evergreens.
Wyatt hadn’t yet moved.
Grace came to his side where she could see his face. He seemed to be taking in the area with all of his senses. His pulse throbbed in his neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his chest rising and falling quickly.
She touched his arm softly, not wanting to startle him. “Is this it?”
“Yes,” he said without looking at her.
She waited for him to make the next move. What was going through his mind? What emotions were flooding to the surface? They’d just entered a very private area of his life. Did she have the capacity to help him deal with whatever he’d be facing?
He started walking again, toward the boulders. Grace whispered a prayer for him. A prayer that she’d know how to help him. This is a good thing. He’ll finally find closure.
Once at the tower of boulders, he stopped and looked around. Turned to face the south. He stared into the sparsely wooded forest, its floor carpeted with pine needles.
“We camped over that way.” He strode that direction.
“Do you want me to stay here?”
“No.”
She traipsed after him, relieved. She wasn’t sure what he’d need from her, but she didn’t want him to be alone. “Do you remember how far it was?”
“Not far.”
He was walking faster now, on a mission, seemingly confident of the direction he’d chosen.
Grace hurried to keep up with him, the scent of pine filling her every breath. They ascended a small incline, dodging red spruce and Fraser firs and moss-covered rocks. A squirrel scuttled across their path, jumped onto a tree trunk, and scampered up it.
* * *
Wyatt stared straight ahead as he strode up the incline. It was just over this ridge. He knew it like he knew his own birthday. Like he’d known they were entering the area before he even saw the tower of rocks. He’d felt it in his bones.
He’d planned to leave Grace there and continue on alone. Wasn’t sure what he’d feel when he returned to the spot that had changed his life forever. But when she’d asked in that soft, careful voice, he realized he wanted her there. He wanted her calming presence and her soothing touch. He was going to need it. His racing, erratic heartbeat and spinning thoughts were proof of that.
He reached the small rise and stared down into a shallow basin where the evergreens soared overhead. The area didn’t look much different than what they’d just traipsed across, but he knew without a doubt—this was it.
He walked down the small incline and toward the spot where they’d camped. He’d forgotten about the smell of decay. Forgotten the gnarly tree roots poking up through the forest floor and the fallen tree trunks covered in moss.
He remembered now.
He could only approximate the spot where they’d pitched their tent, but that didn’t matter. This was the last place his mother had laughed. The last place she’d spoken to him. The last place she’d drawn breath.
“This is it.”
Grace’s fingers slowly laced with his, and he was grateful for the touch. For the connection. The area was so peaceful and beautiful in its own rugged way, the sunlight breaking through in spots. “Hard to believe something so awful happened here.”
She pressed into his side. “You must’ve been so frightened.”
She had no idea—because he’d told her very little. But he was finished holding back. It was time to bring down the wall. He braced himself for the memories, the feelings, the helplessness that would crowd in, trampling the illusion of confidence he’d built over the years. He knew he needed to face this once and for all. Face his inadequate response. And somehow learn to live with it.
“My mom didn’t just die out here, Grace.” The rush of blood in his ears nearly drowned out his own voice. “She was killed.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Grace stared at Wyatt, his shocking words still registering in her brain. A bird cried from a nearby tree as a cloud moved over the sun, cloaking the forest in shadow.
“Your mom was killed?” She didn’t want to press him. He almost seemed as if he wasn’t here at all. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was back there, back then, revisiting his worst nightmare.
“We were camping.” His tone was devoid of all emotion. “Spent a few days every summer doing that, me and my mom. Dad wasn’t much for the outdoors, but my mom . . . She loved it out here. We set up camp at sunset as usual. I gathered wood and