Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

I scrubbed my hand over the back of my neck as I filled the last of my water bottles. Through the window overlooking the sink, the sun was barely beginning to peek out. If I’d had just about any other plans, I would have still been in the tent from last night.

Only my mom could get me to roll out of bed this early. I’d had a dream about her the night before. It wasn’t that I could remember what had happened in it, because I couldn’t, but there was a certain feel to my dreams when she was in them. I woke up happier. The happiness usually tapered into sadness, but not the bad kind.

I figured the dream had to be some kind of omen for the hike I was doing today.

I was here because of her, after all.

But, some part of me couldn’t help but wish that I’d stayed in the tent last night with Rhodes.

Lying on the sleeping bags, me in my pajamas, and basically lined up along that incredible body, we had watched one movie and started another. The night had been quiet and comfortable, with only the slight sounds of the occasional car driving down the county road interrupting the voices of the actors coming from the tablet.

Honestly, it had been the most romantic night of my life.

Not that Rhodes had known that.

And as we’d rolled up the sleeping bags and torn down the tent, he had asked me what I was taking with me to do the hike I was going to knock out today. Rhodes had given me some quiet warnings, and sitting in the camp chairs afterward, we’d checked the weather on his phone.

And that was exactly why I’d drug myself out of bed at five thirty in the morning. I needed to get an early start. This might be my last shot at doing the Hike from Hell, unless I wanted to wait until next year. Snow was going to be hitting the highest peaks soon.

And I probably would have waited, but . . . I needed to do it.

I had to.

The reminder of how short life was had blossomed in my head and stayed there, and I knew I had to at least try and knock another hike out of the way since I actually had the time. Might as well. Go big or go home, and my mom had been a supernova of guts and fearlessness. I had to do it for her.

I’d pumped myself up to try and make this hike my bitch once and for all. The forecast was good. There had been a post I’d found on a forum from someone who said they’d done the trail two days ago and it had been great.

So why not? I’d gotten my things mostly together, and I was going to do this. To prove to myself that I could.

For my mom and for all the years she hadn’t gotten. For all the experiences she had missed. For the path that her life’s course had paved for me.

I was here, in this place, with hope in my heart because of her. It was the least I could do.

And that was probably why I was so caught up in my head, as I finished lugging my supplies downstairs to my car, that I didn’t notice the figure approaching from across the driveway until Rhodes asked quietly, “Are you good?”

Over my shoulder, I caught a glance of his silvery hair and smiled at the handsome face looking at me. “Yeah. I’m great, just thinking about my mom,” I answered before dropping my backpack into the back seat.

“Good thoughts or bad thoughts?” he asked softly before covering his mouth for a yawn. He was already in his uniform, but the top buttons were undone and he hadn’t put his belt on.

Had he come out here just because he saw me through the window?

Turning around slowly, I took in his heavy features, those slashes of cheekbones, the subtle cleft in his chin. He was pretty awake even though he couldn’t have been up for long.

“Both,” I answered him. “Good as in I’m here because of her and I’m really happy that I came back and things are going good, but bad because . . .”

He watched me closely, so good-looking it made my chest ache a little.

I had never really spoken the words out loud. I’d heard them from other people’s mouths but never mine. But I found that I wanted to. “Did you ever hear that there were some people who didn’t believe she got hurt and couldn’t make it out?”

Rhodes’s eyes bounced from one of mine to the other, but he didn’t bullshit me. He took a small step forward and dipped his chin, still watching. “There were a few trains of thought that she”—he sucked in a breath like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say the words either, but he did—“harmed herself.”

I nodded.

“Or that she walked away to start a new life,” he finished quietly.

That one specifically had stung the worst. That people would think she would leave everything behind, leave me behind, to start over fresh.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I wasn’t sure how much you’d heard. I never thought she would leave like that, not even because of all the financial issues she was having that I didn’t know about. How she was going to have to declare bankruptcy, how we were about to get evicted . . . or how she might have . . .” The words bubbled in my throat like they were acid, and I couldn’t say the S-word. “Not come back on purpose,” I settled for. “I know the police knew about how she was on medication for depression.”

