“What exactly do you need from us?” Rhett asked.
“Materials transport mainly. It’s not exactly accessible by truck. And muscle power—there’s a lot to do and not much time. I want it ready by sunset day after tomorrow.”
“Two days?” Clint whistled. “That’s ambitious.”
“I’ve got the design worked out. Been sketching it for months.” I pulled out my phone, showing them the plans I’d refined during sleepless nights overseas. “Simple but meaningful. Mountain laurel for the business. Her favorite natives. A stone bench facing west.” I had a few extra changes to make tonight, but I could manage it.
“You’re really serious about her,” Gabe observed.
“Always have been.” I met each of their eyes. “So are you in?”
“Of course we’re in,” Rhett said. “What time do you need us?”
“Dawn. And...” I hesitated. “Someone needs to make sure she shows up there at sunset when we’re done without actually telling her why.”
“Leave that to me,” Clint said. “I’ll get Austen to handle it. Tate won’t suspect anything from her.”
Relief loosened the knot in my chest. This had to work. Had to show her that some risks were worth taking.
Eighteen
Tate
“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” I grumbled.
“Because you’ve been going stir crazy cooped up at Pepper’s and moving always helps you think,” Austen insisted. “Besides, you know you have to get back to your real life and face Kellan. This hike is a good opportunity to figure out what you want to say.”
“What’s the appropriate apology for ‘I’m sorry I ruined everything?’” Because I was pretty sure that was exactly what I’d managed to do. When I blew up my life, I did it in grand style. Relationship, job, and home all in one fell swoop. Not that I’d been kicked out of my house, but I couldn’t make myself go back to it while Kellan was sure to be there.
He hadn’t messaged me since I sent a lone text to let him know I wasn’t dead in a ditch. I hadn’t been to work—unheard of. I had no idea what balls I’d even dropped this week, which was entirely unlike me.
“You didn’t ruin everything,” Austen’s voice broke through my ruminating. “You just panicked. Honestly, given the whole situation, I’m surprised you lasted this long. But Kellan adores you. He wouldn’t have crossed the line with you if he didn’t. And that means y’all can get through this.”
I wasn’t so sure.
Austen let me be for the next chunk of the hike, and she wasn’t wrong. With every step deeper into the woods, I could feel the anxiety that had been my constant companion start to calm. This was part of why I loved my job. Because I got to be outside in nature all the time. Maybe not this kind of nature, but still.
When the sun slipped behind the treeline, I realized it was getting late. “We should turn back. We’re gonna lose the light.”
Austen took a sip from her water bottle. “I thought we could take in the sunset at the overlook. The trail down is clearly marked. We’ll be fine.”
I had no interest in revisiting one of the places that belonged to me and Kellan, but I could tell my friend really wanted to go. Given all the trouble I’d been to all of them this week, I held my tongue and followed.
Something was different about the trail. After so many years maintaining the local hiking paths through our business, I noticed even subtle changes. But these weren’t subtle.
My steps slowed as I took in the young mountain laurels planted with expert precision on either side of the path. They were still small, but positioned perfectly to grow into a natural arch over the years. Someone had put serious thought into this.
“Austen, what?—”
“Keep going.” She nudged me forward.
The closer we got to the overlook, the more changes I spotted. New beds of native wildflowers lined the widening path—black-eyed Susans, purple coneflowers, wild columbine. All my favorites.
My heart hammered against my ribs as we rounded the last bend. The formerly sparse overlook had been transformed. More flower beds created a natural border around the edge, drawing the eye toward a stone bench I’d never seen before. It faced west over the valley, perfectly positioned to watch the sun set over Huckleberry Creek far below.
The scent of fresh dirt and new growth filled my nose. This work was recent—very recent. And I knew exactly whose handiwork this was. No one else would know to pick these specific plants, to arrange them exactly this way.
“Oh, my God.” My voice came out barely above a whisper as I took in every detail. The precision of the stonework, the careful placement of each plant. This wasn’t just landscaping. This was art. This was...
