Chapter Six
Amanda
I will never open my heart again to another man.
That is a promise I made myself five years ago.
It’s been easy to avoid them. My life is my son, and when I’m not with him, I dive into my work.
Every day, I operate with blinders on—outside of my photography and Tyler.
Sure, I miss a man’s touch, but I also miss the feeling of sharing my life with someone else.
I miss trusting someone on the most intimate level, not only with my body, but with my mind.
I miss the feeling that this person you are connected to would never hurt you.
That their eye would never wander, and you never had to worry about where they were, what they were doing, or who they were talking to.
That they were your person, and you wanted the best for each other and would support each other through thick and thin.
I had that once, lost it, and it destroyed me.
Altered my DNA, and I will never be the same again.
When I look at Spencer, I feel hope, and I feel alive, despite being in a situation where death could be around the next corner.
What would it feel like to have his hands on me?
To kiss that exquisite mouth? How would it feel to have the weight of him on top of me, or to ride him and look into those heated, dark eyes?
He feels it, too. I know he does, but it’s a matter of which broken soul will make the first move, and are we brave enough?
He yanks me against him, and I bury my face against his neck as he pulls the blankets up higher around us.
“Let’s get some sleep. Maybe we can get home before Christmas.
” Tears spring into my eyes as I hug him tighter.
Hope. Spencer is hope. Hope to return home and that my heart could feel again.
As I drift off against him, I see my son on Christmas morning.
Thoughts of him bursting into my room and jumping on me in bed and then pulling me out of it.
Visions of the decorated tree and the joy of him tearing through the presents.
The mess and the chaos of Christmas morning.
I will see that again here on Earth and not just in my dreams.
We rise at dawn the next morning to do it all over again on hollowed bellies and searing bodies.
Spencer has a torch in one hand and the other around my waist as I lean against him, taking the pressure off my leg.
Despite the steep slope of the terrain, we climb as one.
We make it to the top of the next ridge.
The jagged peaks taunt us as far as the eye can see.
“Just one more mountain,” Spencer says as he slings an arm around my shoulder and tightens me against him.
“Just one more mountain,” I repeat. The next one we climb could be it.
The one where we see signs of human life.
We dig our feet into the snow on our descent, sliding on our asses when needed and using the trees as resting points and brakes.
I have turned the sharp pain in my ankle to a dull one by training my mind to think elsewhere.
To think of holding my son in my arms again and replaying moments like his first soccer game and reading books in bed until he fell asleep against me.
I’m also focusing on Spencer and his energy. It’s calming, grounding, and magnetic.
Spencer and I both halt as a metal fin pokes through the thick layer of snow, fanning into a torpedo-shaped end of a plane. “The black box,” I mutter.
Spencer hands me the torch and dashes over to it, delving through the snow.
He stills, then slumps his shoulders as his head falls.
“Fuck! I knew it!” he shouts, slamming his fist into the ice, and for the first time, visibly comes apart as his cheeks turn crimson with a vein straining down the side of his neck.
“What is it?”
“The tracker, it’s destroyed,” he bites out, his words clipped as he clutches his head, still crouched on the ground.
I limp over to him and gaze down at the black box with warped metal and a deep, jagged chunk ripped out of the center. My heart shrinks in my chest despite already suspecting this. They would have found us by now if it were intact.
He sighs heavily and slides his hands off his head, then rises and faces me. “This doesn’t change anything. We knew it. Let’s keep moving. How is your leg holding up?”
“It’s the same. Feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it.”
“Come here.” He takes the torch from my hand, steps against me, and loops his arm around my waist as I rest mine across the back of his shoulders.
We slide and stumble down the slope, gusts of wind whipping our faces and stinging our eyes.
There are times when I lean on Spencer, and others when I want to be on my own, as he is already dragging our supplies behind him and carrying the torch.
The pain lancing through my leg is both a blessing and a curse as it continues to dull other areas of my body that are burning with fatigue and inflammation.
“Stop,” Spencer whispers and seizes my arm.
“What is it?”
“We have visitors.”
“What?”
“Just over there.” He points to the trees.
There’s movement through the snow, like the forest is coming alive.
A white head lifts, and two sets of yellow eyes meet us.
A pair of wolves is about fifty yards away.
My skin tingles as goose bumps skitter down my spine.
Spencer quickly reaches into the tarp to pull out the other torch while I grab a spear.
He feeds the tip of the torch into the already ignited one. His head swivels around.
“The pack could close in from other directions.” I scan the forest and don’t see any other movement. The other torch catches fire, and he hands it to me. “Drop the spear. If they get close, wave them off with that. It will be more effective.”
“Should we keep moving?”
“Yes. Just keep your eyes peeled at all times. If they get too close, we’ll stop and stand back-to-back against them.”
“Okay,” I say with a shaky breath. My legs are heavy and trembling as we press forward. The two wolves continue to keep pace with us, as quiet as two white ghosts.
“Amanda, we’re going to make it,” Spencer says as we continue to descend.
“We will.”
Those are the only words uttered between us for the next several hours before we break for lunch of a few morsels.
The wolves have left us, but we still take turns holding the torches while the other eats.
We replicate yesterday, crossing over the valley and up the mountain, setting up camp on the mountainside with the fire protecting the tent.
Our arms wrap around each other inside, spears next to us, alert for the wolves, cuddling for warmth, afraid, and our bodies both hyperaware of the other’s presence.
The only kisses Spencer has offered have been gentle ones on my forehead as I’ve cried in his arms for Tyler.
The sun peaks over the mountain the next morning, and we rise with it.
The oranges, pinks, and purples that streak the sky ignite the winter wonderland around us.
My body screams, and my leg throbs with each step, and Spencer continues to drag the tarp behind him.
I use my hands to help guide me up the mountain.
The repetitiveness of the snow moving underneath me sends me to a trancelike state as I climb, but I still keep my head on a swivel.
Spencer holds the torch in one hand and uses the other to lean on the mountain.
Shadows emerge from the trees as the wolves return.
This time, there are several more that surround us from both sides, keeping pace with us and moving closer, snouts lifted in the air, smelling our scent.
“Don’t act afraid. Control your fear; they can sense it.
We are not their prey and will teach them a lesson that we are the predator if we need to. ” He hands me the other torch.
A gray one closes the distance and approaches us as it drops its head.
Its body language doesn’t look threatening, only curious.
Its jowls are relaxed, and its ears are back, but in a friendly manner as it rubs its cheek against another wolf.
It trots forward on Spencer’s side, and he freezes, holding up his hand while slowly extending the torch forward.
“That’s close enough,” he says. The wolf stills and cocks its head, analyzing us with intelligent eyes as the surrounding pack continues to frolic and play.
It springs forward, and panic shoots through me as Spencer thrusts the fire close to the wolf’s face.
It whimpers and shrinks back. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.
I know this is your home, but we are just passing through.
” The wolf shakes its head before fixating its yellow eyes on us again as the others join by its side but don’t advance closer.
The three nearest me keep their distance as I point the torch in their direction.
“Do we have an understanding?” says Spencer. “Keep moving,” he says to me.
We continue to conquer the mountains each day, step by step, side by side.
Some days, the wolves keep pace with us; others, we don’t see them.
Spencer marks a perimeter around our campsite at night, and we continue to use the fire as protection as well as for warmth, and our own body heat wrapped in each other’s arms and cocooned in blankets at night.