Everything Beneath at Jasper Lake
The cold wakes me first, that sharp, thin-air chill that seeps through the insulation of even the best outdoor gear. Then the weight. Hayden’s arm is slung over my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck. And then, unmistakably, the press of his morning wood against my ass, trapped between us under the Cat’s Meow’s synthetic lining.
I shift suddenly. Hayden groans into my shoulder, his hips jerking forward in reflex.
“Mmm. You awake?” His voice is gravelly with sleep, fingers already skating under my shirt.
“Yeah, I’m awake,” I yawn, turning slightly within the confines of the Cat’s Meow. The press of his morning wood is noticeable. I pause for a moment, remembering Brendan in the other tent, just across the clearing, trying to discern any sound from that direction. “Hey, Hayden?”
“Yeah?” he whispers, his lips nuzzling the back of my neck.
“You wanna… get some gluck gluck again?” I ask softly, remembering the intensity of last night in this very bag.
Hayden’s grip on my waist tightens. “You mean…?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “But… not in here.” I glance upwards towards the mesh of the tent, imagining Brendan’s headlamp flickering to life or wondering if he heard us last night.
He stops for a second. “Outside? It’s freezing, Joey.” His breath hitches slightly.
“I know,” I reply, a plan forming in my mind. The image of him shivering but still eager is appealing. “But Brendan’s right over there, and he might wake up too.” I pull away slightly, the coolness seeping into the space Hayden’s body left. “And… I have a thing for you in that Eddie Bauer puffer.” I remember him wearing it all yesterday: the light blue nylon, almost a match for the interior of my old Cat’s Meow.
Hayden chuckles softly against my hair. “You’re such a tease, Joey.”
“Maybe,” I concede, already pulling away the top Cat’s Meow draped over us. “But seriously. Just the jacket.” The contrast of the warm, puffy jacket and whatever else he might (or might not) be wearing underneath… It’s a delicious thought.
He pulls back a little further, a spirited glint in his voice even in the dim light filtering through the tent. “Nothing else?”
I shake my head, even though he can’t see. “Just the jacket. Come on, let’s go before Brendan wakes up.”
I shimmy carefully out of the sleeping bag first, trying not to jostle the whole tent. My legs are cold the second I’m free of the warmth, and I fumble around for the clothes we kicked off last night. I find Hayden’s blue Nike shorts first and slide them back on, the mesh lining brushing against my still-sensitive skin. Then I grab my loose purple Catapoxi fleece and tug it over my head.
Hayden sits up behind me, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his blonde hair a messy halo in the predawn darkness. He’s put on his puffer jacket from last night, the nylon crinkling quietly as he shuffles around me.
I glance over at him and grin. "Told you, just the jacket."
He rolls his eyes but smiles, pulling the zipper up slightly.
Before we crawl out, I reach toward the foot of the tent and grab the packable throw blanket I stuffed back into my pack last night. It’s thin but better than kneeling straight onto cold ground. Hayden watches me fold it under my arm with a curious look.
"For ground cover," I whisper, flashing a quick smile. "You’ll thank me."
He chuckles under his breath, and we unzip the tent slowly, trying not to make too much noise. I peek out first, and Brendan’s tent is zipped up tight: no movement, no light. Good.
We step out into the cold morning air. It bites harder than I anticipated, gnawing at my legs, but I ignore it. I pull Hayden away from our campsite, threading us through a patch of dense trees just beyond where the other sites are scattered. The ground is uneven, cluttered with roots and rocks, but it feels private back here, shadowed and tucked away from the main trail and anything else.
I spread the throw blanket out on a relatively flat patch of dirt and needles, and Hayden smirks at me like I’m some genius. He steps onto it barefoot, his puffer jacket barely brushing the tops of his thighs, and I step next to him, feeling the chill fade a little beneath my feet.
He catches my eye, still smiling a little, his cheeks pink from the cold, and for a moment, it’s just us and the sharp, pine-scented air.
