adventures with Brent and Wes, and Angela surprisingly didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she actually asked questions and laughed at some of their antics. Thinking about how much her sister-in-law had changed—how much they’d both changed—during the course of the last six months was almost enough to distract Eva from the pain radiating from her ankle and working its way up her leg.
Almost.
Every now and then Eva would suck in a breath without realizing it, the discomfort hissing through her teeth.
And she wasn’t the only one in pain. Her teammates both had their issues. Angela’s feet were so bad she’d lost a toenail sometime in the last day or two, and Marc’s eyes revealed his pure exhaustion—mental and physical.
They rested far more often than they should have, but what choice did Eva have? She had to give her ankle a break or she’d never make it.
Thankfully, the terrain had finally smoothed out, circling back to long stretches of farmland. Sheep grazed along the rolling hills and even up on the mountainsides, and packs of alpacas roamed near the thick wooden-slatted fences. Their humming sounded like a mixture of cows mooing and sheep bleating. Every time they passed a sheltered stack of hay bales, Eva was reminded they neared civilization.
Tomorrow they’d only have the last six miles to complete. Then they would arrive in Wanaka weary but triumphant.
And then . . . well, she didn’t know exactly what would happen. But she was determined that life wouldn’t be gray anymore. She’d find the color even if she had to root it out.
To create inspiration, not just look for it.
And having Marc and Angela’s family in her life would certainly play a big role in that.
Eva just needed to stay focused. In those moments when her ankle sent fire bolts up her leg and into her hip, she pushed her teeth together as hard as possible, flexing her jaw and narrowing her gaze at some point on the horizon.
It was in one of those moments that she caught the first flash of lightning. “Did you guys see that?”
“Yeah.” How was it possible for one word to hold so much dread? But Marc’s did.
They plodded on, and finally, the storm met them. By Marc’s calculations, they only had three miles left to go for the day, and a little over an hour to arrive at the final Stage 5 checkpoint.
They weren’t going to make it.
The realization struck Eva as the first raindrop slid down her face. The rumble of thunder drowned out the grinding of their shoes against tiny pebbles. Eva imagined herself in a movie—this would be the moment when music would start playing, something both upbeat and ominous. The audience watching would be scared for her, worried she’d buckle under the pressure, breathless with the anticipation of wondering if she would give up and let the elements destroy her resolve, or rise up and fight against them.
And maybe for a moment she’d be tempted to sit down right there in the middle of the path and cry from the agony ripping through her ankle, allowing the fear to take over. But then she’d keep going, because that’s what heroes did. They kept on even when everything in them wanted to give up.
Brent had been her hero. And now she had to be her own.
But life wasn’t like the movies. This she realized when she felt a new popping in her ankle and then tumbled down, her poles failing to keep her upright, her knee striking a rock, hands landing in mud that lined the outside of the trail.
“Eva!” Marc ran to her side, flinging his poles and pack off in the process.
Lightning burned a trail across the sky above them.
Eva squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to disappear, waiting to awaken from this nightmare. She felt gentle hands lifting her upright until she sat with her legs in front of her. Felt smaller hands probe her ankle. Heard a soft groan from Angela’s lips.
“How bad is it?” She managed to open her eyes.
“I think we’re done, Eva.” Angela rocked back on her behind, arms resting on her knees as rain streaked her face and the wind pulled wisps of hair from her ponytail.
Eva opened her mouth to protest, but instead leaned back against Marc, who was propping her up. The next words would be the hardest she would ever say—but maybe she could be a different sort of hero today. “I might be done. But you guys should go on without