Rhodes nodded.

“I was just thinking about that, I guess. How her going on her hike and all those things and how that one decision of hers changed my life completely. How I wouldn’t have moved to Florida and gotten to know my aunt and uncle. How I wouldn’t have gone to Tennessee, and then I wouldn’t have lived that life there . . . and then eventually ended up back here. Life is just weird, I guess, is what I was thinking about. How one decision that you don’t even make can affect another person’s life so dramatically.

“I just miss her extra today, I guess, and I wish I had answers. I wish I knew what really happened,” I finished telling him, adding a shrug to hopefully make it seem like it was all casual and fine. It wasn’t the first time I had mornings or days like this, and it wouldn’t be the last.

You didn’t survive someone taking a wrecking ball to your existence and not have thousands of fractures to live with the rest of your life.

“It was a strange case, and maybe if I didn’t know you, I could see why people would think that. But now that I do—know you, Buddy—I don’t believe she left intentionally. I told you, I don’t know how anybody could let you walk away. Or how anyone could be the one to do the walking. I’m sure she loved you very much.”

“She did,” I told him before pressing my lips together for a second and blinking. “I think so at least.” I swallowed and eyed him. “Can I have a good-morning hug? Is that all right? If not, don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t even use his words.

His answer was to open his arms before coaxing me into them after the first step I took.

And I thought to myself that I fit in them pretty damn well.

His palm skipped over the patting thing he’d done before and went straight into stroking up and down my back once. What was minutes later, when my heart was beating nice and slow and the scent of his laundry detergent clung to my nostrils in a way that I hoped lasted all day, he asked, “Are you going for your hike still?”

“Yeah. Clara hasn’t texted me yet, but we’re going to meet at the trailhead.”

He pulled back just enough for our gazes to meet. The fingers on my back brushed the strap of my bra. “If you change your mind and want to wait, I’m off next Sunday.”

He was offering to go on a hike with me. Why did it feel like a marriage proposal? I knew for a fact he’d already done the trail a couple of times before—as I’d learned the first time I’d tried it—and he knew that I knew that. “I’d rather do a new one another day so you aren’t bored like when we did Fourmile. If you want to.”

“If you want to,” he agreed. “And I wasn’t bored.”

That made me smile up at him. “And here I thought you were miserable the whole time.”

“No.” His nostrils flared just a little. “If you change your mind, I’m hanging around here today,” he said quietly. “I’ve got a couple of poaching issues I need to check on.”

“I’m going to try and do it; I’ve got everything packed. The faster I get it over with, the faster I can do another one. Maybe with you . . . if you’re free. Maybe we can get Am to come too. Maybe we can bribe him with food.”

It was his turn to nod before he eyed my collection of water, food, and emergency supplies of a tiny blanket, tarp, flashlight, and first aid kit. I’d gotten pretty decent at figuring out what I needed and how much. It was too long and hard of a trail to go crazy and overpack, but I didn’t want to starve either. I got way too cranky for that. My choices must have been approved by him because he looked back at me and nodded.

His arms let me go, and in the next blink of an eye, he held out a ball of dark blue. “Take my jacket with you. It’s wind- and waterproof. It’s lighter than yours, and it’ll be easier to pack.” He gestured for me to take it. “Take your sun protective pants too. There’s a lot of brush on the trail the way you’re taking today. You’ve got trekking poles?”

Something inside of me eased, and I nodded at him.

His gray eyes were steady and somber on me. “Call me when you get there and when you finish.” He paused, thinking about his words before adding, “Please.”

I had just parked at the trailhead when my phone happened to ring. It was honestly a miracle that I even got service in the first place, but as I’d learned over the last few months of living in the mountains, sometimes you randomly hit a sweet spot in the perfect place if the elevation was just right. Maybe it helped that I’d switched my cell provider to the same one as Yuki. And based on the altitude my watch was registering, I was way up there.

