Page 94 of In a Word, Yes

Thirty-Six

ardent(adj.): showing an intense degree of devotion; passionate

Wyatt drives a sporty blue Subaru pickup, and I definitely don’t hate it.

We park at a trailhead, elevation well over six thousand feet. Fir trees abound. The air is apple-crisp and thick with pine. Our destination, an alpine lake. I’m schoolgirl giddy.

I like that’s it’s a new hike for Wyatt, too, and one that doesn’t require a high level of endurance.

“You brought a notebook?” he says, watching me zip my small turquoise hydration backpack, something I scored at a discount on my first-ever trip to REI.

I may not own dedicated hiking shoes, but at least I sort of look the part.

I tug my beanie on. “Never know when inspiration might strike.”

Is this a dorky thing? Possibly. But hasn’t Wyatt already become acquainted with this side of me?

He inspects my outfit. “Sure you’re going to be warm enough?”

I have absolutely no idea. I give him a crooked smile and a shrug.

I hear a clipping sound as if he’s adding something to his pack.

Soon we’re trekking through an open meadow of grasses painted autumn gold, rimmed by a high rocky brow. I recognize the ridge’s contours after viewing them for five years from town below.

Many of the trees up here are twisted and stunted. Wyatt and I share a laugh over one that resembles a poorly manicured bonsai. We haven’t passed a single hiker. Seem to have this alpine wonderland all to ourselves.

“I have to tell you, Lucy,” he says, stopping. “The more I know you—you’re such a kind, caring person and an amazing mom—I’m having a hard time accepting that someone could treat you so cruelly.” I know by the set of his jaw and the slight bulging of a vein in his neck that he’s speaking of Devin.

And I wonder if I’m hearing a question behind the question.

We face one another in the middle of a boundless meadow. “Look, Wyatt. You’re probably wondering how I even got myself into that situation. How could I have been so stupid, right?”

“No, I’m not ... You’re anything but—”

“It’s okay. I’ve had to ask myself the same thing. And I’m still hard on myself. I mean, it makes sense that a person might end up in a toxic relationship if they’ve never witnessed anything else, right? If they’ve only ever experienced relational dysfunction. But my parents have a loving, respectful marriage. So it’s logical to wonder what happened.”

And so I explain to the best of my ability what I’m still coming to understand myself about the unhealthy detours I’ve taken. How I hadn’t been able to fix Mikey. And how after he died, hard as I tried, I wasn’t able to patch the pieces of our Humpty-Dumpty family back together again—not in the same way, at least. And how by then, my fixer tendencies were baked in.

So, I’d gone all in on a project named Devin.

If only I’d known the stakes.

Looking back, I can clearly see the ways he made me doubt the goodness of my family. His slow and strategic dismantling of my confidence.

Airhead.

Idiot.

Because any time I acted secure in myself, it made him insecure. And eventually, it made him dangerous.

You’ll never find anyone else who loves you like I do.

Lies. All of it. Nevertheless, he’d rewired my brain.

He needed me to be ever at his mercy. Which I was ... for longer than seems logical.

Wyatt’s warm gaze offers understanding. “It makes sense. I love that you have such a soft heart. I just hate that you and Chase got hurt.”