"You’re ridiculous," he mutters, but there’s something tender under it, like he’s already giving in.
I get on my knees and crawl even closer, sliding my hands up under the front of his jacket, feeling the contrast of his warm skin and the slick, cool lining inside.
"And you like it," I whisper back as his erection grows in my hand.
Hayden groans as I take his about 6 inch cock and tuck it inside his jacket, gliding the soft, sensual blue nylon material across his shaft. “Have you ever done this before with your jackets?” I ask.
“No.” Hayden groans as I guide his cock between the folds of his jacket, the blue nylon whispering against his shaft with every stroke. His breath comes in ragged clouds between us, mingling with the scent of pine and cold earth. "Fuck, Joey," His voice cracks as I increase pressure, the puffer material gliding like a second skin over his heated flesh.
I smirk up at him, watching his eyelashes flutter. "Told you the jacket was sexy." My thumb swipes over his tip, rubbing the nylon and down insulation across his cockhead. The contrast of slick fabric and his rigid length makes my dick twitch in my borrowed shorts.
Hayden draws my head closer and he yanks the puffer’s hem up with his other hand, just enough to free himself, resulting in his dick popping back out and ready for me to take into my mouth. I lick it gently, tracing the contours of his head with my tongue. He gasps softly, his hand tightening in my hair as I take him into my mouth. His shaft is already slick with pre-cum, and the taste of him sends a thrill through my body. I swirl my tongue around the head before sliding down, taking more of him in, feeling his cock throb as I suck.
Hayden's knees buckle, and he collapses on the throw blanket, pulling me with him. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, and we both sink to the ground, the cold forgotten as I continue to bob my head back and forth along his shaft, my cheeks hollowing with each suck. His groans echo through the quiet forest, muffled by the fabric of his puffer jacket as he shifts under me.
The sensation of Hayden’s cock pulsing in my mouth is electric as he reaches his climax, the warmth of his cum spreading over my tongue. I swallow as much as I can, but the sudden intensity of it all makes me pull back slightly, spitting out the last bit onto the crumpled throw blanket. Hayden’s eyes are squeezed shut, his chest heaving with the aftershocks of his orgasm, his hand still clutching a fistful of my hair. I watch him, the light blue nylon of his Eddie Bauer puffer jacket stark against the dark blue throw, and I feel a smug satisfaction at having brought him to such a height of pleasure right out here in the open.
Just as I lean in again, running my hand slowly down the slick nylon of Hayden’s jacket, a faint sound cracks through the quiet—something sharp, like a branch snapping underfoot. I freeze, my heart hammering against my ribs. Hayden’s eyes pop open, and we just stare at each other for a second, barely breathing. Another crunch follows, closer this time, and the raw heat between us evaporates into cold panic. Before either of us can move, a figure steps through the trees, and the fragile spell between us shatters like thin ice.
"Jesus Christ," Brendan yells.
I whip my head around, still on my knees, and there he is, mere feet away. In a silver-and-black Buffs practice jersey, black Gymshark joggers, and carrying a roll of toilet paper. His expression is pure, unadulterated shock, eyes darting between Hayden’s half-exposed cock, still splayed out over the puffer jacket and leaking over it, and me between his legs.
Hayden yanks his jacket down — too late.
Brendan blinks. "Uh."
The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. Brendan’s grip on the toilet paper tightens, his knuckles whitening. His jaw works like he’s trying to form words, but nothing comes out.
Hayden clears his throat first, shifting awkwardly on the blanket. “Uh. Morning, Brendan.”
Brendan’s eyes flick down again, to where Hayden’s jacket is still rumpled, then back up to my face. His expression is indiscernible, but his voice is tight. “What the hell are you guys doing up here?”
“We, uh… didn’t think you’d be up yet,” I offer weakly, with my stomach lurching so hard I think I might throw up.
Brendan scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I don’t think I need to take a dump anymore.” Then his gaze darts between us again, lingering on Hayden’s disheveled state. “Fuck, what the hell, guys?”
