Chapter 25 Ruger
Ruger
I spent most of yesterday and last night thinking about Remi’s reaction to finding out Wrenley and I slept together. Okay, maybe not all night. There were a few hours that made sustained contemplation difficult. But before and after, I found myself replaying it all in my mind.
I always assumed that by now, Remi would be over what happened between Aurora and me. In my mind, enough time had passed that it belonged firmly in the past. Aurora and I broke up, she left Alaska, life moved on. At least that’s how I look at it now.
But I realize I never stopped to consider it from Remi’s perspective. Aurora was one of Remi’s closest friends, and she didn’t just leave Alaska; she left completely. I’m sure it confused Remi because she never picked sides. She heard us both out, validated us both. Yet somehow, she lost the most.
So I can see why this worries her. She’s afraid that if we don’t work, then Wrenley will leave too.
I know it should make me pause, but I can’t bring myself to.
Maybe that makes me selfish, but the idea of walking away from Wrenley now feels worse than the possibility of getting hurt later.
At least this way, we’re being honest about what we want and giving this a chance.
Right now, I will take whatever she’s willing to give because if this is all I get, then I’m going to hold on to it for as long as possible.
But today, I decided I was done borrowing trouble from the future.
Today, Wrenley and I are free from work. Brandt is in town, and Remi can be convinced to join any activity with the promise of food afterward. That seems like enough of a reason to get outside. So I decided what we need is a good hike.
The gravel crunches beneath my boots as I climb out of my truck. The air is sharp with the tang of pine. The trailhead sign sways precariously on the post as a breeze pushes through, and I take in a deep breath.
This is what I love. The way the mountains seem to stretch forever, unbothered by the drama that is consuming the people living beneath them.
The endless trails to follow and get lost on.
The summits that can be reached. Out here, the problems have solutions, and the challenges can be met with preparation and a level of stubbornness.
I can’t believe you convinced me to do this, Wrenley says as she walks around the back of the truck.
I open the back door and pull out two backpacks I prepared, handing one to her. Can’t come to Alaska without some hiking.
She takes the bag. I was warned about hiking with you.
I wave her off. I promise this is a beginner trail.
Wrenley walks around in a small circle before looking at me again. So this is it, eh? The great Alaskan wilderness?
My mouth tips at one corner. This is the parking lot.
Right. But beyond this parking lot is certain death.
Highly probable for you, I say, deadpan.
She playfully swats my arm, but all it does is earn her a trip straight into my arms. I catch her around the waist and tug her against me.
Her laugh catches in her throat as she lands against my chest, and I grin down at her.
Sunlight catches in her beautiful eyes, and I find myself wondering, not for the first time, how I got so lucky.
Seriously, though, she says, her voice lower. There aren’t, like, bears waiting to ambush us the second we step onto the trail, right?
I cough to cover a laugh. Like some kind of elite bear CIA?
She glares, and then I really do laugh. I pull her closer and kiss the top of her head. Don’t worry. I have a gun.
She steps out of my arms, horrified. Near me?
You’re perfectly safe, I assure her.
She presses her lips together, looking wholly unconvinced.
Come here, baby. I pull her back into me. You’ll be fine. I’ve got you.
She melts against me a little, and I revel in the feel of it. I hope she knows I don’t just mean from bears, but from everything.
The sound of tires on gravel breaks us from our moment. I turn my head toward the road, and my brows pinch as a blue SUV with two people pulls in next to my truck.
That’s Brandt’s rental, I mumble as I let go of Wrenley.
Remi bounces out of the passenger side, all sunshine and ponytail, while Brandt unfolds lazily from the driver’s seat.
Gorgeous day, Remi says, tilting her face up to the clear blue sky.
It’s nice for October, Brandt agrees. He opens the back of the SUV and pulls out a backpack.
I furrow my brows. Why did you two come together? I ask, moving a finger back and forth between them.
Remi shrugs. We happened to both be at Alpine Brewing last night and thought it made sense. Save gas, the environment, blah, blah, blah. Come on! Nature won’t wait for us.
It’s stagnant, I point out.
Still!
Before I can ask any follow-up questions, Remi links her arm through Wrenley’s and starts dragging her toward the trail.
I turn my attention to Brandt, who’s clipping his backpack around his waist. His eyes catch mine. Ready?
