Chapter 12 Brenna
Chapter twelve
Brenna
The hiking boots I ordered online a few weeks ago feel stiff around my ankles as Eric and I approach the trailhead marker pointing toward Maple Ridge.
Maybe, I should have broken them in rather than wearing them for the first time on a hike, but it seems to be the story of my life lately. Leap headfirst and see where I land.
“We’ll start easy and see how you do.” Eric hands me one of the water canteens he’s brought, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles. “But something tells me you’re tougher than you look.”
The crisp fall morning nips at my cheeks. Each breath of sharp mountain air feels fresh, cleaner than anything I’ve ever breathed in the city. Even Central Park seems like a dull replica of nature out here, where the trees stretch as far as the eye can see.
“See those clouds?” Eric points to a line of white gathering in the distance as we hit the trail. “That’ll bring weather this afternoon, but we’ll be back down by then.”
I study the sky, trying to read the signs he sees so easily. “How can you tell?”
“Wind direction, their shape, the way they’re moving.
You learn to watch for it up here.” He adjusts the straps of his pack.
“Your mother couldn’t read weather worth a damn.
Insisted on hitting the slopes one day because the sun was shining at the lodge, even though we couldn’t see the top of the lifts. ”
“What happened?”
“Had to ski her down between my legs like a five-year-old when visibility dropped to nothing.” His chuckle echoes off the trees. “Stubborn as hell, but I loved that about her.”
I glimpse what my mother must have seen in a younger version of this man all those years ago.
The easy confidence, the way he takes care of people.
For the first time, I understand how she could have fallen for him so quickly, how she could have slept with him after knowing him only a few days.
I can’t miss the parallel to my own situation with Graham and wonder if maybe, she and I are more alike than I like to admit.
The trail starts to climb, switch backing through stands of maple and birch. Leaves crunch under our boots. Gold and red foliage drifts down like random pieces of confetti, and the altitude makes every inhale feel earned.
“Tell me about your life in the city,” Eric says. “What did you do? Besides charity galas and looking the part.”
I almost stumble over a root. “How did you—”
“Did some digging after you left yesterday.” There’s no judgment or guilt in his voice, just curiosity. “Wasn’t hard once I knew your new last name. Plenty of information online about The Buchanans.”
I cringe at the way he says the name. As if being a member of that family is like being royalty. “I tried to find my own path. Went to art school for a little while, but my stepfather…” I trail off, unsure how to explain Richard’s suffocating expectations.
“Didn’t approve?”
“He sees art as only an investment. Thinks making it yourself is a waste of time.” I can’t hide the bitterness that creeps into my voice. “Maybe, he’s right, but doing it well is the only thing I’ve ever had to try hard at. I’ve never had to struggle, really struggle, for anything else.”
Eric stops walking, turning to face me on the narrow trail. “Struggling isn’t just about money. Sometimes, the hardest fight is figuring out who you are when everyone else has already decided for you.”
The understanding in his green eyes, which look so much like my own, makes my throat tight. He sounds like Graham the other night. Full of wisdom. Experienced in the world, not just in a boardroom.
We climb higher, the trail growing steeper as it winds around granite outcroppings. My calves burn with a satisfying ache. Sweat beads at my temples then immediately cools in the mountain breeze. Without thinking, I climb over a fallen moss-covered log that blocks the path.
“Nice,” Eric says, following me. “Most flatlanders would’ve gone around or needed a hand.”
Pride floods through me. I hadn’t even thought about it. I just moved. As if my body knows how to navigate this terrain, though I haven’t been here long.
“This place gets in your blood,” Eric continues as we climb. “Once it does, everywhere else feels like you’re holding your breath.”
I know what he means. After only two days, the thought of returning to climate-controlled air and the concrete jungle makes anxiety creep up my spine.
The trail levels out as we round a bend, and suddenly, the world opens up. Layer upon layer of mountains roll all the way to the horizon, their peaks painted in every shade of autumn.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, stopping in my tracks.
“This is where I came,” Eric says quietly. “After I returned from the city knowing I’d never see Caroline—or you—again.”
I can see why. The vastness makes problems feel smaller, more manageable. Like maybe, there’s room in the world for all the messy, complicated feelings swirling in my chest.