The forest air turns leaden between us. Brendan's grip on the toilet paper slackens as he takes an abrupt step back, his hiking boots crushing a brittle pinecone underfoot. The sound cracks through the silence like gunfire.
Hayden scrambles to his feet, trying to cover himself with the throw underneath us. "Brendan…" I call to him.
Brendan’s jaw works like he’s trying to form more words, but nothing comes out. Then, finally, a low, rough laugh. "So this is why you’ve been so eager to hang with Joey. How long has this been going on ?"
Hayden exhales sharply through his nose. "Since you and I got back from camping, where you did the same thing…"
Brendan's eyes widen. "That was weeks ago." He looks at me for confirmation, and I nod mutely. The muscle in his jaw twitches. "And you didn't think to tell me. I’m guessing this is why you want to break up with your girlfriend?"
The accusation hangs in the air. A Stellar Jay shrieks from a nearby Douglas fir, its blue feathers flashing in the dawn light like a taunt.
Hayden moves forward, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "It wasn't about keeping it from you. We didn't know what it was yet."
Brendan scoffs, shaking his head. He shifts the toilet paper roll from hand to hand. "Bullshit. You've been sneaking around right under my nose. I thought we were friends."
The morning chill suddenly penetrates my bones. Hayden tries to close the gap between him and Brendan. "Brendan!"
"Don't." Brendan holds up a hand. "Just... don't." For a long moment, he stares at the ground between us, then mutters, "I'm gonna take a piss. Don't follow me."
As Brendan stalks away, the toilet paper roll dangles forgotten from his fingers.
I swallow reflexively, watching Brendan disappear into the trees. The taste of Hayden still lingers on my tongue, souring suddenly. Did I push this wedge between him and Brendan? Did I see an opening after I found out about their camping trip and take it without thinking about who’d get hurt?
Hayden exhales beside me, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck."
"Yeah," I mutter.
Hayden and I stand frozen for a long moment, the weight of what just happened pressing down on us like the cold morning air. Brendan’s footsteps fade into the distance, leaving behind only the rustle of branches and the distant call of a jay.
My throat dry, I take in a deep breath. “We should…get dressed before someone else sees you.”
Hayden nods, his face pale. He grabs the throw blanket from the ground and shakes it off before wrapping it around his waist. We walk back in silence, the crunch of twigs beneath our feet the only sound between us. My mind races: What is Brendan thinking? Is he pissed at both of us? Hurt? Is he gonna bail on the trip?
When we reach the campsite, Brendan’s tent is still empty, his Cat’s Meow twisted on the pad, and its zipper is wide open.
Hayden exhales shakily. “He’s not back yet.”
I nod, rubbing my arms against the chill. “We should start breakfast. Maybe… maybe he’ll cool off and we can talk to him and see what he’s thinking over coffee.”
Hayden doesn’t look convinced, but we both crawl into our tent to put our pants on. I grab the camp stove from my pack, setting it up on the flat rock we’d been using as a makeshift table. My hands are steady, but my stomach is in knots.
What if he’s leaving?
The thought hits me like a punch. Brendan could hike back to the trailhead and leave all the stuff for us to deal with and find our way home.
Hayden must be thinking the same thing, because he glances toward Brendan’s tent again, his brow furrowed. “You think he’s gonna bail on us?”
I shake my head, but I’m not sure. “I don’t know.”
We work in silence, purifying and boiling water for coffee and cartons of hashbrowns. The routine is familiar, but the tension is thick. Every rustle in the trees makes me look up, hoping to see Brendan walking back.
But he doesn’t.
Hayden pours two mugs of coffee, handing one to me. His fingers brush mine, but there’s no spark this time, just worry. “We should go look for him,” he mutters.
I nod, taking a sip of the bitter brew. “Yeah. After we eat.”
