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“You’re in a good mood,” I said after giving her a long kiss.

I thought she might feel a lot more conflicted about the trip. Because of the attack and the killing, because of her murdered family, because of her rough childhood.

In fact, I’d been gearing up for a complicated trip full of big emotions—both good and bad.

So her excited, upbeat, almost antsy mood didn’t seem to mesh. But the plane was fueled up and staffed, so it was time to go.

It wasn’t until we were told over the intercom that we were going to begin the descent that I knew something was wrong.

A flight to Wyoming took six hours, on average, without stops.

We’d barely been in the air for three hours.

“Did you schedule a stop?” I asked, confused.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

“What are you up to?”

The only answer I got to that was a smile.

We landed and climbed down the stairs, and I knew immediately we were nowhere near Wyoming. Or even the Midwest. No, we were in the Northeast somewhere.

“Come on, Daddy,” Denali demanded.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“It’s a secret.”

“You brought our daughter into your lies?” I teased Runa.

“Only because it’s a good one.”

We made our way to the rental car, sticking the suitcases we’d packed in… and some extras that must have been put on the plane before I arrived.

I wanted to press for more information, but Runa clearly had something up her sleeve. And I didn’t want to ruin her fun.

She made me ride passenger as she discreetly hid her phone so I couldn’t look at the navigation.

I knew about twenty minutes into the drive that we were in New York State. But I think I was imagining we were heading into the town where we’d first met, but we turned off before then, driving into the woods, where the trees closed in tighter and tighter, nearly blotting out the sun at one point.

“Babe, there’s no more road.”

“Nope. We’re hoofing it now.”

I probably should have put it together then.

But I just grabbed several of the bags and followed Runa down a path that seemed freshly cleared. The bent trees and cut bushes were all still green.

Had she hired someone to make a path through the woods for us? If so, why?

It was when I heard the creek that something started to click. It was a hair-on-the-back-of-my-neck thing at first. Then a flip in my stomach.

But before I could piece it together, the path yawned into a clearing.

And there it was.

The cabin my father had owned.