Rhodes had warned me about just how sketchy the drive up was since I was going to try to hike to the lake from a different starting point, but I should’ve known he didn’t blow things out of proportion or exaggerate. The road had been s-k-e-t-c-h-y. I’d been gripping the steering wheel for dear life for part of the route, the road was so rutted and littered with sharp rocks. I’d told myself to ask him when was the last time he’d been up because, even though I figured he trusted my driving skills enough to send me this way instead of the route I’d gone the last time, my gut said Mr. Overprotective would have been pushier about me not driving up alone if he’d known it was this level of shitty.

That or he really believed in me.

I’d only regretted being stubborn about doing this every thirty seconds.

I had a bad feeling in my stomach when my phone rang and CLARA flashed across the screen.

According to the text she’d sent me as I was leaving Rhodes’s, she had been about to leave her house. She should’ve been somewhere close by, behind me, if not already here. And I knew that wasn’t the case because there were two vehicles in the clearing that doubled as parking for the start of the hike, and neither of them were hers.

“Hey,” I greeted, leaning my head back against the headrest and sensing the unease pool in my stomach again.

“Aurora,” Clara answered. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the trailhead,” I confirmed, eyeing the very blue skies. “Where you at?”

She cursed.

“What happened?”

“I’ve been trying to call you, but it wasn’t going through. My car won’t start. I called my brother, but he’s still not here yet.” She cursed again. “You know what? Let me call the tow truck service and—”

I didn’t want her to spend money on a tow truck service. She’d been stressing enough about money when she thought I wasn’t looking or paying attention, but at-home care for her dad ate up a massive chunk of the store’s earnings.

Plus, we both also knew this was my last chance to do this hike this year, more than likely. October was knocking on the door. The drought had kept the summer warm and the start of fall warmer than normal, but Mother Nature was getting bored. The temperatures were going to start dropping soon and snow was going to start being a real thing in higher elevations. If I didn’t do it now, it’d be eight months before I could even think about doing this again. Maybe next week would still be fine, but it was a hard maybe.

“No, don’t do that,” I told her, trying to figure out what to say. “Wait for your brother. The drive here was rough anyway.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, the washboard”—that was crazy horizontal ruts that resembled a washboard on the road—“is unreal.” I paused and tried to think; it would easily be three hours before she got here, if she was even able to. By that point, it’d be late morning and we’d be cutting it too close to dark. And that damn drive back . . .

I wasn’t scared to do the hike alone. I worried more about other people than I did encountering animals. Plus, I was more prepared this time. I could handle it.

“I’m sorry. Damn it. I can’t believe this happened.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I hope your brother gets there soon and it’s not anything serious.”

“Me too.” She paused and said something away from the phone before coming back. “I’ll do it with you next week.”

I knew what I was going to do. I had to. This was why I’d come.

It was just a hike—a hard one, sure, but plenty of people did difficult ones. I wasn’t camping. And there were two cars parked here.

“It’s okay. I know you were just going to do it to keep me company, and I’m already here.”

I heard the caution in her tone. “Aurora—”

“The weather is good. The drive was shit. I’m early enough to knock this out in about seven hours. There are two cars here. I’m in peak condition to get this shit done. I might as well get it over with, Clara. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s a difficult hike.”

“And you told me that you have a friend that runs it by himself,” I reminded her. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be out of here while I still have hours of sunshine left. I got this.”

There was a pause. “Are you sure? I’m sorry. I feel bad I’m always bailing on you.”

“Don’t feel bad. It’s okay. You’ve got a life and so many responsibilities, Clara. I get it, I swear. And I’ve done other ones by myself. Start doing some jumping jacks or something so we can do an eleven-mile one-way hike next year.”

“Eleven miles one way?”She made a noise that sounded almost like a laugh but mostly like she thought I was fucking nuts.