Just as I say it, a branch snaps somewhere beyond the campsite. Both of us whip our heads toward the sound.
Brendan steps into the clearing, his expression faint. His Buffs practice jersey is disheveled, his brown hair sticking up in places like he’d been running his hands through it. He stops a few feet away, arms crossed.
No one speaks for a minute until Hayden clears his throat. “We made coffee.”
Brendan’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. He just stands there, staring at us like he’s trying to figure something out.
I can’t take the silence anymore. “Brendan, are you ok?”
"I'm not gonna bail," he cuts in, voice rough. "We drove out here together, we're staying." His boot grinds into the dirt, his jaw working like he’s chewing on glass.
Relief floods through me, but it’s short-lived.
Brendan’s eyes flick between us, his expression hardening. “But we’re gonna talk about this.”
Hayden and I exchange a glance.
Brendan finally moves again, grabbing his mug from his pack. Hayden quickly pours him some coffee. Brendan takes it, but doesn't drink. He just holds it, the steam rising in the cold air.
Hayden tries to explain first, his voice low and placating. “Look, Brendan, it wasn’t… we didn’t mean for you to find out like that.”
Brendan lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, surprise!” He finally meets Hayden’s eyes, and I see a flash of hurt. “Kind of hard to miss, Hayden.” He then turns his gaze to me. “And you, Joey? I guess I’m the one who was the third wheel.”
“We are close, Brendan,” Hayden interjects quickly.
Brendan’s gaze sharpens. “We are? Or are you just… sleeping with everyone you meet now?” The implication hangs heavy in the air. He’s not just upset about what he saw; he feels like his friendship with Hayden has been undermined, and that I’m responsible for it.
I try to explain from my perspective, wanting him to understand it wasn’t about deliberately excluding him. “Brendan, it just… happened between Hayden and me. It wasn’t planned. We’ve been talking, and… things progressed.” I avoid mentioning the specifics of our conversation at my apartment or what I knew about that first sleeping bag, sensing that would only make things worse.
Brendan sets his coffee mug down hard on a nearby rock. “Progressed? While we were all supposed to get to know each other more on a camping trip? Did it ever occur to either of you that maybe I’d feel a little… left out?” His voice is laced with a genuine hurt that resonates more than outright anger. “I thought we were all here to hang out, enjoy the mountains together. Not for some secret thing to be going on behind my back.”
Hayden looks down, shifting his weight. “I was going to tell you, Bren. I just… I didn’t know how.”
Brendan raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. “Oh, really? When were you planning on that? After the weekend? After you finally cut Ava loose?” The sarcasm is biting. “It’s not just about what happened this morning, guys. It’s that you didn’t feel like you could be honest with me. I thought we were better friends than that.”
The weight of his words settles over us, heavier than our backpacks. He's not wrong. We haven't been honest, and his hurt at being excluded from this new dynamic is palpable. The focus isn't solely on jealousy; it's on the broken trust within his friendship with Hayden.
I stare down at the coffee cooling in my hands, unsure of what to say. There’s no good excuse. Not really. Just this tangle of feelings, timing, and everything happening faster than we knew how to manage.
“I’m sorry,” I say, finally looking up. “You’re right. We should’ve said something. We weren’t trying to leave you out.”
Brendan crosses his arms, his jaw working. He doesn’t respond right away.
Hayden takes a step toward him, careful and deliberate, like he’s walking out onto thin ice. “Bren, I value our friendship deeply,” he says, voice soft but steady. “After what happened on our first trip, I had so many questions about myself and how I feel about Ava. I felt ashamed to bring it up with you because maybe we were just drunk. But then I met Joey, and I realized it wasn’t just the alcohol.”
Brendan’s face flickers, just slightly. A twitch in his brow. A tight swallow. Like something in Hayden’s honesty is getting through, even if it hurts to hear.
He exhales through his nose, sharp and uneven. Then, without looking at either of us, he moves to stand. His knee catches the rock beside him, and his coffee mug tips, clattering once before spilling across the pine needles. None of us moves to pick it up.