So, are you going to explain anything? I gesture at the SUV.
Brandt shrugs. Just what Remi said. We were going to the same place, and it made sense to carpool.
Since when do you and my sister carpool?
Since we discovered the environmental benefits of reducing our carbon footprints.
I stare at him, not liking the sarcasm in his tone. He holds my gaze for all of two seconds before rolling his eyes. She tested me. I was leaving. I picked her up.
That’s it?
That’s it. He adjusts the strap of his backpack. ‘Why are you so interested in who your sister drives places with?”
I’m not interested.
Could’ve fooled me.
You showed up together.
And you’re marrying her best friend. He gestures toward Wrenley further up the trail. I think it’s safe to assume people’s lives overlap sometimes.
I narrow my eyes at him.
Brandt grins and claps me on the shoulder. Come on, Detective Seale. Your fiancée is getting away.
My attention wanders to Wrenley. Watching her walk ahead, I suppose Brandt has a point. Sometimes lives intertwine in ways you don’t expect. When I look back, he’s already heading after the others.
Smartass.
We fall into step behind the women. Remi’s ponytail is swinging back and forth as she talks, her hands moving as much as her mouth. Wrenley laughs at something she’s said, and the sound drifts back through the trees, light and melodic and impossible not to smile at.
While the girls chatter happily ahead of us, Brandt and I are walking in complete silence.
We’ve spent enough time together that neither of us feels the need to fill every quiet moment.
We’ve hunted together, camped together, and spent days in the bush sharing little more than a grunt or observation about the weather and notes on animal sign.
Brandt walks over to a tree marked with long claw scratches.
Fresh? I ask, my gaze automatically moving to the women ahead of us.
Remi can hold her own in the woods. Growing up here, with parents like ours who practically raised us in the bush, there’s no other choice than to be capable in wildlife situations.
Wrenley, on the other hand, had a hard time with bats.
The last thing I want is for her to panic in a situation that requires calm.
I don’t want to think what might happen.
Brandt runs his fingers over the grooves. Not fresh, fresh. The wood’s still pretty light underneath, but the edges are starting to weather.
That means a bear’s been through here recently. It’s not enough to make me worried that we’re about to round a corner and bump into it, but I’m definitely more aware of our surroundings.
Bears are a part of life up here. Most of the time, they want nothing to do with people, and in my line of work, it’s people’s actions that are more worrisome than the bears themselves.
Lately, though, every potential danger comes with Wrenley’s face attached to it.
It’s unsettling, and all I want is for her to be safe. I’ll do anything to make sure of that.
Brandt comes back onto the trail, and as we continue climbing, both of us spend a little more time scanning the brush and listening to the woods around us.
How are things going? Brandt asks after a few moments of quiet. With the wedding coming up. Cold feet or anything?
Cold feet? Maybe. Just not about the wedding itself. The thought of marrying Wrenley doesn’t make me want to run for the hills. What keeps me up at night is the possibility that one day, this will be over.
Not really, I say.
Brandt grunts beside me as we step over a tangle of roots crossing the trail.
Ahead of us, Remi and Wrenley have disappeared around a bend in the trail, though their voices still carry through the trees. It relaxes me further that they’re loud enough to likely keep any nearby bear moving in the opposite direction.
Never thought I’d see the day, he says.
I look over at him. What day?
The day you willingly got married.
I let out a small laugh. Like it’s bizarre for a man in his mid-thirties to decide to get married.
Brandt is quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the trail ahead of us. I expect some smartass comment back about how he’d rather wrestle whatever bear left those claw marks than get married. But when I look at him, I see a sort of conflicted sadness in his eyes.
You okay, man?
Yeah, he says, seeming to shake himself free from whatever thought had hold of him.
I’ve known Brandt long enough to know that anytime the subject of marriage comes up, he starts to think about his family expectations.
It seems every summer he’s here, it weighs on him a little more.
Usually, I let it go, but after the look I just saw on his face, combined with my sister getting out of his car, I have a lot of questions.
When do you head back to Montana? I ask, deciding an easier question is less likely to send him running for the hills.
November, he answers, adjusting his cowboy hat. Haven’t booked the flight yet, but my dad is already itching for me to be back.
I nod.
Your dad still trying to set you up?
Brandt chuckles. Every year, there’s someone.
Is there someone? I ask.