"Yes, I do."
"But the trail?—"
"Sarah is up there because of me." I met his eyes, and I saw him flinch at whatever he found in mine. "She ran away because I made her believe I didn't love her anymore. So yes, Cole. I do have to do this."
A ranger approached, a young woman with a serious face and a flashlight already in hand. "You know the trail?"
"Like my own heartbeat," Cole said grimly.
"Then let's move. We're losing light."
The first step onto the trail was the hardest thing I'd ever done.
The second step was harder.
The path rose immediately, switchbacking through dense pine forest. The air was cold, sharp with the scent of evergreen and damp earth. My breath came in short bursts, not from exertion yet, but from the creeping, familiar dread.
"Stay with me," Cole said quietly, falling into step beside me. "Watch this root. Step here."
I focused on his voice, on the mechanics. Left foot. Right foot. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't think about the shadows. Don't think about Lily.
"Sarah!" Cole's voice rang out, echoing through the silent trees. "SARAH!"
Nothing. Just the whisper of wind in the branches.
"How far is the creek clearing you think she went to?" the ranger asked.
"About two miles. The overlook is another quarter mile past that, up a steeper game trail."
Two miles. Plus another quarter. In gathering darkness. On a mountain that wanted me dead.
Not about you,I reminded myself savagely.This is not about you and your trauma. A six-year-old is out here alone because you were too scared to love her properly.
Congratulations, Emma. Your fear almost killed a child. New personal low. Really impressive.
We climbed for twenty minutes. The trail narrowed, hugging the hillside, a steep drop-off opening to our left. I made the mistake of looking down. The ravine yawned below, shadowed and bottomless, and suddenly I wasn't on this trail anymore.
I was standing on a different path, a year ago, listening to a ranger explain that my sister had fallen. That they'd found her at the bottom of a ravine just like this one. That she'd been alonebecause I hadn't gone with her, because I'd said no, because I'd let her walk into the wilderness by herself?—
"Emma."
Cole's voice, cutting through the static.
"Emma, look at me. Not down. Look at me."
I couldn't move. My feet were frozen to the narrow path, my vision tunneling, my lungs refusing to work.
His hand found mine—large, warm, calloused, real. He squeezed hard enough to hurt.
"Breathe," he commanded. "In. Out. You're here. You're safe. Sarah needs you."
Sarah needs you.
Three words.
I dragged my eyes up from the void and found his face. Those blue eyes, full of fear but also of fierce, unwavering focus. On me. On getting to Sarah.
"She needs you," he repeated. "And you can do this. You are doing this."
