Chapter 63
Liz ran from the pinnacle, feet pounding. Rock and boulder and earth and stone. Breath ragged, mouth slack.
Her thoughts were burning, too hot to touch. Her hair had come loose from its ponytail, swinging and tangling at her shoulders. Cold sweat cloaked her skin.
She was sweat and rage and the pulse of blood.
She didn’t know where she was going—just kept running. Mist had thickened into fog, concealing the mountain. But it was there—brutal and impersonal.
“FUCK YOU!” she screamed into the fog, throat raw, lips cracking. She wanted rocks to teeter, the earth beneath her to rumble, splinter, fall away.
Everything she’d believed was solid and stable and true was a lie! She lurched on, feeling the heat of her own breath as she panted. She gouged her fingers into her hairline.
Love, Joni had said.
The word on her lips had been a blade.
Tears rolled down Liz’s face. She heard herself sobbing, the sound so distant and strange, a wailing misery echoing through the mountain.
Everything that she’d held in—all those emotions and worries that she’d neatly filed, telling herself instead to focus on the positives.
Be grateful. Remain polite. Never offend.
Stay calm and supportive and strong and busy.
Because that is who you are, Liz Wallace.
You help others. You lead. You can be relied upon. Trusted.
She made a strange barking sound, half laugh, half choked sob. That Liz was gone!
When she’d stepped forward on that pinnacle, hands reaching for Joni, the old Liz Wallace would have shown discipline. Stopped herself. Taken a step back. Allowed Joni to apologize, speak, explain.
But this Liz—she’d seen the widening of Joni’s eyes, registered the first flicker of fear as Joni realized she was so close to the edge—had wanted it. Wanted Joni to be afraid.
You can’t go into the wilderness without uncovering your wild self.
She had squeezed harder, feeling the bones of Joni’s shoulders beneath her grip, pushing her thumbs into her collarbones.
She’d stared into her face, at those deep brown eyes with their thick, dark lashes—and had seen nothing she recognized.
Their noses almost touched as Liz hissed, “Helena was right. We mean nothing to you. Because you are empty.”
Joni had blinked, eyes swimming with tears.
Liz had felt the wild race of her heartbeat and the heat of Joni’s body beneath her hands.
Behind her, only the mountain had watched.