"You already said sorry on the mountain."
"I know. But I want to say it again, when you're not scared and cold and tired." I reached out, gently brushing her tangledhair back from her face. "I hurt you. I made you think I didn't love you anymore. That was wrong. That was my fear, not the truth."
Sarah studied my face for a long moment. Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my neck, holding on tight.
"I missed you so much," she whispered.
"I missed you too, baby. More than you'll ever know."
Cole joined us, his large arms encircling us both. The three of us stood there in the cold and the dark, holding onto each other, the stars blazing overhead.
"We should go home," Cole said eventually. "Someone needs sleep."
"I'm not tired," Sarah mumbled against my shoulder, already half-asleep again.
"Sure you're not."
We loaded back into the truck, Sarah in the back, me in the front, the heater blasting against the cold. As Cole pulled back onto the road, Sarah's hand reached forward between the seats, finding mine.
I held on.
The mountain rose dark and immense in the rearview mirror. The same mountain that had haunted my nightmares. The same wilderness that had taken my sister.
But now, driving away from it with Cole's hand on my knee and Sarah's fingers in mine, it didn't look like a monster anymore. It looked like what it was: earth and rock and pine, dangerous and beautiful, full of risk and reward.
Just like love.
The mountain didn't take Lily. Life did, in its random cruelty. But I was still here. Still capable of joy. Still surrounded by people who loved me despite my best efforts to push them away.
And I was done letting fear steal that.
Tomorrow, I would call my father. I would start learning to see the wilderness through Cole's eyes. I would be Sarah's family, officially, permanently, with all the terror and joy that entailed.
But tonight, I just held onto Sarah's hand and watched the stars through the windshield and let myself feel something I hadn't felt in fourteen months.
Hope.
Real, terrifying, beautiful hope.
It turned out that was the bravest thing of all.
19.Emma
Three months ago, I would have vomited at the sight of this trailhead. Now I was tightening my backpack straps and actually looking forward to the climb. Personal growth is weird.
The autumn air was crisp as a bitten apple, carrying the scent of decaying leaves and distant woodsmoke. The aspens had turned, painting the slopes in brilliant, shimmering gold. My backpack felt different now. It used to represent a preparation for disaster, a collection of "just in case" items for a world I expected to turn treacherous. Now it was just practical: water, snacks, a first-aid kit, an extra layer.
"Ready?" Cole asked, holding out his hand.
I slipped mine into his, the calluses on his palm familiar and comforting. "Ready."
"You said that without hyperventilating," he observed. "Progress."
"I contain multitudes."
Sarah bounced and hopped along the trail, her small pack bouncing with her. "Come on, Emma! I want to show you where we saw a deer last time! Its ears were this big!" She spread her hands comically wide.
"That sounds like a very large deer."