“Yeah, suck it up. I can do this. You know where I’m at; I’ll be fine. I’m not doing what my mom did and doing a different hike without telling anyone. I’ll leave my phone on; the battery is fully charged. I’ve got my whistle and my pepper spray. I’m good.”

Clara made another hesitating sound. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

She sighed deeply, still hesitating.

“Don’t feel bad. But also don’t laugh at me if I can’t walk tomorrow, deal?”

“I wouldn’t laugh at you . . .”

I knew she wouldn’t. “I’ll text you if I get service and when I’m done, all right?”

“Will you tell Rhodes too?”

That made me smile. “He already knows.”

“All right then. I’m sorry, Aurora. I promise I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s okay.”

She groaned. “Okay. I’m sorry. I feel like a piece of shit.”

I paused. “You should.” We both laughed. “I’m kidding! Let me call him real quick and then get started.”

She wished me good luck, and we hung up right after that. I waited a second and then called Rhodes. It rang and rang, and after a moment, his voice mail picked up.

I left him a quick message. “Hi. I’m at the trailhead. Clara’s having car trouble and won’t be able to make it for at least another three hours, so I’m going to do the hike alone after all. There are two cars parked in the lot. Their license plates are . . .” I peeked at them and rolled off the letters and numbers. “The skies are bright blue. The road was really sketchy, but I got it done. I’m going to do this as fast as I can but still try and pace myself because I know the way out might kill me. I’ll see you later. Have a good day at work and good luck with those poaching assholes. Bye!”

I started the hike with a smile on my face even though my soul felt a little heavier than normal, but not for bad reasons. Missing my mom made me sad, but that wasn’t a bad thing. I just hoped she knew I still missed her and thought of her.

I put my phone on airplane mode so it wouldn’t start roaming and drain the battery in no time. I’d learned that shit the hard way months ago. I could check it again once I got started going up.

Despite the cool temperature, the sun was bright and beautiful, the sky the bluest thing I’d ever seen. I couldn’t have asked for a better day to do this, I knew. Maybe Mom had worked it out to cheer me up.

That thought lifted me up even higher.

Despite losing my breath after the first fifteen minutes and having to stop a lot more often than I would have wanted, I kept going. I took my time, had to peel my jacket off after a little bit, and kept an eye on my watch but tried not to stress about all my stops. The entire back of my shirt ended up soaked with sweat where the backpack rested, and that too was no big deal. I checked my phone every other pit stop and didn’t find service. I just kept on going. One step in front of another, enjoying the incredible scent of the wilderness because that’s exactly what this was.

I was in the middle of millions of acres of national forest all by myself, and as much as I would have enjoyed company, on today of all days, doing this gave me chills.

I imagined my mom taking this very same trail thirty-something years ago, and it made me smile. Her notes didn’t specify which way she’d started the hike—there were two ways to get to the lake, one of which was the path I was on now and the other was the one I’d taken last time—but regardless, she was here. These trees had given her some sort of peace, I’d like to think.

I was pretty sure she’d done it by herself too, and that made me smile wider. It’d be even better to have Clara here . . . even better to have Rhodes with me or Am, but maybe it was meant to be for me to tackle this alone. To do this one last trip by myself like I’d started. I had wanted this move to Colorado to be me reconnecting with my mom, and nothing could have prepared me for the changes I’d made in the months since. They had made me stronger. Better.

Happier.

Sure, I’d still scream if a bat snuck back into the house or if I saw another mouse, but I knew I’d be able to figure out a solution if it happened. Maybe you didn’t have to get over your fears completely to conquer them. Maybe if you just faced them in general that counted. Or at least that’s what I wanted to believe.

And maybe . . . this was my goodbye to at least part of the past. Closing all the opened chapters that hadn’t been completed. I had so much going for me. So much joy just waiting around. Like with the end of my relationship, I had so much I was leaving behind to start over with all these new possibilities. I had people who cared about me again, who worried for me, and they didn’t care about who I knew or how much money I had or what I could do for them.

So maybe it could be like I’d thought before. You could start over any day of the week, at any time of the year, at any point in your life, and it was fine.

