Page 128 of Gunnar

I huff out a laugh and keep going.

Outside, I follow the trail as it drops away from the lodge, the ground firm under my boots where the frost hasn’t quite lifted. The air’s cold enough to bite at my face, but the sun’s out, bright and clean, in a pale blue sky.

So, this is freedom.

The slope evens out after a few minutes, the path widening enough that I don’t have to watch every step. My shoulders loosen. I adjust the strap of my backpack, take a sip of water.

I don’t think about where I’m going. I just walk, humming to myself, hardly believing that this weight has lifted from me.

After a while, the trail narrows to little more than a track, the ground sloping gently. The light changes, then the space opens up ahead.

The clearing looks different in daylight.

Just a patch of open ground, the grass dulled by frost, the sky stretched wide above it. Nothing about it stands out, unless you know what happened here.

This is where Gunnar brought me that night, before he and Orson had that terrible fight.

Last night was a world away from that.

Orson was on his feet again, knocking back beer as if he was making up for lost time.

When I walked in, he looked straight at me.

“You saved my life,” he said, like it didn’t cost him anything to admit it.

Then he grinned, clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to knock me off balance.

“You’re one of us now.”

I close my eyes for a moment, the memory warming my chest.

Then I shrug my backpack off and unzip it, pulling out one of my law books.

I sit, tucking one leg under me, and balance it across my knees. The pages lift in the wind.

“Okay,” I mutter.

I smooth my hand over the page and start reading.

It’s familiar. I know this. I’ve read it before, highlighted half of it, argued with the rest.

I should be able to drop straight back into it.

My eyes slide over the first paragraph without taking anything in.

I blink, drag them back to the start.

Focus.

I press my finger to the page, tracking the words.

That lasts maybe three seconds.

I let out a breath and lean back, squinting up at the sky.

Read.

I shake my head and force my attention back to the text. It shouldn’t be this difficult.