"You're important, Amelia. To us. To the kids. And we protect what's important to us."
The words settle into my chest, warm and foreign and terrifying. I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly it physically hurts. But Vincent said things like that too, in the beginning. Said I was important, that he'd never hurt me, that he'd keep me safe. And then he spent two years systematically destroying every piece of me he could reach.
But Wyatt isn't Vincent. I know that logically, rationally. Wyatt, who reads to the kids every night and makes sure I eat breakfast and catches me when I fall. Wyatt, who's holding me now like I'm something precious instead of something broken.
"Okay," I whisper, because I don't know what else to say.
Silas appears through the trees, having left the kids with what I assume is some kind of distraction. He crouches down in front of me, his dark eyes soft with concern.
"How are you doing?" he asks gently.
"I'm okay," I manage, though my voice is still shaky. "I'm sorry. I should have kept them closer to the trail."
"The kids are fine," Silas says firmly, echoing Wyatt's words. "They had a great adventure. But I don't want you worrying about getting lost again."
He pulls out his phone, tapping at the screen for a moment before handing it to me. "Put your number in and then go to your phone's settings. I'm going to share my location with you, and you're going to share yours with me. That way, if we ever get separated again, we can find each other."
I blink at him, confused. "You want to track me?"
"I want to make sure you're never lost again," he corrects gently. "So we can always find you. So you're never alone."
The gesture is so thoughtful, so protective without being controlling, that fresh tears spring to my eyes. Vincent always tracked me, but it was about control, about making sure I couldn't escape, about catching me in lies he'd invented in his head. This is different. This is about safety. About making sure I know I'm not alone.
I take his phone with trembling fingers and add my number, then fumble with my own phone to pull up the settings and share my location with him. When I hand his phone back, he smiles at me, warm and reassuring.
"There," he says softly. "Now I'll always be able to find you. And you'll always be able to find me."
"So we never lose you," Wyatt adds, his arm still around my shoulders.
The words feel like a promise. Like a vow. Like something I'm almost brave enough to believe in.
We make our way back to where the kids are waiting, Isaac showing off a rock he found while Silas was gone. The main trail is maybe fifty feet away, close enough that I can see how we got turned around, how the trees had hidden the path while we were focused on flowers and leaves.
The walk back to the car is slower than the walk out had been. My legs feel shaky, unreliable, and I'm grateful when Wyatt stays close beside me, ready to catch me if I stumble. Silas carries Isaac on his shoulders, the little boy chattering happily about all the adventures they're going to have next time, completely oblivious to the crisis that almost happened.
Riley walks next to me, her hand finding mine. She doesn't say anything about my red eyes or the tear tracks on my cheeks, just holds my hand and tells me about all the different flowers she wants to find next time we go exploring.
When we reach the parking lot, my legs finally give out. One second I'm walking, the next I'm stumbling, my knees buckling beneath me. Wyatt catches me before I hit the ground, his arm around my waist keeping me upright.
"I've got you," he murmurs, and then he's lifting me, one arm under my knees and the other around my back, carrying me the last few feet to the car like I weigh nothing at all.
I should protest. Should insist I can walk. Should be embarrassed that he's carrying me like a child while his children watch. But I'm so tired, wrung out from the panic attack and the adrenaline crash, that I just let my head rest against his chest and let him take care of me.
He settles me in the passenger seat, making sure I'm buckled in before closing the door gently. Through the window, I watch him and Silas get the kids situated in their car seats, both men moving with practiced efficiency. They're so good with Riley and Isaac, so patient and loving, and the kids are so clearly secure in their fathers' love.
I want that. The realization hits me with startling clarity. I want to be part of this family. I want Saturday morning cartoons and flower-hunting adventures and someone to catch me when I fall. I want to believe that I'm important, that I'm not alone, that I'll never be abandoned again.
I want to be brave enough to reach for it.
Silas climbs into the driver's seat, glancing over at me with concern. "You okay?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. He studies me for a moment longer before starting the engine, pulling out of the parking lot carefully. Wyatt keeps up a steady stream of conversation with the kids from the back seat, asking them questions about their favorite parts of the hike, making them laugh with silly voices.
I close my eyes and let the sound of their voices wash over me, let myself feel safe in this car with these people. Let myself, just for a moment, believe that maybe I'm not alone anymore.
Amelia
The days blend together in the best possible way, each one building on the last until I can barely remember what it felt like to wake up every morning braced for disaster. It's been almost two weeks since the hiking incident, two weeks of settling deeper into the rhythm of this house, this family, until the edges of my life have started to blur with theirs in ways that both terrify and comfort me.
