Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
noia
The drive through the mountains is beautiful as the roads wind through dense forests and past rushing streams. Ryder’s truck handles the rough terrain with ease, and despite my initial protests, I find myself pretty relaxed.
“So where are we going, exactly?” I ask, watching the scenery blur past.
“A place I used to go when I needed to clear my head.”
One of his large hands is resting on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift. When he shifts, his forearm flexes.
I squeeze my thighs together.
“It’s peaceful and private.” His lips curve into that maddening smirk. “Perfect for what I have in mind.”
The way he says it makes heat pool low in my belly. “And what is that?”
“You’ll see.”
After about an hour, he turns onto a narrow dirt road that’s barely wide enough for the truck to get through the trees without scratching it up. The truck bounces and lurches over rocks and roots, and I have to grip the door handle to keep from sliding around.
“Jesus, Ryder. Are you sure this is actually a road?”
“Relax, kitten. We’re almost there.”
Finally, he pulls into a small clearing and cuts the engine. Aside from the sound of wind through the trees and birds chirping, the silence is instant and overwhelming.
He climbs out of the truck and grins. “From here, we hike.”
I jump down and follow him around back where he starts grabbing the camping gear. “How far is it?”
“About twenty minutes. So not too bad.” He shoulders a large backpack before handing me the smaller one. “This is for you to carry. Just water and snacks.”
The trail is well-worn but steep, winding through towering pines and over rocky outcroppings.
After the first ten minutes, my legs start to burn, but I refuse to complain.
Ryder is about ten feet ahead of me, occasionally looking back to make sure I’m keeping up. “You doing okay back there?”
“Perfect,” I pant, wiping sweat from my forehead.
Just when I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to collapse, the trees open up and I gasp.
The alpine lake is pristine. Its surface shines like glass reflecting the surrounding peaks. The water is so clear I can see smooth stones sitting on the bottom. The whole scene looks like something from a freaking postcard.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “This is incredible.”
“Told you.”
Ryder drops his pack and starts setting up camp while I just stand there gawking at the view for a couple minutes before moving to help.
The tent goes up quickly, followed by a small camp stove and a circle of stones for a fire pit.
“How did you find this place?”
“Trial and error. After I got out of rehab, I needed somewhere to go where I could think. Figure out who I was without the pills.” He tosses the sleeping bags into the tent. “I’d come up here for days at a time, to breathe in the silence.”
“That must have been lonely,” I say softly.
“It was. But also necessary.” He straightens, storm-gray eyes meeting mine. “I needed to learn how to be alone with myself before I could be with anyone else.”
The raw honesty in his voice makes my chest tighten. This is the most he’s ever opened up about his recovery.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever brought up here.” He glances up from where he’s crouched by the fire pit. “This place is... special.”
Before I can respond, he looks away and starts pulling items from his pack. “We’ve got a little over an hour before dark. Want to explore a bit?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. The fact that he’s sharing this sacred space with me feels monumental.
We spend some time hiking around our side of the lake. As we walk, Ryder points out different rock formations and wildlife. He’s surprisingly knowledgeable, and I find myself hanging on his every word.
When we find a fallen log by the water’s edge, we sit.
“I used to come up here when the nightmares got bad,” he says quietly. “Something about being this far from civilization, this close to something bigger than myself... it seemed to help.”
“You still have them, don’t you? The nightmares?”
“Sometimes.” He stays quiet for a few moments. “They’re not as frequent as they used to be, but...” He shrugs. “PTSD doesn’t just go away.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I want to reach for him, but I’m not sure if I should. “Is that why you looked like you hadn’t slept the other morning last week?”
“Yeah.” He looks at me, eyes soft. “But even with that, they’ve been better since I’ve been living with you.”
My heart stutters. “Really?”
“Really.” He stands and holds out his hand. “Come on. Let’s head back before it gets dark.”