Page 4 of High Water

“Yes. We’re doing a chapter on weather and creating microclimates.”

“In your backpack?”

“Yes?” I can hear the question in my own tone, and his brow climbs higher.

He lets out a sigh after a moment of silence. “You know you’re a bad liar, right?”

My cheeks flush with the blunt accusation, and with the racing thoughts I’m having as I try to come up with a more plausible cover-up.

“Just tell me the truth. Whatever it is. I won’t be mad.”

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Some promises were made to be broken, Aspen.” My dad’s slight irritation with my white lies turns into genuine concern.

“It’s… it’s Bishop. I found him at the homestead, and he’s hurt badly. His face is all torn up. His ribs are broken too, I think. He said there was a cougar, but said he managed to lock it out. He won’t say what really happened.”

“That son of a bitch.” My father turns on his heel, slamming his open palm on the doorframe.

“Dad! He didn’t do anything. He’s just hurt.”

My father stops midway down the hall and looks at me, his face falling and his brows knitting together.

“Not Bishop, kiddo. His father.”

“His father?” I ask, confused for a whole moment before I stitch the pieces together. “His father?” I repeat the question in anger.

“He’s not a good man. Where’s Bishop now?” My father starts for the door again.

“Dad, you can’t! If you go out there, he’ll know I told you, and he’ll never trust me again. I barely got him to come back with me, and I—” I stop abruptly when I realize there’s nowhere to go from there that doesn’t make me sound overly invested. And I don’t want to discuss crushes with my father. Especially not when it’s Levi’s best friend.

“I won’t let him know you sent me. I’ll pretend that I stumbled on him. Where is he?”

“The bunkhouse. Taking a shower.” If anyone can help Bishop, keep him safe from his father, it’s mine.

“Good. Thank you. Bring that stuff out with you, just like you planned, in case we need it. We’ll both act surprised.”

I give my father a head start so it doesn’t look like I might have run into him on my way out, and I walk slowly to the bunkhouse, hoping they’ve hashed things out before I get there. Sure enough, my father is leaving just as I get there, giving me a subtle nod before he disappears back down the path to the house.

I practically tiptoe my way inside, half afraid to face Bishop now and worried he’s going to be angry with me. When I come around, he’s sitting on one of the beds. He swipes at his cheek, but not before I see the evidence of a single tear. I know he’ll hate me for having seen any sign of weakness in him. My brothers are no different, and I’m used to pretending not to notice.

“I brought some food and meds for the pain. Some ointment for those cuts and some butterfly strips. If you won’t go see a doctor—my mom’s put them on Levi before when he’s had a bad cut.” I set my bag on the bed next to him and start to unzip it as I talk, pulling things out as I go.

“Your dad found me.” His tone is flat, but I can hear the accusation in it all the same.

“Oh shit,” I swear, wincing and looking up to see his reaction.

“He’s making me see a doctor. But he said I can stay here for tonight.” He doesn’t meet my eyes when he speaks.

“Good. You should see a doctor.” I hold out one of the brownies that’s topped with mint buttercream. He shoots me a skeptical look, one so evident even the swelling doesn’t camouflage it. “They’re really good. My mom made them for my birthday. I figured you’d be hungry.”

He takes it from me and gingerly takes a bite as he tries to avoid the part of his lip that’s swollen. He wordlessly takes another and then another before I hand him a can of Coke, which he downs quickly. I imagine it’s been a minute since he’s had proper food if he’s been holed up in the homestead all this time.

“I can bring you a plate of dinner out later if you want.”

“You’ve done enough.” He shakes his head.

“Okay. Well. I’ll just leave the rest of this here then.” Clearly, I’m not wanted. I pile the supplies on the corner of the bed and zip my bag, throwing it over my shoulder and making my way toward the door. “I hope you feel better.”