And I kept that thought in my head as I kept climbing, another hour after hour went by; my calves cramped, and I stopped briefly again to take some magnesium capsules I’d brought along. For all I tried to jump rope, my thighs burned like a son of a bitch too, and I was going through my water faster than I’d expected, but I’d planned for that too and could refill at a stream or the lake, even though the water would taste like butthole. I didn’t want to get altitude sickness more than I disliked the taste of filtered water, so tough shit.

The scenery changed and changed, and I marveled at the beauty and greenery around. And maybe it was because I was too busy admiring everything and thinking that life was going to be okay that I didn’t notice the sky. Didn’t see the dark clouds that had started rolling in until a flash of lightning and a boom of thunder cracked across what had been clear skies, scaring the shit out of me.

I literally yelped and ran toward the closest collection of trees, crouching down a second before the rain started. Luckily, Clara had warned me to take a tarp with me on long hikes, and I covered myself with it, pulling Rhodes’s rain jacket on too for extra protection. I was still sitting there when hail started pelting everything.

But I stayed optimistic. I knew this was just part of it. I’d gotten hailed on once or twice before. It never lasted long, and this time was no exception.

I started again, kept pushing, getting tired, but no big deal. It didn’t rain long enough for it to be muddy, but simply damp.

I crossed a sketchy section and the ridge that had tried to assassinate me last time, that I pretty much had to scramble over, and that’s when I knew I didn’t have much farther left. I was almost there. An hour maximum. I checked my phone, saw I had service, and sent out a couple of texts.

The first was to Rhodes.

Me:Made it to the ridge. Everything is good. I’ll text you on the way back.

Then I sent one to Clara that was basically the same.

That’s when an incoming message came through from Amos.

Amos:Did you go do the hike by yourself?

Me:Yessss. I made it to the ridge. Everything is good.

I didn’t even get a chance to put my phone on airplane mode again when another message came through from him.

Amos:Are you nuts?

Well, I guess I might as well sit here another minute. I could use the break. So I texted him back, propped my butt on the nearest rock, and figured five more minutes wouldn’t kill me.

Me:Not yet

Amos:I could’ve gone with you

Me:Do you remember how miserable you were when we did four miles?

I took out a precious granola bar and ate half in a bite, peeking at the skies. Where the hell had these clouds come from? I knew they rolled in uncalled for, but . . .

Another message came through while I was chewing.

Amos:You’re not supposed to do it by yourself!!!

He was using exclamation marks.

He loved me.

Amos:Does dad know????

Me:He knows. I called him, but he didn’t answer. I promise I’m okay.

I finished off the rest of my bar in another bite, slipped the wrapper into a grocery store bag I was using for trash, and when I hadn’t gotten a response from Amos again or Clara, or anyone, I got up—my lower body crying in frustration from how tired it already was—and kept on going.

The next hour fucking sucked ass. I thought I was fit, thought I could handle this shit.

But I was exhausted.

Just thinking about the hike back made my enthusiasm disappear.

But I was doing this for Mom, and I was here and fuck if I wasn’t going to finish this. This lake better be the greatest thing I’d ever seen.

I kept going and going.

At one point, I caught a flicker of what I figured had to be the lake in the distance, shiny and mirrorlike.

But with each step I took, the clouds got darker and darker.

It started pouring again, and I took out my wet tarp and hunkered under a tree with it.

But this time, it didn’t clear up after five minutes.

Or ten.

Twenty or thirty.

It poured. Then it hailed. Then it poured some more.

Thunder shook the trees, my teeth, and my soul. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked to see if I had service. I didn’t. I ate most of the snacks I’d planned on treating myself to when I got to the lake to save time. I was going to have to get there and pretty much turn around and start heading back.

The rain finally turned into a sprinkle after nearly an hour, and the quarter mile I had left felt like ten.

Especiallywhen the bullshit lake was the most underwhelming thing I’d ever seen.

