She nods solemnly. “He says scared and brave can live in the same body. Just like you taught me.”
The words hit different this morning. Because yeah, I’m definitely both right now. Scared out of my mind about being in these woods. But also brave because I’m choosing to be here anyway.
For her.
For him.
For this weird little family unit we’ve accidentally created.
“Frederick’s extremely smart,” I tell her. “The smartest snail I know.”
Marco plates breakfast and we eat together at the rustic table. The food is perfect because of course it is. He’s a former Michelin star chef. The man could probably make gourmet meals over a campfire using nothing but a stick and sheer willpower.
After breakfast, Marco runs through the final checks. Satphone charged and programmed, check-in text sent to Jag. Bear spray clipped to his belt and another canister clipped to mine. Laminated rules in my jacket pocket. Whistle on all our lanyards.
The shotgun comes out next. Marco unlocks the case with methodical precision, using the code only he knows. Then he checks the chamber. Empty, safety on. Then slings it over his shoulder.
“We’re hunting today?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Demonstrating,” he corrects. “Ben needs to see the process. Respect before fear, remember?”
Right. Because nothing says ‘don’t be afraid of the woods’ like bringing an actual firearm.
When you realize your childhood trauma is about to meet liveammunition.
Cool.
“Ready?” Marco asks.
I nod. Because what else am I going to say? That I’d rather face a hundred Marlowe wannabe mommy bloggers than spend another minute under these trees?
We step outside and the morning air hits me. Cool and damp and smelling like pine and earth and memories I’ve spent two decades trying to forget.
One, two, three. Smell the cocoa. Blow the steam.
The breathing helps. A little.
Ben skips ahead with Frederick. Not too far. Just enough that she feels independent while staying in sight. Marco falls into step beside me.
“You good?” he asks quietly.
“Getting there.” I force a smile. “Just reminding myself that nothing’s going to go wrong.”
He squeezes my hand once. Quick and reassuring. Then lets go because we have a kid to supervise.
The trees close around us. Tall pines that block most of the sky. The path is clear enough but everything looks the same. Just trunks and needles and shadows that could hide anything.
Stop it.
You’re fine.
Everything’s fine.
I think about last night. About Marco’s hands on my skin. His mouth everywhere. The way he made me forget every single fear I’ve ever had.
If I can survive that level of vulnerability, I can survive a walk in the woods.
Right?
