “They don’t talk about him much. All I know is that he left a long time ago.”

Parker is quiet for a while. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I never should’ve come up to your room that night.”

The words are sobering, causing any progress we might’ve made in the past hour to dissipate.

“We could have started over,” he laments. “It would’ve worked out perfectly. You wouldn’t have remembered me. Things would’ve been the way they’re supposed to be.”

I don’t say anything for a while, wondering if I should respond at all. But the pain in his voice makes some of my anger melt away. It’s an internal battle that feels familiar, like I’ve already fought and been defeated. “We can’t change the past,” I tell him. “But we can make sure it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah,” he says, voice low as he sticks his hands deeper into his pockets before looking up. “We’re almost to the car.”

Just like that, the subject is dropped, and neither of us says a word the whole way home.