Chapter 34
Every breath is a struggle, each inhale laden with the musty scent of fear and uncertainty. The silence is broken only by the distant howl of the wind, a haunting reminder of the vast wilderness that surrounds this hidden enclave of madness.
—Ghost Lake by Ava Howell Brooks
They drove down the mountain mostly in silence, with only the occasional comment about the slick conditions.
Madi sat in the back seat of the side-by-side while Cullen was in front with Luke. Whenever the moon would emerge from the clouds, she could see his features in profile. They looked carved out of stone, as forbidding as the peaks around them, but every so often, she would see the utter devastation in his eyes and her heart would break all over again.
Finally, after what felt like forever, they reached the pickup truck. Luke started the truck for her and Madi again slid into the back seat of his crew cab as he and Cullen loaded the side-by-side onto the trailer. The atmosphere was warmer here inside the truck but no less fraught with emotion.
When they reached the farmhouse, three interminable hours after they set off, she unlocked the front door. Nicki must have gone to bed as the living room was dark.
“Ava is in my bedroom,” she told Cullen, pointing to the door.
He stood outside the room, his hand on the knob, then seemed to square his shoulders before he opened it and slipped through.
Luke had walked them up to the house, she suspected because he didn’t feel right about simply dropping them off and driving away.
Now he waited on the porch, petting Mo, who had walked out when Madi opened the door.
She walked back outside to the quiet night. After the rain, the air smelled fresh and lovely.
He straightened up when she came outside.
“Thank you for everything. I probably could have made it up to the camp by myself but I’m so grateful I didn’t have to.”
She didn’t think through the wisdom of it, she only acted on impulse, moving toward him and wrapping her arms around his waist.
He exhaled as if he had been waiting for exactly this and pulled her close. They stood that way for a long time while crickets chirped and an owl hooted somewhere in the nearby trees.
Her heart seemed to overflow with love for this man, who had been willing to drop everything and come running when she needed help.
When he lowered his head and kissed her, it seemed inevitable. The kiss was slow and gentle, less about passion, after their difficult evening, and more about tenderness.
His gentle touch just about shattered her emotions.
She loved him. It seemed absurd that she hadn’t realized it a long time ago. The words almost spilled out but she held them back, afraid of ruining everything.
He was the first to step away and a shiver rippled through her at the loss of his heat, though the evening wasn’t particularly cold now that the rain had stopped.
“You need to get some rest.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep,” she admitted. “My mind is whirling a hundred miles an hour.”
He smiled. “I know a good book you could read.”
She couldn’t help her rough laugh. “Enough already. What are you, Ava’s publicist or something?”
“No. I don’t think she needs me to hand sell her book. It seems to be doing fine on its own. It really is a beautiful book. It might give you a different perspective about Ava. And maybe about yourself.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, which she considered a huge concession. “You’d better get home to Sierra.”
“You’re right.” He kissed her forehead again. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night, Luke. And thank you again.”
He kissed her one more time, with that same aching tenderness, then turned and hurried down the steps.
After a moment, Madi went inside the house, Mo on her heels. Mabel was nowhere in sight and she assumed she was either with Nicki or had stayed to comfort Ava.
It occurred to Madi for the first time that she couldn’t sleep in her own bed since Ava and Cullen were there. She found clean pajamas in the laundry room and changed into them after she quickly showered off the mud and grime from the ride, then headed for their tiny guest room.
On the way, she spied Nicki’s copy of Ghost Lake on the side table in the living room. Impulsively, she picked it up and carried it to the narrow bed in the guest room. She would read for a while, she decided, which was probably all she could manage before she fell asleep.
Hours later, right before sunrise, she closed the book, mentally and physically exhausted.
Tears dripped down her cheeks for her brilliant, beautiful, brave sister, who had somehow managed to condense all of the fear and trauma into a story that, far from feeling exploitative or sad, resonated with humor, with compassion and with hope.