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“You can’t go. You understand that, don’t you? Even if I went with you, I could only keep you safe in that moment. We would be creating a trail that leads your attacker right back to the ranch. We don’t know who we’re dealing with. We don’t know how he finds you. I don’t want you to feel trapped here, but it’s not safe for you to leave. Not yet.”

“I know,” I said softly. I stared hard at the trees.

His hand moved toward me like he wanted to offer comfort, but instead he dropped it to the armrest without making contact. “You’re disappointed.”

Disappointed? Only in myself. Mostly, I felt relieved. I rubbed my thumb along the rim of my mug. “People have always told me how brave I am for doing what I do. Dangerous places, dangerous animals, and I’m a woman, so that adds a whole terrifying element to it. But now I have this great opportunity to do something that really matters, and it’s the whole reason I do what I do, and you’re telling me I can’t do it, and all I can think is thank god.” I gave a brittle laugh. “It turns out I’m a coward.”

Seb’s hand flexed. He drummed his fingers on the armrest a moment and then stopped. “It’s not cowardice to want to live, Lila. That’s all this is: your ferocious will to stay alive keeping you from doing something dumb that will end in your death. Let someone else take this one. You can take the next hundred—because let’s face it, the greedy bastards aren’t going to get less greedy anytime soon. Other opportunities will come your way.”

Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them back. “Then why does it feel so bad?”

He chuckled gently. “Because you’re used to being the one. You’re the one who saves the day and comes through. It’s ego. Even the best of us have it.”

I grinned. “So what you’re saying is I’m awesome. That’s a pretty big compliment coming from an ex-husband.”

The rocking chair creaked as he pushed off with his feet, tipping it back until it leaned against the cabin wall. He kicked one leg up on the porch railing and tugged the brim of his ball cap lower on his face. “You’re an upper echelon human being, Lila. Wouldn’t want to be on this floating rock without you.”

Arrow to the heart. Right, that’s why you left. I rolled my eyes like I didn’t care. “Okay, you don’t need to be mean about it. Serves me right, I guess, for fishing for a compliment.”

With his ball cap pulled low, all I could see of his expression was the slight twist of his beautiful mouth. His Adam’s apple bobbed on a hard swallow. When he didn’t say anything, I went back to staring at the trees and drinking my tea.

“Autumn really is the best season,” I said wistfully. This was the first autumn in over a decade that I didn’t have something exciting lined up. Even those early years of scraping my pennies together, sleeping in Relly at cheap campsites or Walmart parking lots, and doing free grunt work for established photographers to learn the craft and business, I was doing something.

Now? I was doing literally nothing.

“It’s the light,” I went on. “That’s what makes autumn so amazing. Light is the second most important factor in photography, so that’s why I work non-stop from September through November.”

Seb looked like he was dozing, but I knew he was listening, so I kept talking.

“In autumn, the sun sits lower in the sky, which means its rays have to travel through more of the atmosphere. The rays scatter the blue light, so we see more reds and oranges. That’s why everything is a little more golden in autumn. Plus, the air is drier, which makes the colors even more vibrant. Humidity dulls everything.”

Seb slowly lowered the rocking chair back to its upright position. He flicked up the brim of his hat and squinted at the expansive view. Trees and mountains and animals right off the front porch, no travel required, not a stabby psychopath in sight. Excellent lack of humidity.

I expected him to point out that nothing was stopping me from picking up my camera right now, but instead, he asked, “What’s the first?”

I blinked. “What?”

“You said light was the second most important factor in photography. What’s the first?”

“Perspective. Human perspective. A dozen photographers can be in the same exact spot, staring at the same exact landscape, and you’ll still get a dozen different photographs. And each one of those photographs is going to change your perspective, just from looking at it. You’ll see the world through someone else’s eyes. How amazing is that?” Tea sloshed over the rim of my mug and splashed on my arm as I gestured. I lifted my arm to my mouth and licked it off. “That’s what the Yellowstone photography workshop was about. Taking something as vast as a mountain range and making it intimate and personal.”

Seb was leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees, his face half turned to me. He rubbed his thumb across his lower lip. There was something about the intensity of his stare that made me blush.

“What?” I asked. “Did I splash you with my tea?”

He startled like he was coming out of a trance. “No?” He looked down at himself to verify. “No,” he said, with more conviction. He pushed up from the rocking chair, paced a few steps, then leaned his back against the porch railing and crossed his arms, facing me.

“But I was thinking.”

I tilted my head. “Okay.”

“You need a mission.” He cocked his head. “Emma has been running the ranch's social media accounts. It brings us a little bit of attention and donations, which is great. I bet she’d love for you to help while you’re here. You could update the photos on our website, too. It’s not saving wilderness from mining companies, but the donations we get allow veterans and first responders to stay for weeks and months at no cost to them. We save lives here, and you can help us do that. What do you think?”

I blinked.

I think no one has ever seen me like you do.

But what I said was, “I think…yes. That would be great. I’d love to help.”