Brent’s POV
The alarm on my phone buzzed at an ungodly hour, and for a second, I considered ignoring it. Who cared about sunrises, anyway? But then I remembered Betty’s laugh yesterday, the way it sounded lighter than it had in months, and I figured it was worth getting up for.
By the time I pulled up to her house, the world was still draped in shadows. The sky wasn’t black, exactly, but it wasn’t morning either. Somewhere in between.
Betty was waiting on the porch, bundled in a hoodie that looked so cute in her. She’d always been insecure about her weight, but for me, it’s what made her so charming. She had a thermos in her hands, her hair pulled back into a loose braid.
“You’re awake,” I said, stepping out of the car.
“Barely,” she muttered, tightening her grip on the thermos. “This is a terrible idea.”
“You said that yesterday,” I reminded her, pulling the hiking pack out of the trunk.
“Yeah, and I stand by it.”
“Come on,” I said, motioning for her to follow me. “It’ll be worth it.”
***
The trail was dark, the kind of dark that makes you second-guess every step you take. My flashlight bobbed ahead of us, illuminating the dirt path and the occasional tree root waiting to trip us up.
Betty walked behind me, her boots crunching against the gravel.
“You okay back there?” I asked after a while.
“Fine,” she said, though her voice had that edge it always got when she was tired.
I slowed my pace, falling into step beside her. “We’re almost there.”
“Good,” she muttered, taking a sip from her thermos. “Because if I fall and die out here, I’m haunting you.”
“Fair,” I said, grinning.
***
We reached the top just as the horizon began to change. The stars were fading, and the first hints of gold streaked across the sky. I dropped the backpack, sitting down on the nearest flat rock and motioning for Betty to join me.
She sat down with a heavy sigh, pulling her knees up to her chest.
“See?” I said, pointing at the view. “Worth it.”
She stared out at the rolling hills and valleys spread out in front of us, her expression softening.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “It is.”
For a while, we didn’t say anything. The world seemed to hold its breath as the sun crept higher, turning the sky from gold to orange to pink.
Then, out of nowhere, Betty said, “I can’t believe I’m an orphan now.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut.
“Don’t say that,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.
She turned to me, her eyes glassy. “But it’s true. My mom’s gone. My dad’s gone. Even if Jeanette and I weren’t really close, she’s still my stepmom. I’m alone, Brent.”
“You’re not alone,” I said firmly, leaning closer so she couldn’t look away. “You still have Stacey. And you have me.”
She let out a shaky breath, nodding but not saying anything. For a second, I thought she might cry, but instead, she looked back at the horizon.
“Thanks,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the wind.
“Always,” I said, leaning back and letting the silence wrap around us again.
***
When we started heading back down the trail, the world felt lighter. The sun was up now, bathing everything in warm light, and even though my legs were killing me, I didn’t mind.
Betty cracked a joke about how her muscles were going to hate her tomorrow, and I laughed, even though I knew mine would be worse.
The air between us felt... different. Softer. Like we’d finally started to peel back the layers of everything that had happened over the past year.
“Do you remember that diner we used to go to?” she asked.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Let that be our next stop. I want a double cheeseburger,” she said grinning. And for a moment there, it felt like anything that had happened in the city was just nothing but a bad dream.