The wind hit them first, up here where the trees gave out and the whole sky opened. Riley braced his hands on his knees, chest heaving, the last stretch of switchback still burning in his thighs. Sweat cooled on his forehead, and he wiped it with the back of his wrist, squinting out at the lake below — a sheet of silver in the late sun, stretching wide and quiet between the folded green shoulders of the hills.

"Okay," Jasmine said, already spinning in a slow circle, arms open like she was trying to hug the horizon. "Okay, this was worth the part where I thought my lungs were going to quit."

"You said that at the first lookout," Natalie said, settling onto a flat rock and pulling off her pack. "And the second one."

"I'm a woman of recurring opinions."

Riley straightened slowly, letting his shoulders uncurl. Up here, with the wind moving and no one looking directly at him, it came easier. Behind him, the others were finding their spots — Natalie on the rock, Jasmine already walking the ridge's edge with her phone out, Ella a few paces back, hands on her hips, breathing through her nose. And Inde, close at his side the way she'd been the whole climb, unscrewing the cap of her water bottle.

She passed it to him without a word. Their fingers brushed, and she didn't pull away, just let the contact sit there a second longer than it needed to. The water was cool, faintly plastic-tasting, and he drank deep, aware of her watching him.

"Thanks," he said, handing it back.

She took it, their fingers brushing again, and capped it. "You good?"

"Yeah. Just —" He gestured vaguely at the climb behind them, the switchbacks they'd earned. "Out of shape."

"You swim," she said, a small smile tugging at her mouth. "Different muscles."

Jessica's arm looped through his from the other side, her head tilting to rest against his shoulder. She was warm through her jacket, and she let out a long, satisfied breath. "I'm never walking again. Someone carry me down."

"You said that at the first lookout too," Natalie called.

"I'm a woman of recurring lies."

Riley laughed — a real one, surprised out of him — and Jessica squeezed his arm, pleased. The sound carried on the wind, and for a moment he let himself stand there, flanked by both of them, the lake spread out below like something from a postcard he'd never thought to buy.

Ella stepped up to the ridge's edge, a few feet away, and for a while no one said anything. She stood with her hands in her jacket pockets, wind pulling strands of blonde loose from her ponytail, her ice-blue eyes fixed on the water. Riley watched her from the corner of his vision. She always looked like she was waiting for permission to take up space, even up here, even with no one to compete against.

"It's like —" Ella started, then stopped, the way she often did, letting the sentence die rather than risk it.

"Like the lake knows something we don't?" Jasmine offered, not unkindly.

Ella turned, surprised, then nodded. "Yeah. Something like that."

Jasmine grinned and went back to her phone, snapping a panorama. Natalie had pulled a granola bar from her pack and was breaking it into pieces, methodical, offering one to anyone who passed close enough. Inde sat down on the ground near Riley's feet, cross-legged, and he felt the absence of her warmth against his side immediately. But she looked up at him and patted the grass beside her, and he lowered himself down, Jessica settling on his other side, close enough that their shoulders touched.

"This is good," Inde said quietly, not to anyone in particular.

"Yeah," Riley said. And he meant it, the way he was learning to mean things around her. Around all of them.

The wind moved again, rattling the dry grass at the ridge's edge. The sun was starting to lean lower, gilding the water until it looked like hammered metal. Jasmine pocketed her phone and came back to the group, dropping down cross-legged beside Natalie, close enough that their knees bumped.

"So," Jasmine said, drawing the word out. "We're really talking about it tomorrow. The house thing."

Natalie nodded, chewing. "I've been thinking about it for weeks."

"Weeks?" Jasmine's eyebrows went up. "You've been sitting on this?"

"I didn't want to — I don't know." Natalie shrugged, a small, honest motion. "I didn't want to want it too much."

The words landed softer than she'd probably meant them to. Riley watched her pick at the edge of her granola bar, and something in his chest shifted. He knew that feeling — the bracing, the not-allowing, the careful distance you kept from the thing you wanted most in case it didn't want you back.

"Turns out," Jasmine said, quieter now, "wanting it too much is kind of the point."

Natalie looked up at her, and something passed between them — a small, wordless understanding. Riley felt Inde's hand find his, her fingers threading through his, and he held on.

"A house," Jessica said, musing, her head still on his shoulder. "All of us. That's —" She laughed, a bright, startled sound. "That's a lot of tall women and one very tall guy."

"I'll bring the volleyball net," Ella said.

Riley turned. Ella was still standing at the ridge's edge, but she'd turned to face them now, a faint flush on her cheeks, like she'd surprised herself by speaking.

"For the yard," she added, when no one answered. "When we get the house. Can we put a volleyball net in the yard?"

The question hung there, small and hopeful, and Riley felt the whole group go still around it. Not awkward — just holding it, the way you hold something fragile.

Jasmine was the first to break the silence. "Ella Johansson," she said, her voice thick with something that wasn't quite joking, "I have never loved you more than I do right now."

Ella's flush deepened, but she didn't look away. "I'm serious."

"I know you are." Jasmine grinned, wide and bright. "And it's the best thing anyone's said all trip."