We find a flat boulder to sit on, and Eric pulls granola bars from his pack. For a while, we rest in comfortable silence, watching the clouds cast shadows across the valley below.
“Brenna?” he asks after a long minute, tucking his empty wrapper in his pocket.
“Yeah?”
“When are you going to ask me about Graham?”
Graham? Why would he be asking me that? As far as he knows, Graham and I only met yesterday, at the brewery, when he introduced us. “What?”
“Honey.” His voice is gentle but knowing as he shoots me a sidelong glance. “I may have missed twenty-two years, but I’m still your father. And Graham Hughes drove into town twice yesterday, something he never does. Unless he’s got a damn good reason.”
My fingers tighten around my canteen. “Twice?”
“He came to see me last night.”
My heartrate kicks up a notch. “He did?”
“Told me everything. About the storm. About you staying at his place.” Eric’s expression is unreadable. “About what happened between the two of you, too.”
Mortification burns through me. “Oh God. What did you say?”
“I was pissed at first,” he admits. “Not because of what happened, although, okay, maybe a little because of that. But more so because he didn’t come clean at the brewery.
He pretended not to know you and let me go on about meeting my daughter when he’d already…
” He shakes his head. “But then he asked for my permission to be with you.”
“Permission?” The word comes out strangled. He went to Eric. Graham faced my father…his best friend. The knowledge I’m not the only one wanting whatever this is between us is…a relief.
And it confirms the hope that bloomed in my chest this morning when I woke up in his room this morning to find him sleeping in a wooden chair beside the bed, his long frame folded uncomfortably as if he’d been watching over me all night.
Because despite what happened in his workshop, I wasn't willing to give up on him, not without a fight.
Though I wasn’t sure what had changed after he’d stormed off. After he’d made it clear he couldn’t be with me because of who I am. But now? Hearing he went to see Eric, it makes perfect sense.
“Old-fashioned, I know,” Eric continues. “But that’s Graham. He felt guilty for betraying my trust even though he didn’t know who you were at the time. Was worried he’d ruined our relationship before we even had a chance.”
“He didn’t, though.” My swift, adamant response earns a nod.
Eric reaches over, laying a hand on mine. “No, he didn’t.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. “What did you tell him?”
Eric turns serious, his gaze falling to the ground. “I told him it’s your choice. That you’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions about who you want to be with.” He pauses, and something shifts in his voice. “I also told him if he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
“You gave him your blessing?”
“It’s the option Caroline never had.”
Oh. It’s at this moment I realize how big Eric Truett’s heart is. He’s giving me what my grandfather robbed him of. The freedom to be with a woman who loves him, to give her his blessing rather than hold her back. I turn to face him, so grateful this man is in my life now.
“I’ve known Graham for a long time,” he continues, taking my empty wrapper and adding it to his pocket. “He’s not the type to mess around or take advantage of a woman. I trust there’s something there for you, too. For that to happen the night you met.”
I can’t imagine Graham mentioned my virginity when he confessed to Eric, and a small part of me wonders if my father’s reaction would be the same if he knew.
And actually, I wonder now if the case wasn’t the same with my mother when she met Eric.
She always said it only takes once to get pregnant.
Not that I want to dwell on the thought.
“There was,” I confess, thinking back to that night. To the moment I saw that mountain of a man across the meadow coming out to rescue me in the middle of the storm. “I felt…something. But…”
But then everything changed.
“If he asked for my permission, it means he’s serious.
Means he’d move heaven and earth for you if you let him.
But he might need some time to come around.
Graham came back from overseas broken. Took him years to find his footing again.
Woodworking helped, of course. But you’re the first woman he’s been willing to lay his heart on the line for. ”
The wind picks up. I look out over this vista that feels like home in a way nowhere else ever has. In the distance, the clouds still approach, but for now, the sun warms my face.
“What if I’m not built for this?” I gesture at the surrounding mountains, uncertainty creeping in, despite my resolve to embrace who I am. “For a relationship?”
“You’ll learn.” Eric’s smile is warm, confident. “Wildwood has a way of teaching you who you really are, if you’re brave enough to listen. And you’ll have both of us by your side as you do.”
With that, we start the hike back down, my legs trembling from the descent but my heart feeling lighter than it has in years. The conversation with my father has shifted my perspective. It reminded me of the reason I headed up to the mountains in the first place.