“Did you ever think that maybe they realized you would be better off here where you could learn? That maybe they wanted you to have the chance they knew they couldn’t give you?”
Kay shook her head, denying the words.
“Ah, Kayleigh.” Elizabeth ran a soft hand down her hair. “I’m sorry,Cariad. I know it still hurts.”
It did. But it wasn’t Elizabeth’s fault—her gran actuallyhadprotected her.
Kay let out a slow breath and forced her shoulders down. Forced herself to let it go and concentrate on her grandmother.
She took Elizabeth’s hand in hers and gave it a small squeeze, trying to smile. “How about I call my parents at the same time as you tell David about your dream.”
Elizabeth gave her a cool look, not allowing the diversion. “I’ll think about it, Kayleigh, but you have to see it’s a completely different situation. Your parents love you.”
Kay grunted but didn’t reply. What was there to say that they hadn’t said before?
“Kayleigh,Cariad,” Elizabeth said quietly, looking exhausted, “You’ll have to accept that people make mistakes sometimes, or you’ll never get close to anyone.”
She bristled, the words cutting a little too near to the truth. “James and Zach—”
“James and Zach are like your brothers,” Elizabeth interrupted. “What will you do when they move on and make families of their own? I can’t even remember the last time you had a boyfriend.”
Kay groaned. That was unnecessarily… accurate.
But Elizabeth wasn’t done. “You want to be accepted as you are? That means accepting others as they are—mistakes and all. Take a chance, Kay; it’ll be worth it.”
“Okay. I get it. Really.” She was going to call them. Very soon. Maybe. And start working on genuinely forgiving them too. And take more chances.
Elizabeth stood and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. A gentle peace offering. “I’m going back to bed. Maybe we can go for a swim in the morning.”
Kay suppressed a shudder at the thought of how cold the Welsh mountain lakes would be, even now in late spring, and gave her gran a quick smile. “Stop dreaming, okay? I came here for a rest, not to have your creepy visions leaking out.”
ChapterTwo
Ethan rolledover to silence his buzzing alarm and switch on a light. Waking before the sun came up for thousands of early paramedic shifts meant he generally didn’t even need the alarm, but after a night like that, filled with dark, unsettling dreams, he felt as if he’d hardly slept at all.
He blinked in the sudden brightness and stretched. It was a luxury that he still enjoyed. Going to bed when he wanted to. Having the entire bed to himself. Getting up when he wanted to. Letting the alarm blare. Turning on lights. Rolling out of bed to do his morning pushups. Not having to worry about anyone except himself.
He ate a big breakfast, threw the gear he’d packed the night before into his car, and hit the road. It was a long drive from his flat in London out west to Cheddar Gorge, and he wanted to be there early.
He’d felt out of sorts all week. He’d been sleeping badly—disturbed by the dark dreams he sometimes had, all writhing shadows and amorphous battles—his whole body on constant alert. Too much stress and too much overtime playing havoc with his adrenals and sending his dream imagination wild.
Looking forward to this trip had kept him going. He would climb all day, come back down in time to stay the night in a nearby rental cottage, and drive home the following day, ready for his next shift. And he wouldn’t have to think of another person that entire time.
The sun was bright and the air was brisk and cool when he reached the gorge. Streaky gray clouds sailed across the sky, but it was dry and clear, and the forecast was good. He’d chosen a sports route, where bolts had already been left in place, on the north side of the gorge with good light and fantastic views, perfect for climbing solo.
He walked up a small path through the rocks and tumbled vegetation, enjoying the scent of thyme and wild basil on the lower slopes, made his way along the base of the crag, and finally reached the start of his climb.
From the first moment his hand touched the rock, he was in the zone. His whole body and mind focused on finding his next handhold, next reach, next toe hook. The rest of the world fell away. All that existed was the rock and his body. Each move planned and executed with total concentration as he pushed himself, pushed each muscle to its brink, and made his way slowly upward.
When he needed a break, he hung from the rocks, supported by his ropes, and watched the gorge, the other climbers, occasional goats clambering up the rocky slopes, tiny in the distance. Even a flash of peregrine falcons far above. Alone, with nothing but the rock face and his ropes, the world made sense.
He had to do everything—rely completely on himself—and that was how he liked it. It was how he’d climbed for the last three years. Hell, it was how he’d lived for the last three years.
The ache in his muscles, the pain where he had scraped the skin off his hands, the strain of holding his weight on his fingers, was like a meditation. Focusing his mind on here and now. No other distractions, none of life’s worries or grief.
And in those moments, it was as if there was something tangible in the movement of the world around him. As if he could almost reach out and touch the living souls of the hunting birds above him, cold and sharp. Or, as if, with a little thought, he could send a part of himself out into the world to embrace the solid, steadfast nature of the rock wall in front of him, the subtle energies of the other climbers working their way up a distant route.
Ethan grinned, swinging between the earth and sky. Enjoying the endorphins flooding his body. The high of nature’s opiates. The euphoria of testing himself, pushing through the pain and danger, and surviving.