“I need a minute again,” he mutters, his voice low. “Just… give me some space.”
Without another word, Brendan turns and heads toward the far edge of the lake, his back stiff, shoulders squared like he’s carrying all our guilt with him.
Neither Hayden nor I move.
We just sit there, staring at the still lake water, letting the silence say the rest.
The minutes crawl by like hours.
Hayden doesn’t speak. He just crouches beside the now-empty tin mug, his eyes fixed on the dark patch where the coffee soak into the dirt. I stay seated on the log, cradling my cup even though it’s gone cold. The silence between us isn’t heavy, it’s careful. Like we’re both waiting to see which way the wind will shift.
Every now and then, I glance up toward the trees where Brendan disappeared. I try not to imagine him heading back to the Bronco, his pack already strapped up, tires kicking up gravel on that narrow road out. I can’t shake the guilt twisting inside me, the kind that tastes like burned marshmallows and regret.
Then, finally, I hear it, footsteps. Not fast or angry. Just… steady.
Brendan walks back into camp ten minutes later, the muscles in his face pulled tight like they’ve been clenched the whole time. He’s holding a handful of rocks, which he tosses absently by the stove like he just needed something to do with his hands.
Neither of us makes a sound at first. It’s Brendan who breaks the silence, voice lower than before but more controlled.
“I’m not gonna pretend that didn’t mess me up,” he says, eyes flicking between us. “But I’ve been thinking.”
Hayden straightens. “Okay…”
Brendan meets his gaze, then mine. “You’re right. You didn’t owe me an explanation from day one. And I know I can’t control what happens between you guys.” He pauses. “But what sucks is not being told. Not knowing until I walked into it. Literally.”
I open my mouth, but Brendan holds up a hand. “I get it. Feelings happen. But I felt like I was the only one who didn’t know what was going on, and that sucks when we’re supposed to be friends.”
“You’re right,” I say, before Hayden can. “We screwed up.”
Brendan exhales, shoulders deflating just a little. “I don’t want to argue. I just… need some time to recalibrate. Figure out how to be around both of you without feeling like I’m intruding.”
“You’re not,” Hayden says without a beat. “You’re not intruding, man.”
Brendan gives him a look. Not angry. Just honest. “Let me be the one to figure that out.”
He sits back down on the log opposite us, this time careful to keep his mug upright. He doesn’t ask for more coffee. He just stares out toward the lake, silent again—but not gone.
I take out my phone amidst the silence. Hayden looks over my shoulder at me playing around with my hiking app.
“Is that where we’re going today?” He asks, breaking the silence.
I nod, tilting the screen so he can see better. “Yeah, the continuation of the Diamond Lake Trail to Jasper Lake. It’s about six miles round trip from here, some decent elevation gain, but nothing crazy.”
Hayden leans in a little closer, his shoulder brushing mine. I feel the warmth even through my fleece, but I don’t lean back into him. Not right now. Not with Brendan sitting a few feet away, eyes fixed on the lake like he’s trying not to listen but definitely is.
I clear my throat. “Should take us maybe three hours, give or take? Depends on how long we hang out by the water.”
Brendan finally speaks up, not looking at either of us. “What’s the grade like?”
I glance at him. “Mostly moderate. A few switchbacks in the middle section, but it’s shaded part of the way.”
He nods, fingers drumming once against the side of his mug. “Cool.”
It’s not overly enthusiastic. But it’s something.
Hayden catches my eye and mouths, cool, with a half-smile like he’s trying to keep things light. I don’t smile back, but the corner of my mouth twitches. We all know it’s going to take more than a hike to fix this, but at least we’re still going.
I slide the phone back into my pocket and start packing up the stove. Hayden offers Brendan a Cliff Bar from his pack, and he gladly takes it. The air still feels thick, but it’s moving now, like maybe we’re hiking forward from this, one careful step at a time.
