During the day I try to stay busy. I help Harper in the garden. I read to the little ones when Kayley needs a break. I sit with Caleb while he works on his cabin and listen to him plan his future here. He’s excited about everything. The fresh air. The quiet nights. The people who treat him like family instead of a problem to solve. I smile for him. I laugh when he jokes. But inside I carry the weight of what I did.
Every afternoon, though, there’s one thing I look forward to more than anything else.
Bird watching with Wyatt.
We meet at the same flat rock overlooking the valley almost every day. He brings the binoculars and a thermos of huckleberry tea. I bring a small notebook where I write down the birds we see. We sit side by side on the blanket, shoulders almost touching but never quite. The silence between us used to feel comfortable. Now it feels careful. Fragile.
Today the air is crisp and cool. A light breeze moves through the pines. Wyatt points out a pair of mountain chickadees flitting between branches.
“See the black caps?” he says quietly. “They mate for life. Once they choose each other, that’s it.”
I nod and write it down. My hand shakes a little. “That’s beautiful.”
We watch them for a long time. The birds chase each other through the trees, calling softly. Wyatt doesn’t speak for several minutes. When he does, his voice is low and steady.
“I understand why you left that morning,” he says. “I know you were scared for Caleb. I know you thought you had no choice. I get it, Junie. I really do.”
I swallow hard. Tears prick my eyes again. “But I still hurt you. I gave them your name. I put you in danger. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me either.”
He stays quiet for a while. A northern flicker lands on a nearby trunk and begins drumming. We both watch it.
“I’m not saying it doesn’t still hurt,” he finally replies. “It does. Every time I think about it, it stings. But I also know you were backed into a corner. You were trying to save the only family you had left. That doesn’t make it okay. But it makes it human. I just wish you would have come to me. Talked to me.”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my sleeve. “I still feel like I don’t deserve to be here. With you. With any of you. I’m thinking about leaving. Greta at the Timber Creek diner has a room she’s willing to rent me, and a job at the diner. It’s honest work.”
Wyatt turns his head and looks at me. His gaze is steady and warm. “Don’t you are fucking leave me again.” His voice is thin and threadbare.
Tears stream down my face. “I feel like I don’t belong here. That you’d be happier if I disappeared.”
He grabs my face with both hands. “I love you so goddamn much. If you go down that mountain, I’ll follow.”
I cry harder. “I won’t leave you, Wyatt. Not again. I love you too, and I’m so so sorry that I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make this right.”
“You stay.” His eyes blaze into mine. “You don’t leave.”
I nod. “I can do that.”
We sit together until the sun starts to dip lower. We talk about small things. The birds. The new garden plots. How Caleb wants to learn to fish. Wyatt tells me stories from his time in the military, the lighter ones that make me smile. I tell him about growing up with Caleb and the trouble we used to get into. The conversation flows easier than it has in weeks. Not perfect. Notlike before. But real. Honest. A bridge we’re both willing to walk across, one careful step at a time.
As we walk back to the lodge together, our hands brush once. Neither of us pulls away. It’s a tiny thing. Barely anything at all. But it feels like hope.
That night I still cry in my bed. The guilt hasn’t vanished. The shame still sits heavy in my chest. But for the first time since I left that morning, I also feel something else.
A small, quiet belief that maybe we can rebuild something stronger than what we lost.
A friendship.
A future.
A love that survives mistakes and fear and impossible choices.
I fall asleep thinking about chickadees who choose each other for life. I wonder if people can do the same. I wonder if Wyatt and I still can.
Tomorrow we’ll go bird watching again.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