I mean, it was nice, but it wasn’t . . . it wasn’t what I’d expected. It didn’t glow. It wasn’t crystal blue. It was just . . . a regular lake.

I started laughing; then I started laughing like an idiot, tears bubbling up in my eyes as I cracked up some more.

“Oh, Mom, now I get what the wave was for.” So-so. It was for so-so. It had to be.

I’d expected to find some people around, but there was nobody. Had they kept on hiking? The Continental Divide was miles out, branching off from a different trail attached to this one.

I laughed even more, again.

Then I sat down on a wet log, toed my boots off as I ate my apple, enjoying the crunch and the sweetness. My fucking treat. Whipping my phone out, I took a selfie with the dumb-ass lake and laughed again.

Never again.

I took my socks off and wiggled my toes, keeping my ears open for animals and people, but there was nothing.

Ten minutes later, I got up, put my socks and shoes back on, zipped my jacket because the rain had seriously cooled everything down and the sun wasn’t out, and started the damn hike back.

Everything hurt. It felt like every one of my leg muscles was shredded. My calves were on the verge of dying. My toes were never going to forgive or forget this.

I’d lost my momentum having to stop for the rain, and another glance at my watch told me I’d lost two hours because of the weather and my breaks. What had seemed hard on the way to the lake was about a hundred times harder on the way back.

Fuck, shit, fucking shit, motherfucking fucker all came out of my mouth. How the hell anybody ran this was beyond me. I stopped what felt like every ten minutes, I was so tired, but still, I kept on going.

Two hours later, not knowing how I was going to survive the next three hours and eyeballing the damn clouds that were back again, I pulled out my phone and waited, hoping for service.

There wasn’t any.

I had to try to send a few messages out.

The first was to Rhodes.

Me:Running late. I’m okay. Heading back.

Then I sent Clara another with basically the same message.

And finally Amos got my third one.

Me:On my way back. I’m good. The weather turned bad.

I left my signal on, hoping it would eventually reconnect with a tower. The battery was at 80 percent, so I figured it would be good enough. I hoped.

The ground was slippery, the gravel dangerous under my boots, and that slowed me down even more. There was no one around. I couldn’t risk hurting myself.

I knew I was going to have to go even slower than I’d planned.

And the clouds opened up more, and I gave myself the middle finger for being a stubborn idiot.

I had to be careful. I had to be slow.

I couldn’t even call out for rescue because there wasn’t any service, and I wasn’t going to shame Rhodes by being that person who had to get saved. I could do this. My mom could do this. But . . .

If I made it out of here, I was never doing this shit alone again. Didn’t I know better? Of course I fucking did.

This was stupid.

I should’ve stayed home.

I wished I had more water.

I wasn’t going to hike at all next year.

I wasn’t going to walk anywhere ever again.

Oh God, I still had to drive home.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I wasn’t giving up. I could do this. I was going to make it.

I was never doing a difficult hike again. At least not in a day. Fuck that shit.

One foot after another took me down. I stopped. I hid under my tarp. The temperature started to drop, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t brought my thicker jacket. I knew better.

I layered Rhodes’s jacket over my pullover when I started to shiver.

My bottle was getting low even though I’d filled it up with water from a creek, and I started having to take the tiniest sips every time I stopped because there weren’t any more water sources.

My legs hurt worse and worse.

I couldn’t catch my breath.

I just wanted a nap.

And a helicopter to come save me.

My phone still wasn’t connecting.

I was so stupid.

I hiked and hiked. Down and down, slipping sometimes on the wet gravel and trying my best not to fall.

I did. I busted my ass twice and scraped my palms.

Two hours turned into three, I was going so slow. It was getting too dark.

I was cold.

I cried.

Then I cried more.

Genuine fear settled in. Had my mom been scared? Had she known she was screwed? I hoped not. God, I hoped not. I was scared already; I couldn’t imagine . . .

Half a mile to go, but it felt like thirty.

I took out my flashlight and put it in my mouth, clutching to my trekking poles for dear life because I would have probably died without them.