Hayden and I quietly clean up around the stove while Brendan stays seated on the log, sipping the last of the purified water, eyes fixed on the distant ripples across the lake.
Eventually, I zip up the tent after putting away the stove, brushing pine needles off my pants, and glance at the time on my phone. It’s still early. “So,” I say carefully, not quite looking at either of them, “we still down for the hike to Jasper Lake?”
There’s a pause. Hayden nods first, then Brendan shrugs. “Might as well,” he mutters. “We didn’t come all the way up here to sit around like moody teenagers.”
We each pack light, just water, some snacks, and layers in case the wind kicks up at elevation. I stuff my rain jacket into the top of my pack and clip the bear canister closed, leaving it tucked under the vestibule in case we get back late. Brendan refills his water bladder in silence, while Hayden double-checks the trail map on my phone. I throw a glance toward the trail sign behind camp and then back at our little site.
There’s a pair of guys near the lake’s edge, standing knee-deep in the cold water with fly rods arcing above them. They’re older, probably locals, and they’ve got the quiet, practiced rhythm of people who know what they’re doing. I step over to them as they pull another cast through the air, the line slicing clean across the reflection of the treeline.
“Hey,” I call gently, not wanting to startle them. One of the guys turns toward me, smiling behind a silver beard.
“Morning,” he says.
“Hey,” I repeat, a little more confidently. “My friends and I are heading over to Jasper Lake for the morning. Would you mind keeping an eye on our tents? Just in case.”
The guy nods, lowering his rod. “Sure thing. You boys camped just up the way?”
“Yeah,” I say, pointing. “Two tents at the last site.”
“No problem,” he replies with a smile. “We’ll be out here most of the morning.”
“Thanks,” I say, meaning it. I head back toward camp, where Hayden’s got a daypack slung over one shoulder and Brendan is adjusting the straps on his fleece. Neither of them says anything as I rejoin them.
“I got somebody to watch over the tents,” I say, slipping my day pack onto my back.
“Cool,” Hayden says, giving a small nod. He glances toward Brendan. “You good?”
Brendan doesn’t answer right away, just looks toward the trailhead and exhales. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”
And just like that, we head uphill, three sets of boots crunching over pine needles, gravel, and silence.
We’re about twenty minutes up the trail when Brendan finally speaks again.
The sun’s made it high enough now to catch the dew dripping off the lodgepole pines, and we’re walking single file, with Hayden up ahead and Brendan just behind me. The air is crisp, sharp with the smell of wet bark and cold earth. My boots crunch lightly on the gravel, but even the sounds of nature feel muted under the weight of everything we haven’t said.
“So,” Brendan says, and I hear the shift in his tone before the words even hit. “How did this… start? Between you guys?”
Hayden slows in front of me, glancing over his shoulder. I stop too, half-turning to look at Brendan. His face isn’t angry, just calm. Controlled. Like he’s ready to hear the answer even if he doesn’t like it.
I look at Hayden, unsure. Part of me doesn’t want to open this door right now, not with the trees pressing in close and the lake still out of reach. I chew the inside of my cheek, but Hayden meets my gaze and nods slightly, like he's telling me he’s got this.
“It started right after that trip,” Hayden says evenly. “The one where you and I…” He breaks off for a second, then pushes through it. “Where we messed around in the tent.”
Brendan’s jaw tightens just slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.
Hayden shifts the weight of his pack. “I wasn’t sure what it meant after. I thought maybe it was just a drunken curiosity. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you, about what it meant for Ava. We didn’t talk about it, even on the way home, so I thought you didn’t feel the same way.”
He pauses again. I hold my breath, watching Brendan closely.
“And then I met Joey again,” he says. “Back at the rec, then his apartment, we got to talking, and I don’t know… things clicked. It was easy with him.”
Brendan doesn’t move.
Hayden glances at me again, then back at Brendan. “Joey already knew about what you and I did. He knew before he met you.”
