a home.”
Technically, I don’t.
I’d hang up, but Prescott wouldn’t call if he didn’t have a reason. I ignore his comment about home and hurry this conversation along.
“Do you need something?” Some other document I need to sign?
“We’re worried about you.” Prescott and his wife, Gracie, care about me, but their sympathy suffocate me.
“Don’t be.”
“When are you coming home?”
Never.
“We talked about this.” I told him to give me time.
“It’s been two months.” The tone of his voice shifts, talking to me like a moody teenager instead of a grown woman.
It’ll be two more months, two years, maybe two decades. I have no intention of ever going back.
“Stop worrying about me.”
“Where are you?”
I take in a steadying breath. He frustrates me with his need to keep tabs on my whereabouts.
“I’m on a forest trail somewhere in wine country.”
“California?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get to California from Colorado?”
I cringe, because this is going to lead to questions I don’t want to answer.
“I don’t see any transactions.” As executer of my trust, he has access to my accounts. In two months, when I hit twenty-five, I’ll gain access to the Thornton estate worth hundreds of millions. Frankly, I’d rather have my parents, and my brother, than the money.
Do I admit I hitchhiked? He’ll have a cow.
I glance around, eager to get on with my hike. There’s another six miles before I reach my camping spot for the day and I’d like to be settled long before sunset. I’ve learned the hard way not to wait for dark to make camp.
Late summer, the grass is brown, crisped by the sun, and starved of rain. Junipers sprawl across the ground, thickening further up the ridge where they join drought resistant pines. Prescott is ruining my perfect day.
My world consists of browns and greens and intrusive phone calls making it impossible to live in the present.
“Look, I promised I’d check in, but if you don’t need me…”
“Gracie is beside herself. We don’t know where you are. You’re not even in the same state anymore. It’s not safe out there.”
And here we go with the blah-blah-blah crap about the dangers of a young woman traveling on her own.
According to him, I’m more likely to wind up dead in a ditch than…well, I don’t know where I’m more likely to wind up. On some trail in butt-fuck nowhere would be nice, preferably without cellphone reception.
“I’m not going to check in every day. I appreciate your concern, but I need space.”
I need time to grieve.
“It’s just—a young woman hiking alone. It’s dangerous. We worry. Could you just turn on the tracker?”
“No. We talked about that.” I don’t need them tracking my whereabouts. “I’m good and I promise I’m being safe.”
I have a knife, a pistol, a taser, and bear repellant. Although, I don’t think bear repellant does anything to keep bears away.
I ask questions. I learn. Other than wearing full body armor, I can’t be any safer.
I come from a life of excess, where I did nothing for myself. Look what that got me?
Now, I rely only on myself.
Granted, I make rookie mistakes. I’m not an outdoorsy kind of girl, but I will be. All the hustle and bustle that came with being a New York socialite is behind me forever. I’m never going back to that life.
“Please, Evie. You have so much left here. Let me send a jet…”
“No.” We’ve gone over this.
“You can’t just walk away.”
He’s wrong. Two months ago, I did just that. I’m a city girl slowly becoming an outdoor enthusiast, and I don’t regret turning my back on that life. I’m rediscovering who I am.
An outcropping of rock comes into view. I’m out of breath. Hiking and talking take the wind out of me. I stop and decide to scramble to the top.
“Look, I gotta go.”
“Evie…” He knows I don’t need to do anything. My time is mine.
“I promise to check in. I’m spending a few days here. There’s a bunch of really great hikes around here, but fair warning, I’m headed to the Sierra’s next. I’ll be out of contact for a couple weeks at least.”
“We could send you a satellite phone.”
“I don’t want it.” I’m a strong, independent woman, and while I may be a little lost in life right now, I’ve got this. “I’ll call you in a few days, okay?” I stare at the boulders, itching to climb them. I take off my pack and prop it at the base of the towering rock.
“Promise?” He’s frustrated. I can tell by the tone of