I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering uselessly. Every instinct screamed to decline. Make an excuse. Fake an illness. The mountain had taken my sister. The mountain was not my friend.
But Sarah wanted to show me her world. Cole was offering a bridge, with the patience of someone who understood the terrain was emotional as much as physical. And I was so tired. Exhausted from letting fear be the loudest voice in every room.
My thumbs moved before my brain could intervene.
Emma
I’d like that.
I found my old hiking boots in the back of my closet, buried under boxes I'd deliberately never unpacked. Lacing them up felt less like betrayal than I'd expected. It felt like a quiet, determined pact with myself.I will try. I will look at it. I will not let Lily's death be the only story I tell about mountains.
When Cole's truck rumbled up my drive, Sarah was already bouncing in the backseat.
"Ms. Reed! The creek is so high from all the rain! Uncle C said we might see newts!"
"Newts?" I climbed in, forcing brightness into my voice. "I've never seen a newt."
"They're like tiny dragons," Sarah explained seriously. "But wet."
Cole glanced at me as I buckled my seatbelt. His eyes dropped to my hiking boots, then back to my face. He didn't offer empty reassurance or cheerful platitudes. He just gave a slow, solid nod, acknowledging the courage and the act of showing up prepared.
"We'll take it slow," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You set the pace. We turn back whenever you want. No questions asked."
"Thank you," I managed. My hands were trembling slightly. I tucked them under my thighs.
The trailhead was different from what I'd imagined; it was a gentle slope leading into a mossy, damp canyon where the sound of rushing water grew louder with every step. The air was cool and sweet, scented with wet earth.
"This way!" Sarah bounded ahead, then stopped to wait for us. "Come on, Ms. Reed! The good part is up here!"
For the first fifteen minutes, it was okay. More than okay. Ferns curled up from the forest floor. Sunlight came through the trees in patches, warm on my face. A banana slug crossed our path, and Sarah stopped to introduce me.
"This is Gerald," she announced. "I named him."
"You've met this specific slug before?"
"No, but he looks like a Gerald."
Cole walked beside me, his presence a steadying force. He pointed to a cluster of delicate white flowers growing near a fallen log.
"Trillium," he said. "They take seven years to bloom from seed."
"Seven years?" I crouched to look closer. "That's incredibly patient."
"Most good things are."
I focused on his voice, on the facts, on the solid realness of the path beneath my boots. This was just a walk in the woods. A normal thing people did. I could do this. I was doing it.
The trail began to climb more steadily, rising away from the creek. The trees thinned slightly. The path, still wide, became rockier underfoot.
My breathing hitched. Not from exertion, but from something else. A creeping, familiar dread. The air felt thinner, even though it wasn't. The openness beyond the trees pressed against me like a physical weight.
"Emma?" Cole's voice was careful. "You okay?"
"Fine," I lied. "Just catching my breath."
I kept my eyes on Sarah's pink jacket ahead, on Cole's broad shoulders beside me. But my senses were betraying me. The smell of damp granite. The clean, cold bite of altitude. The sound of my boot scuffing on loose rock.
It was all a key turning in a lock I'd tried to seal forever.
