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Simone has her arms around Lucas’s waist when we arrive at the hiking trail. They’re gazing at each other with so much love and tenderness, my heart doesn’t know if it should ache or wish for the same one day.
I study the mountain in front of us, jutting up from the forest of tall pine, and gulp down my uncertainty. Medically speaking, am I even allowed to hike that? My stab wound is healing on the outside, but what about the internal damage? I was supposed to see a physician after I was released from prison. It didn’t exactly fit in with my plan to escape the media and my former life in San Diego.
When it comes to clearing away Iris’s magazines, I’ve been taking things easy and carrying smaller loads to the garage. I’ve been biking, but not all that hard. And my lungs have started to acclimatize to the altitude. All of that must count for something.
“You all right?” Troy asks. I didn’t even notice him approach.
I nod, still staring at the mountain.I. Can. Do. This.I want to do this. It’s not Mount Everest. It’s survivable.
Savannah Townsend would never have hiked a mountain—mostly because her husband wouldn’t have let her. But Jessica Smithson wouldn’t think twice about scaling it. “I’m fine, thanks. I just don’t want to slow you down.”
That’s the truth.
Troy gently hooks my chin with his finger, and I flinch.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, dropping his hand away.
“It’s okay. I promise I’ll try not to react that way if you touch me like that again.” A smile ghosts my lips. “How about we rewind time and have a do-over.” I turn my face back to the mountain I was just staring at. “I’m fine, thanks. I just don’t want to slow you down, Troy.”
Troy hooks my chin with his finger once more and turns my face to his. I don’t flinch. My fight-or-flight instinct doesn’t kick in. A shiver travels up my spine. It’s not a shiver of disgust or fear or shame. Just the opposite. It’s a shiver of want. Desire. Desire to be touched like I matter.
His gaze searches my eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Jess. This is about you having a good time. Don’t push yourself too hard, respect your limits, and everything will be fine.”
Right. I can do that.Hopefully.
20
TROY
March, Present Day
Maple Ridge
Every hiking season,Maple Ridge’s search and rescue team locates missing hikers who didn’t respect the landscape, the weather, their limits, or a combination of all three. Some hikers don’t even make it out alive.
I don’t want Jessica to make the same mistake. “Tell me if you need to slow down, or if you need to take a break. It’s not a race to see who can get to the top first.”
She nods, her attention on the mountain ahead of us. “I will.”
The group walks along the trail. I purposely picked the easier one for Jessica’s benefit. I want her to enjoy the hike. It helps when you’re struggling with PTSD to do activities that relax you. And I can’t think of anything more relaxing than being out here. In the mountains. It’s so peaceful.
The path is wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Simone and Lucas are together. Zara and Emily are busy chatting about a wedding Emily is helping organize. Garrett and Kellan are in front of Jessica and me. None of my brothers are talking. Like me, they’re paying attention to our surroundings. Being vigilant.
Much like what Jess is doing. She’s constantly scanning the area as if expecting a bear to charge us.
“You haven’t served in the military, have you?” I ask her.
“No. Why?” A stick snaps somewhere to the left of us, and her head jerks in that direction.
Shit, this was supposed to be relaxing.
“You’re constantly checking our surroundings. Like they’re doing.” I point to Garrett and Kellan. Kellan’s attention is on the trail ahead of us. Garrett is doing a shoulder check, his muscles taut as if ready to react to danger. “They can’t switch off the ingrained instinct that came from our Marine training. But what about you? Why are you constantly looking over your shoulder like you’re expecting someone to sneak up on you?”
She turns her face away from me, but not before I catch her slip her bottom lip between her teeth. She’s silent for a beat, then turns back to me. “A…a friend of mine in college was stalked. She was always checking over her shoulder. I guess it must have rubbed off on me.”
“I’d say it did more than just rub off on you.” If anything, I’d say she was the one who’d dealt with the stalker, not her friend.
An affirming silence settles between us, and I let it sit there like an unexploded land mine.
