Chapter 12

Claire

How had I never seen trees before?

As I hiked, I took in all the different varieties: the ones with spiking pine needles I remember from elementary school to be coniferous, even though they were wildly more varied. And the leafy ones I never cared to register. The tall, thin ones with an almost white bark with black scratches were definitely aspens. Their leaves sparkled when I looked up through the canopy; their changing yellow leaves danced like sequins as the bright Colorado sun shone through them. The clear blue of the sky contrasted against the sharp yellows and oranges just starting to speckle through the verdant swatches of forest.

How far did Levi travel each day to look for the right wood? The roots of the newest one were so massive they didn’ t look like they belonged to anything around here. Did he travel to barter for tree parts? Was it legal to take fallen trees from the forest? A thousand more questions I wish I asked whorled through my brain as my legs pumped up the dirt trail.

Before he caught me leaving, I had my phone open, stealing his Wi-Fi to look him up in terms of the art world. I had searched for him before I came but never associated the man from that posting with the few articles about a local artist. One person was reselling an earlier piece of his, supposedly bought about five years ago. I was shocked at what they were asking for it. No wonder he could take his time and refuse to sell some of the pieces. He could probably ask for a lot more, and some super bougie-rich tourists would pay whatever.

Like that piece of art that he left covered that I couldn’t stop thinking about.

At first glance, it was a woman’s face, turned away, unfinished yet so realistic that I had to stop myself from reaching out to run my finger down her cheek to check the texture. She was carved from a log that still had its bark on the bottom half, and it spread up to cover her mouth. Her visible features were twisted in pain, and a natural split of the wood cracked from where her shoulder met her neck, splitting down through where her heart would be. Silenced. Broken. Desolate.

I had already suspected that Levi was grieving based on his tetchy behavior. Was he mourning a lost love? Was that the reason for the massive mood swings, or had I brought out the worst in him ?

I regretted pushing him. It wasn’t something I consciously did to people. I was so curious about everything, and I never seemed to register those subtle social cues of going too far that came so naturally to others. I had noticed his clenched jaw and angry brows when I pushed him about selling that last sculpture. I groaned at the tangible wince it caused when I thought of his frustration.

Kevin always gave me that flat look or sighed loudly, so I knew when to stop.

But then, when Levi shared his work and processes, his warm passion overflowed to me, and I felt like I was lit up for the first time in a while. It was so rare to have a genuine conversation with someone. Then he wrapped his arms around me. The short-circuiting of my brain. The unexpected attraction. The desire that blurred my rational mind.

“Nope,” I said loudly, startling a nearby bird from its perch.

I wouldn’t be thinking about that.

I stopped to take a drink from my water bottle, frowning when I discovered it was almost empty. I panted, wondering just how long I’d been walking, lost in thoughts of strong hands and competent workmanship as I was. A chill blew against my sweat-covered neck as a dark cloud moved over the sun. My watch said I’d walked almost two hours out. But that couldn’t be right. The trail I chose was only a two-mile loop. I should have circled back to the trailhead by now.

I took a deep breath in and out. The worst thing I could do was panic. I must have accidentally cut over to Cozy Creek Long at some point where they intersected. I concentrated on pulling up the mental map in my mind. Cozy Creek Long was a ten-mile loop. Based on my pace and how long I’d been going, I had to be halfway through, at least.

The only way out was through.

I was pretty sure this trail led to an overlook that might have a better range of the cell towers. I tried my phone map, but when I zoomed out to find the dot that was me, I lost all reception, and it wouldn’t load.

“It’s fine. You are fine . You have had plenty of water. You have a protein bar, and the temperatures are still mild. You are on the marked trail and have at least three hours until sunset. You are safe.” Saying it out loud managed to buoy my determination.

I shifted my pack and carried on. After another half mile or so, I was relieved to find the trees clearing and the terrain growing flat with large gray rocks—the sure sign of the overlook was coming up.

“See. You’re fine.” I reached the cliff's edge and took in the glorious valley below.

The trees below had started to pop off this high up, and the red, oranges, and yellows exploded in bursts throughout the tall green pines like fireworks.

The last sip of water would be saved as a victory chug when I got to the main road, so I would also need to wait on the chewy chocolate protein bar that would only activate my thirst. I stretched my arms over my head, resting for a moment. I turned to head back, feeling better and confident that I had only made a minor misstep. But I was young and healthy and would look back at this and laugh one day.

That was when I noticed the storm front.

A mass of dark gray clouds loomed over the eastern horizon. Streams of water and possibly snow poured from the quickly moving front like a massive eraser dragging over the earth’s surface to remove all color.

“Okay. You’re okay. Just need to head back with more speed.” I pulled out my phone, and with the towers in sight, I had a couple of bars of service.

“Hallelujah,” I mumbled.

I texted my dad and then decided to text Levi, sharing my exact location. The map wouldn’t load with the little bit of reception, so I continued to trust my mental math and keep a cool head.