Big, fat, sloppy tears of frustration and fear ran down my cheeks, and I took out the flashlight to scream “fuck” a couple of times.

No one saw me. No one heard me. There was no one here.

I wanted to get home.

“Fuck!” I yelled again.

I was finishing this motherfucker, and I was never doing this so-so hike again. This was bullshit. What did I have to prove? Mom had loved this. I liked six-mile hikes. Easy and intermediate ones.

I was just kidding; I could do this. I was doing it. I was finishing it. It was okay to be scared, but I was getting out of here. I was.

A tenth of a mile left that switchbacked and rounded and dipped, and I was cold, wet, and muddy.

This sucked.

I glanced at my watch and groaned when I saw the time. It was six. I should’ve been done hours ago. I was going to be driving in the dark, and I mean the pitch-black shit. I could barely see anything now.

All right. It was all right. I’d just have to go really slow. Take my time. I could do it. I had a spare. I had a Fix-a-Flat. I knew how to change a tire.

I was going to make it home.

Everything hurt. I was pretty sure my toes were bleeding. The cartilage in my knees was shot.

This sucked.

I could do it.

It was fucking cold.

This sucked.

A couple more tears spilled out of my eyes. I was an idiot for doing this by myself, but I’d done it. Hail, some snow, rain, thunder, eating shit. I’d made it. I’d done this bitch-ass hike.

I was tired and a couple more tears came out of my eyes, and I wondered if I’d taken a wrong turn and was on a game trail instead of on the real trail because nothing looked familiar, but then again it was dark and I could barely see anything that was out of the beam of my flashlight.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Then I saw it, the big, low-hanging tree that I’d had to duck under right at the beginning of the hike.

I’d made it! I’d made it! I shivered so hard my teeth chattered, but I had an emergency blanket in my bag and in my car, and I had a thick, old jacket of Amos’s that had found its way in there somehow.

I made it.

More tears filled my eyes, and I stopped, tipping my head up. Part of me wished there were stars out that I could talk to, but there weren’t. It was too cloudy. But it didn’t stop me.

My voice was hoarse from the screaming and the lack of water, but it didn’t matter. I still said the words. Still felt them. “I love you, Mom. This sucked ass, but I love you and I miss you and I’m going to try my best,” I said out loud, knowing she could hear me. Because she always did.

And in a burst of energy I didn’t think I had in me, I took off running to my car, my toes crying, my knees giving up on my life, and my thighs shot for the rest of my existence—at least it felt like that in the moment. It was there.

The only one.

I didn’t know where the hell those other people had gone, but I had no energy left to wonder how I hadn’t run into them.

Fuckers.

As exhausted as I felt, I chugged down a quarter of my gallon bottle of water, stripped off Rhodes’s rain jacket and my damp one, and pulled Amos’s on. I took my shoes off and almost tossed them in the back seat but didn’t just in case I needed to get out of the car; instead, I propped them on the floor of the passenger seat. I wanted to look at my toes and see what the damage was, but I’d worry about it later.

I checked my service, but it was still nonexistent. I shot off a message to Rhodes and Amos anyway.

Me:Finally done, it’s a long story. I’m okay. Didn’t have service. I think the tower is down. On my way out, but I have to go slow.

Then I backed out and started the trip home. It was going to take about an hour to get there once I got off this sketchy part. Best-case scenario, it would be two hours to get to the highway.

And it was just as shit as I remembered. Worse even. But I didn’t care. I gripped the steering wheel for dear life, trying to remember what path I’d taken on the way up, but the rain had cleared my tracks.

I got this. I can do it, I told myself, driving literally two miles an hour and squinting like never before and hopefully never again.

My hands cramped, but I ignored them and the weird feeling of driving with no shoes on, but I wasn’t putting those boots back on anytime soon.

I drove, not turning on the radio because I had to concentrate.

I made it maybe a quarter of a mile down the road when two headlights flashed through the trees around a bend.