The laughter that followed was the good kind — the kind that came easy and stayed, rolling through the group in waves. Natalie laughed until she had to set down her granola bar. Jessica's head shook against Riley's shoulder, her whole body shaking with it. Inde laughed quietly, her hand tightening on his, and Riley felt it in his chest, warm and full.

Ella stood there, caught in the middle of it, and for a moment she almost looked like she might cry. But then she smiled — a real one, rare and unguarded — and let herself be part of it.

"A volleyball net," Natalie said, wiping her eyes. "That's the first thing we're buying. I'm putting it in the group chat."

"Do it," Jasmine said. "Make it official."

Natalie pulled out her phone, thumbs moving. Riley watched, still smiling, and felt the shape of it forming — the house, the yard, the net. It wasn't a plan yet. It was a wish, but it was a wish they were all holding together, and that made it feel almost solid.

"What else?" Jasmine asked, leaning forward. "If we're doing this. What else does the house need?"

"A big kitchen," Jessica said immediately. "I'm not cooking for six people in that tiny galley."

"A porch," Inde said quietly. "Somewhere to sit in the morning."

"A yard for the net," Ella said, more confidently now.

"A game room," Jasmine said. "Pool table. Or ping pong. Something competitive."

"A guest room," Natalie said. "For when people need space."

They all went quiet at that, the weight of it settling. A room for when people need space. In a house they were all choosing together.

"That's good," Riley said, his voice surprising him. "That's —" He trailed off, unsure how to finish.

Inde squeezed his hand. "It's good," she said, and he knew she meant more than the room.

The wind moved again, cooler now as the sun sank lower. Riley watched the lake catch the last of the light, silver turning to gold, and felt the ache in his legs start to ease. They still had the hike down, and dinner, and a night in the cabin before tomorrow's talk. But up here, with the ridge stretching out around them and the house taking shape in their hands, it felt like enough.

"Okay," Jasmine said, pushing herself to her feet and brushing off her pants. "I need one picture of all of us. Before the light goes."

They arranged themselves — a process that involved Jasmine directing traffic with the authority of someone used to being listened to, Natalie laughing as she was repositioned, Ella slipping to the edge of the frame until Jasmine pulled her in by the jacket. Riley ended up in the middle, Inde and Jessica on either side, her arm still looped through his.

"Say 'volleyball net,'" Jasmine said.

"Volleyball net," they chorused, and the camera clicked.

Jasmine lowered her phone, checked the photo, and her face softened. "Okay. That's the one."

They stood there a moment longer, the six of them, the ridge falling away on all sides. The sun was a low orange coin on the horizon, and the lake below had gone dark and quiet. Riley felt Inde's hand in his, Jessica's warmth at his shoulder, and the shape of the others around him, and he didn't count to ten. He just stayed.

"We should head down," Ella said, her voice soft. "Before it gets dark."

No one moved. The wind ruffled their jackets, and the light kept shifting, and for a long moment, the ridge held them all.

"Yeah," Riley said finally. "We should."

But he stayed where he was, Inde's hand in his, Jessica's arm around him, the lake spread out below like a promise, and let himself be part of the moment a little longer.

Jasmine checked her phone, thumb swiping across the screen. "Sunset in twenty. We've got time, but we should probably—" She stopped, squinting past the group, off to the left where the ridge flattened into a small, grassy clearing. The ground there was even, mostly level, bordered on one side by a low shelf of rock and on the other by a thin stand of pines. No one said anything about it. But Riley saw Jasmine's eyes catch on it, and he saw Ella notice her noticing.

Ella tilted her head, studying the clearing with the same focused attention she gave a serve. "That's flat," she said, almost to herself.

"Mm," Jasmine said, noncommittal.

Natalie looked up from her granola bar, following both their gazes. "What's flat?"

"Nothing," Jasmine said, but she was smiling, and the smile had a quality to it that Riley was learning to recognize. It was the smile she got when she was building something, planning something, making a space for people who needed one.

The wind picked up again, colder now, and Riley felt Jessica shift closer against his shoulder. Her hand found his arm and squeezed, a small, quiet pressure. He looked down at her, and she was looking at the clearing too, her chin lifted, her eyes narrowed like she was measuring it.

"You could fit a net there," she said, and the words came out light, almost careless, but they didn't land that way.

Ella's head turned. "That's what I was thinking."

"Great minds," Jessica said, and something passed between them, quick and warm, before Jessica tucked her head back against Riley's shoulder.

The moment settled. The clearing stayed where it was, flat and empty, grass bending in the wind. No one mentioned a house. No one mentioned a yard. But Riley felt the shape of it anyway, the way you feel a weight before you see it — the possibility of it pressing gently against the afternoon air.

Inde's hand tightened on his, and when he looked down, she was watching him, her dark eyes steady. She didn't say anything. She just held his gaze for a moment, and then she looked out at the clearing too, and he watched her take it in — the flat ground, the pines, the low rock shelf, the way the light fell across it all.

"It's a good spot," she said quietly, and he knew she wasn't talking about the view.

Riley nodded. He didn't have words for it, not yet. But standing there, with Inde's hand in his and Jessica's warmth at his side and the clearing waiting like a blank page, he felt something settle in his chest. A thing he'd been holding carefully, afraid to let it take root, finally pressing its weight into the ground.

He didn't count to ten. He just stood there, letting it stay.