I would be fine. It was far more downhill on the return. I could make good time.

Without any further discussion with myself, I began to walk/jog back the last half of the trail. I couldn’t think about how much I had left. I would be okay.

“Please don’t end up on the news,” I grumbled to myself.

No matter how I planned and thought things through, life had a way of throwing unexpected curveballs at me when I was distracted. I wasn’t a fan. I couldn’t blame anybody else for this either. It was my own stupid mistake. I’d been lost in thought and not focusing, and this was what happened. A consequence of my own actions , I could almost hear Kevin’s judgmental voice explain .

I wasn’t stupid. I was going to be okay.

As if to warn me, the wind kicked up, slicing right through my ironically named windbreaker.

“You had one job,” I said to the useless jacket. The wind brought the smell of moisture and colder temperatures with it.

Sure enough, the temperature dropped with every passing minute. The gathering clouds blocked out any light breaking through the canopy. It was light enough to see my feet scrambling over rocks and dirt, but just barely. The adrenaline kept me numb to the cold for now. I focused only on my feet, going as fast as possible while remaining safe. I recognized a few spots on the trail and felt reassurance of my plan.

I had this.

I was okay. I was kicking myself for walking to the trailhead instead of driving up from the cabin. It was less than a mile, and I thought it would only add to my short, pleasant walk. Now, when I got there, it would be almost another mile walk down the scary main road, possibly in the pouring rain at that point. Nope. Not thinking about that right now. One thing at a time.

Then the first drops of fat, freezing rain hit my face and blurred my vision.

“You’re okay. Stay calm.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline or the stacking fears or the rain falling heavier and soaking through my thin layers, but shivers began to wrack through me, causing my teeth to chatter. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Just like my whole life. You do the next step. One choice and the next .

When my foot slipped, and I fell, the last remaining calm began to shatter. I yelped out more in surprise than anything, but it was lost in the rain hammering the leaves. I pulled myself up and refused to look at my leg but felt cold, wet air hitting exposed, burning skin.

I wasn’t a stupid person. I knew better than this, and now I would be a cliché. I was going to die with everybody thinking I was an idiot.

“They’re just pants. You can still walk. You’re fine.” Even as I said it, I felt my eyes burning hot from tears and not the snow-rain combo.

I was limping heavily now, body frozen and soaked.

Just keep going.

One more step .

People have made it through way worse.

But the reality was I was alone. Alone in a life of my own making.

I stopped and sagged against a tree that provided a decent amount of shelter. I had one person I could tell about this hike who would actually care if I never made it back. My online friends would be sad, but we never met in real life. It would be so much easier to compartmentalize the loss in the constant bombardment of terrible news shared online every day. Kevin might be sad but maybe also a little smug in thinking that I would have been safe if I had just chosen him.

My poor father. To lose us both. He would be okay. He had his friends .

I wiped a hand over my face, unsure what was tears from my imagined death or the weather.

The absurdity hit me all at once.

I cackled loudly in the now-pounding weather. I was really sitting here planning out my own funeral?

“You. Are. Fine.” I gritted my teeth. I pushed myself off the tree even though my leg was smarting now. The break gave my adrenaline a chance to settle down, and the pain in my extremities sank in.

“You have an article to finish and an ex-boyfriend to prove wrong.”

I quickened my pace. As I rounded a tight bend, a flash of light caught my attention. Up ahead, a tall, dark figure, hooded under a heavy poncho, shone a flashlight in the clouded-over afternoon.

A shout was muffled as it carried on the wind.

Was that for me? I stumbled ever closer, warning myself not to be too hopeful or let my guard down.

“Claire!”

“Levi?” I gasped out.

It was him. The closer I got to him, the more clearly his sharp features, long hair, and tall figure focused.

I was close enough to see his worry as he yelled.

“Here!” I shouted with my whole being.

His gaze shot straight to mine. Several yards and swirling snow, and he found me instantly.

Levi had come for me. The relief was so all-consuming and instant that my knees almost gave out.

I couldn’t help myself. I started bawling.

I totally would have been okay on my own, but now, I didn’t have to be.

The same relief coursing through my body just moments ago was written all over him as he ran my way. I wanted to shout to him to go slow and be careful, but all I could do was stumble in his direction, arms reaching like an unsteady toddler.

My teeth chattered, my body shivering so hard I almost couldn’t talk. “H-hi,” I said and threw myself against him.

He made an oomph of surprise as he absorbed my impact.

I held on like I had any right to. I wrapped myself up in him, his body heat infusing my bones with warmth I thought I’d never feel again. His scent, like home, overtook the wet, earthy smell of the world around us, a balm to my panic. I sank into his strength, protecting and comforting. His arms banded tight around me; my ear pressed against his chest, listening to the solid and erratic beat of his heart. His large hand cradled my head, pressing me into him like he was also seeking comfort in the knowledge that I was okay and safe. His fingers stroked my soaked hair, soothing even as they snagged.

And it all felt so right.

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