"Give me five minutes to change." Wyatt disappears back into the house before Silas can respond.
It ends up being more like ten minutes before Wyatt reappears, now in jeans and a t-shirt that clings to his chest in a way that makes me have to actively look away. He climbs into the back seat next to Isaac, who immediately starts chattering about the waterfall and the talking dog detectives and how Miss Amelia makes the best grilled cheese in the entire world.
Hunter is apparently at his office, something about meeting with a client about a new construction project. Part of me is relieved he's not here, one less Alpha to navigate, one less pair of eyes watching my every move. But another part of me, a part I'm not quite ready to examine too closely, feels his absence like a missing piece.
The drive to the trailhead takes about thirty minutes, winding through town and then up into the hills where the houses give way to dense forest. The kids keep up a steady stream of chatter the entire way, telling Wyatt about their morning and the cartoon dogs and the game they made up where they tried to count all the dust particles in the sunbeams streaming through the windows.
When we pull into the parking lot, there are only a few other cars scattered around. It's a perfect day for hiking, warm but not too hot, with a gentle breeze that rustles through the trees. The air smells like pine and earth and growing things, so different from the recycled air of the house or the exhaust-choked streets near Dylan's place.
Silas helps the kids out of their car seats while Wyatt grabs a small backpack from the trunk, presumably filled with water bottles and snacks. I stand by the car for a moment, tipping my face up to the sun and closing my eyes, letting the warmth sink into my skin.
"You ready?" Wyatt's voice is soft, close enough that I can smell his citrus scent mixing with the clean sweat smell from his earlier run.
I open my eyes to find him watching me with an expression I can't quite read. There's warmth there, and something that might be concern, but also something else. Something that makes my stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with anxiety.
"Ready," I confirm, forcing my voice to stay steady.
The trailhead is clearly marked, a wide dirt path that disappears into the trees. Riley grabs my hand almost immediately, tugging me forward with the kind of enthusiasm only a six-year-old on an adventure can muster. Isaac takes Silas' hand, but keeps looking back at me every few steps like he needs to make sure I'm still there.
The trail is beautiful in the way that nature always is when you're not running for your life or being left behind as punishment. Sunlight filters through the canopy overhead, creating shifting patterns of light and shadow on the ground. Birds call to each other in the branches, and somewhere in the distance, I can hear running water that must be the stream that feeds the waterfall.
We walk for maybe fifteen minutes, the kids pointing out interesting rocks and unusual trees and asking approximately eight million questions about everything we pass. Wyatt answers most of them with impressive patience, only occasionally deferring to Silas when the question ventures into territory he's not sure about.
"Why are some trees taller than other trees?" Isaac wants to know.
"Because they're older," Wyatt explains. "Trees keep growing their whole lives, so the really tall ones have been here for a very long time."
"How long?"
"Some of them might be a hundred years old or more."
Isaac's eyes go wide. "That's older than you!"
"Thanks, buddy," Wyatt says dryly, but he's smiling. "Way to make me feel ancient."
Riley tugs on my hand, pulling me slightly off the path to look at a cluster of bright purple wildflowers growing near the base of a tree. "Look how pretty! Can we pick some?"
I crouch down beside her, examining the flowers. They're small and delicate, with five petals each that seem to glow in the dappled sunlight. "I think we should leave them here so other people can enjoy them too. But we can take a picture if you want."
I pull out my phone, angling it to capture the flowers with Riley's delighted face beside them. She poses dramatically, and I snap several photos before showing them to her. She studies each one seriously before nodding her approval.
"Can we go look for more?" she asks. "I want to see how many different kinds we can find."
I glance back at the trail where Silas and Wyatt have stopped to wait for us, Isaac now on Wyatt's shoulders pointing at something in the trees. The main path is still visible from here, maybe fifteen feet away through the trees. It seems safe enough.
"Sure," I agree. "But we stay where we can see the trail, okay? And we don't go far."
Riley nods enthusiastically and starts pushing deeper into the trees, scanning the ground for more flowers. I follow her, keeping one eye on the trail, making sure I can still see the bright colors of Wyatt's shirt through the gaps in the trees.
We find more flowers—little white ones with yellow centers, some pink ones that grow in clusters, a few red ones that Riley declares are her favorite. I take pictures of each one, letting Riley arrange them in her viewfinder the way she wants. Isaac joins us after a few minutes, having apparently gotten bored with whatever he was looking at before, and soon both kids are on a mission to find the most interesting flowers in the forest.
The minutes slip by easily, the three of us absorbed in our flower hunt. The kids are laughing and chattering, competing to see who can spot the next flower first. Isaac finds a yellow one that's almost as big as his hand, and Riley discovers a tiny blue one hiding under a fallen log. I'm taking a picture of both kids holding their discoveries when I realize I haven't heard Wyatt or Silas in a while.
I look up, expecting to see the trail through the trees like before, but the forest has somehow shifted around us. Or maybe we've shifted, wandered farther than I realized while I was focused on the kids and the camera. The trees all look the same suddenly—tall trunks and green leaves and dappled sunlight that could be anywhere.
My chest tightens. "Okay guys, I think it's time to head back to the trail."
"But we didn't find any orange ones yet," Riley protests. "Isaac said he saw an orange one over this way."
