Page 63 of Believe In Us

“He loves you very much,” Maggie said, her gaze earnest.

“You think?”

“Well, he did announce it in front of almost the whole family,” Elsa pointed out.

A giggle slipped out. “True, he did.”

“My Lincoln feels things very deeply, and it’s been hard for him since Bree died,” Maggie offered.

“I’m sure it’s been hard for all of you.” My heart pinched a little whenever I thought about it. Since I’d lost my mother, I understood grief, at least my experience with it.

“Of course it has, but he feels responsible. I’ve never known quite how to help him understand that he’s not at all,” Maggie explained.

“Oh,” I said softly.

Just then Elsa’s phone vibrated, and the main resort phone rang. They still had a landline here, which had surprised me a little when I first arrived, but Maggie had pointed out that cell reception was not fantastic out here, so it was helpful to have it.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Lincoln

Should’ve stayed in bed

Sweaty all over with my heart clanging in my chest, I slipped quietly out of the bedroom into the main part of Chloe’s suite, all but running into the hallway. The hallway was mostly dark, except for the low lights that stayed on all the time. I leaned against the wall, taking several deep breaths. This had been one of the worst nightmares I’d ever had.

Christmas was four days away and the pace of work had been relentless. My mind spun back to my second appointment with Delaney, only four days after the first, just because that was the only opening she had. I knew I could get through this, but fuck my life. Something about Christmas was getting to me, probably because it was my first Christmas home since it all happened. I felt like I was running into an obstacle course of triggers, like in a video game where giant swords that could cut in all directions sprung out of the ground.

The air out here was cooler, but my internal state was a staticky churn. I made my way on quiet footsteps down to the gear room. I snagged a down jacket, and a pair of windbreaker pants and boots, mentally deciding I would be warm enough. Maybe not ideal, but I was near desperate to get outside. The panic was like a drum pounding too fast and hard in my body, chasing me. I needed the grounding sensation of the fresh air.

As soon as I took in a breath and the cold struck my cheeks, I started to feel better. It was close to a full moon, but not quite. In the darkness with the moon as my only illumination, the snow was bright as I began to walk. I stopped at one point, leaning my head back, sucking in deep lungfuls of the icy winter Alaskan air. I heard a rustling in the trees and watched as a raven took flight, calling in the darkness, flying in front of me maybe only ten feet away.

“Hey there,” I murmured, as I listed to the sound of its wings beating against the air.

I knew where I wanted to go. There was a little viewing point over a half a mile away, not too far, and I knew the path there by heart. It was above Heartfire Falls, where you could look out over the valley and see the glacial lake that fed the falls in the distance.

This was a fairly well-worn trail. We took it all the time with guests and skied it too, so the snow was packed down. Something about that soft crunch under my feet in the crisp, otherwise quiet air soothed me. It smelled like it was going to snow again soon, even though the sky was still mostly clear. For those who hadn’t lived somewhere snowy, it was always interesting to try to explain how you could smell when snow was coming. There was a crisp, fresh scent to the air, weighted with a hint of moisture to come. I glanced up toward the sky, clocking the clouds off to one side. Snow wasn’t a sure thing when you smelled it, but those clouds were likely holding snow.

As I walked, I saw a pair of moose standing under the trees nearby, probably their version of sleeping on their feet. If they cared about my presence, it wasn’t apparent. That internal churning sense of panic tangled up with dread and fear finally started to loosen. I felt like I could breathe, like I didn’t need to run for my life.

I paused when I heard an owl call in the darkness. The outdoors had always been a place of peace and grounding for me. Being outside at night was almost magical, so quiet and yet not. The rustle of the wind in the evergreens. The occasional call of an owl. The distant call of a raven. So much of it was just peace, and it brought me back to myself, reminded me that I was okay, that I was safe.

A short while later, I arrived at the viewing point. I stood there taking several slow breaths, absorbing the view I knew so well. The moon illuminated the mountain ridge and cast the valley below in a shimmery glow. In the distance, I could see the glacial lake glinting under that same pearly light, winding into a stream hidden in the shadowed valley. That stream meandered to Heartfire Falls, so named for the way the setting sun set them aglow like fire when the light was just right.

Finally feeling settled, I turned to walk back. Maybe because I was relaxed, maybe because my brain and my body were convinced I knew this trail by heart, which I did, except there was an icy patch. I slipped and tumbled on the way down. “Fuck!” I exclaimed.

The next few moments were fuzzy because I tumbled further than I expected, though I knew it wasn’t too far. The snow was deep and fucking cold, and I had bounced against a few boulders through the snowpack. Boulders were stubborn little assholes, always there waiting under the snow to remind you that you that you can never be too confident in the Alaskan wild.

Sitting in the snow, I let out a groan, taking stock and trying to assess how bad off I was. I was pretty confident I didn’t break anything, except my hip was throbbing like hell from its impact with the boulder. To make matters worse, I was just wearing those thin windbreaker pants. Waterproof but not warm, not fuzzy, and it was the kind of cold that could mean hypothermia in not too much time.

I fumbled in my pockets. Out of pure habit, I’d grabbed my cell phone on the way out. Fishing it out, I glanced at the screen. Zero bars.

“Fuck!” I cursed into the darkness, only to hear an owl answer me with a low call.

It took a few minutes to think this through and calculate the best way back up to the trail. Knowing how deep the snow was, going straight up the way I’d fallen was not the smart move. I needed to make my way through more carefully and on more level ground. With a sigh and ignoring the pain in my hip, I started to move, clambering to my feet carefully and doing another body check to make sure it was just soreness I was dealing with.

Chloe shone in my thoughts like a bright spark. I just wanted to get back to her.

Chapter Thirty-Nine