Page 178 of Sunrise & Serenity

For the first time since he left, closing the distance between us feels possible.

CHAPTER 44

HOLDEN

The lodge is quiet when I step inside. The crew is outside finishing up, taking advantage of the cool morning before the heat settles over the valley.

For a moment, I just stand there. The photo wall stretches across the far side of the room, sunlight spilling over the frames.

I’ve seen it before. Passed it. Glanced at it. But with everything that’s happened, I haven’t stopped long enough to really look.

Not until now.

I move closer. The photographs pull me in the way they seem to pull everyone else in.

The story of Wild Ember spread across an entire wall.

“She’s done a hell of a job.” Dad’s voice breaks the silence.

I glance over my shoulder. He’s standing near the reception desk, holding a coffee mug, a smile touching his mouth.

“Yeah,” I say. “She has.”

“I keep thinking how much your mom would have loved this.” His gaze drifts across the collection. “She would’ve loved Sage too.”

I can’t find the words to respond to that. But Dad doesn’t give me time to dwell on it.

“Taryn stopped by my office this morning.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Everything okay?”

He nods. “She’s still a bit shaken up.”

I can’t exactly blame her.

“She said she keeps replaying it,” he continues. “The bank collapsing. Sage hitting her head.”

A knot tightens in my gut. “I guess that’s normal.”

“Yep. I think she’s worried Sage blames her. She said if she’d only waited for the others, or if she’d been the one to go down with the calf, it wouldn’t have happened.”

I shake my head. “Sage isn’t the kind of person to blame anyone. It was an accident, that’s all.”

He nods. “Told her the same thing.” Then he lets out a slow breath. “But it’s easier said than done sometimes. Hell, I did it for years.”

My brows draw together. “Did what?”

With his focus fixed on the photographs in front of us, he says, “Replayed it.” He tips his chin up. “Your mom’s accident.”

My heart lurches and my stomach twists.

“I came up with a hundred ways that day could have gone differently. If I’d asked her to stop at the feed store first.” His voice is quiet. “If she’d left ten minutes later. If the car in front of her had been slower. If that man had pulled over when he started feeling sick.” He shakes his head. “Hell, if I’d just kissed her before she got in her truck, it might have been enough.”

The grief in his voice is old now, worn smooth by time. But it’s still there.

His gaze shifts to mine. “Thing is, none of those versions changed a damn thing.” He looks back at the story Sage built. “You know what else I figured out?”

I don’t answer, and he doesn’t seem to expect me to anyway.