I stiffen. My heart jumps in my chest, waiting to see how Brendan reacts.
His brows knit, but not with the fury I expect. He just exhales, like the confirmation stings in a way he’d suspected all along. “So he knew you had a girlfriend and that we did stuff too?” His voice trails off, not accusatory, just quietly stunned.
“Yeah,” Hayden says, firm but not defensive. “Yeah, I guess maybe Joey saw that as his opening? He didn’t care about the weirdness of it. He just… saw me.”
Brendan doesn’t say anything for a while. We just stand there on the trail, the cold creeping up again now that we’ve stopped moving.
Brendan stares at the ground, kicking a loose pebble with his boot. It skitters off the trail, vanishing into the brush. When he finally speaks, his voice is flat. "Okay. Fine. But don’t expect me to act like this doesn’t suck for me."
A pause. Then, quieter: "Or to cover for you with Ava."
That’s it. Not approval. Not acceptance. Just an acknowledgement. A signal that he’s still processing, but he’s not storming off.
Hayden starts walking again, and I fall in behind him. Brendan follows after a second, and for now, that’s enough.
We continue for another hour, climbing switchbacks that cut across wide, open slopes with barely any tree cover. The alpine meadows stretch out around us, golden and brittle from the dry season, scattered with granite boulders and scrappy tufts of grass. The sun’s still low enough to throw long shadows across the trail, but there’s no real shade—just sky and stone and wind.
The trees from Diamond Lake faded behind us a while ago, the trail opening up completely as we gained elevation. Up here, everything feels more exposed. More honest.
Jasper Lake finally appears ahead, nestled in a shallow basin below the ridgeline. It should feel dramatic, but the sight stops us for a different reason.
The lake is low. Like, scarily low.
Shoreline that should be underwater stretches bare and cracked, with driftwood scattered like bones on the dry lakebed. The water that’s left still manages to shimmer under the light, catching a quiet reflection of the ridge to the south, but it feels... thin. Like the lake is struggling to stay alive.
We’re not the only ones here. A couple of hikers sit along the eastern shore, looking equally quieted by the sight. Off in the distance, two people are coming down what must be the Devil’s Thumb trail, steep and jagged as it folds into the basin. That side of the loop looks brutal. We definitely took the right route.
We find a flat spot near a boulder and drop our packs. There’s not much to say at first. Maybe it’s the view. Maybe it’s everything from earlier still lingering.
Hayden pulls out a granola bar and tosses me one, then another to Brendan. The silence stretches, broken only by the wind skimming over the dried-up lake bed. Brendan picks up a rock, turning it over in his hands before hurling it toward the water. It lands with a hollow plunk, too close to the shore to even splash.
"Should’ve brought a fucking fishing pole," he mutters.
Hayden and I exchange a glance. Neither of us laughs.
Hayden shifts, glancing at Brendan. “Can I ask you something?”
Brendan doesn’t look up right away. “You can try.”
Hayden exhales, the wrapper crinkling in his hands. “Do you regret it? That night we got drunk and fooled around?”
The question lingers for a beat. No weight, no drama. Just honest.
Brendan finally looks up, squinting into the wind. “I don’t know,” he says. “Sometimes I think, yeah, I wish we hadn’t. It changed things. Made everything messier.”
“But,” Brendan continues, “I also don’t think it was just nothing. It was something. Maybe not in the way it is with you and Joey. But it was still… emotional, I guess.”
His eyes meet Hayden’s briefly, then flick to me. “So no, I don’t regret it. I regret what happened after. The not-talking part. I guess my not bringing it up made you think you couldn’t tell me about Joey.
Brendan doesn’t say anything more, and none of us pushes it. We just sit there, the wind coming off the lake cool and dry, brushing over the brittle grass and cracked shoreline. The sun’s higher now, glinting off the exposed stones that would be underwater in a fuller year. Everything feels a little raw: us, the lake, the sky. Like we’re all still figuring out how to hold what’s left.
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