Who the hell was driving up here this late?

I cursed because the best path was straight down the middle, and it wasn’t like the road was wide to begin with. What were the chances? “Fuck,” I muttered just as the lights disappeared for a moment and then reappeared on the straightaway, coming toward me.

It was an SUV or a truck for sure. A big one. And it was going a hell of a lot faster than I was.

With a sigh, I pulled off to the side, zipping up Amos’s jacket to my chin, and then pulled off even more. With my luck today, I was going to get stuck.

No, I wasn’t. I was going to get home. I was going to—

I squinted at the approaching car.

The SUV slammed to a stop, and the driver’s-side door opened. I watched as a big figure jumped out and stopped in place for a second before starting to move again. Forward.

I locked my doors, then squinted again and realized . . . I knew that body. I recognized those shoulders. That chest. The cap on what was definitely a man’s head.

It was Rhodes.

I wouldn’t remember throwing my own door open, then reaching to grab my shoes and slipping them halfway on before sliding out of my car. But I’d remember hobbling forward with my boots barely hanging on by my toes and watching Rhodes make his way toward me too.

His face was . . . he looked furious. Why did that make me want to cry?

“Hi,” I called out weakly. Relief shot straight through me. My voice broke in half, and I said the last thing I would have wanted to. “I was so scared—”

Those big, muscular arms wrapped around me, the only thing holding me up, one hand going to palm the back of my head. My hair was wet with sweat—that shit wasn’t rain—but the entire length of his body pressed against mine. There and comforting, and everything I needed then and more.

That entire beefy, hunky body trembled lightly, I faintly noticed. “No more hiking by yourself,” he whispered roughly, so hoarse it scared me. “No more.”

“No more,” I agreed weakly. I shivered once in his arms, supported nearly completely by his frame. “It rained so much, and I don’t know where the fuck those clouds came from, but they were shitheads, and I had to hunker down.”

“I know. I thought something happened.” I was pretty sure he stroked the curve of my head. “I thought you got hurt.”

“I’m okay. Everything hurts, but just because I’m tired and these boots suck. I’m sorry.”

I felt him nod against me. “I came up here as fast as I could when your text came through. I had to go to Aztec and didn’t get service. Amos called me flipping out. He wanted to come, but I made him stay, and now he’s pissed off. I got here as fast as I could.” The hand on the back of my head swept down my spine, palming the small of my back, and there was no way I was imagining the fact he hugged me tight. “Don’t ever do that again, Aurora. Do you hear me? I know you can do this all by yourself, but don’t.”

At this point, I was never going hiking again. Ever. Another shiver shook through my body. “I’m so happy to see you, you have no idea. It was so dark, and I got really scared there for a while,” I admitted, feeling my own body start to tremble.

The hand on my head stroked down, pulling me in so close, I felt like if he could have put me inside of him, he would have.

“You’re fine though? You’re not hurt?” he asked.

“Nothing I won’t get over. Not like last time.” I pressed my cheek against his chest, savoring his warmth. His steadiness. I was fine. I was safe. “Thank you for coming.” I pulled back a little and gave him a small, sheepish smile. “Even though it’d be you they’d send in if I didn’t make it back, huh?”

Rhodes’s face was serious, his pupils wide, as he stared down at me, taking in my features with dark eyes. “I didn’t come because it’s my job.”

Then, before I could react, those arms were around me again, swallowing me up completely. A human cocoon I could have lived in for the rest of my life.

I didn’t imagine the faint tremble that shot through those hard muscles.

And I definitely didn’t imagine the fierce expression he shot me when he pulled back again. His hands moved to settle low on my back. “Are you fine to drive?”

I nodded.

One of those hands moved to squeeze my hip in a way I wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing it as his gaze roamed my face. “Buddy?”

“Hmm?”

“I want you to know . . . Amos is going to want to kill you.”

That was probably the only thing that could have made me laugh then, and I did. Then I told him the absolute truth. “That’s okay. I’m kind of looking forward to it.”