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“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

My laugh mixes with Paige’s as we tumble out of my hotel room bed in a clash of limbs from the biggest hug known to sisters.

There was never any doubt I would be her maid of honour. Once upon a time, when I was engaged to Levi’s sperm donor, she was mine. And she was a damn good one. Too bad I had a better sister than a fiancé. But that’s all in the past.

“You’re going to wake up Levi,” I say, shushing her loud cackle.

“Oh, sorry.” She immediately drops her voice and looks over into the dark adjoining room. We strain our ears for a few seconds, listening for movement.

I slump in relief. We’re safe.

Levi was a nightmare to get to sleep tonight. He’s been so difficult since we got here, and no amount of singing, rocking, or cuddling can get that little monster to settle down. I’m exhausted, and though it’ll be hard to say goodbye to Utah again, I’m looking forward to getting home.

Home .

I think of the little apartment where Levi and I live. It’s the same one Paige had when she first moved to Vancouver. Now that she’s living with Adam, she let me take over her lease. It’s the perfect size for me—not too big, but it has two bedrooms and a kitchen, living room, and bathroom. That’s all I need.

Being a homebody, you’d think I’d want more space since I’m either at work or at home, but I don’t. As long as things are comfortable, I’m satisfied. Though it would be nice to have a bit of a backyard for Levi.

Sometimes I feel bad that I don’t take him out more. When we lived here in Utah, he was so small and I was on my own. Not being a hiker or even outdoorsy to begin with, I had no interest in strapping my newborn on and walking all over the desert. Now that we live in Vancouver? It’s wet. And if it’s not wet? Well, it’s still outside. No thank you.

There’s a soft knock at the door and Paige hobbles over to get it. The race ended a couple days ago but she’s still sore and depleted. She opens it to find Adam standing there with his big doe eyes, leaning on the doorframe as if he can’t quite hold himself up yet.

It’ll take them a while to recover. Why she and Adam have so much fun absolutely destroying themselves—and pay significant money to do so—is beyond me. You’d never catch me out on a trail like that. Hell, the only time you’d catch me running is for the ice cream truck.

Or a Hemsworth brother.

And even then, I’d hate every second of it. Where my sister is an athlete, a runner, I am not. Her long legs were built for running where my shorter, softer body was built for couch snuggling and spending hours on my feet in my lab. That’s about as much exercise as I get. Plus the hot yoga Paige and I do on Sundays.

“Hey, Leah,” Adam says as he tears his gaze away from my sister.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

“Better now.” A smile quirks his lips as his attention is drawn back to Paige. Like he couldn’t bear to have her out of his sight for even a few seconds. Without looking at me he asks, “Is it okay if I steal Paige away?”

I smile, having known this was coming since she barged in here to help me get Levi to bed. Those two are inseparable now, and she might have tried to convince me to have an old-fashioned sleepover, but I knew it wouldn’t last.

“Steal away.” I swing my arms, gesturing to my sister.

Paige turns to me and smiles, coming back over to tackle me to the bed in a big hug.

“Love you, Lee,” she whispers.

A lump builds in my throat.

“Love you too, Paige.”

Her smile is so big as she runs back to Adam, throwing her arms around his neck. He pulls her in by the waist and is kissing her before my door even closes.

Her long, tan legs and curvy ass are the last thing I see before they disappear into their little love bubble. I look down at my own legs and sigh, poking around my body.

It’s not that I’m necessarily unhappy with my appearance. But I’ve always felt a little like I drew the short straw on our genetics. It’s a good thing I love my sister, because that happiness percentage would be so much lower if I was the jealous type.

I know how much work she puts into exercising and training. She deserves every ounce of muscle and physical prowess she has.

She’s all our dad: tall and lean, with dark brown hair and a penchant for adventure and risk. I take after our mom: shorter than average without being short, curvy because of my affinity for desserts, with chin-length caramel-brown hair and a penchant to overthink and worry. Now I have all these scars from my baby and my accident last year. The biggest one is the exploratory laparotomy scar which travels from beneath my sternum all the way down to just above my pelvic bone. Right through my stomach.

The surgeon did a fine job—it’s fairly straight and it only puckers a little—but I still try to avoid looking at it. I may be softer and have a little more cushioning than my sister, but I still thought my body looked good, desirable even, until this scar split me open.

I remind myself I’d rather have a scar than be dead, so there’s that. Doesn’t mean I’m fond of it.

My heart still races when the memories wash over me, when we drive by a crash and I’m reminded of what could have happened. Whenever my mind drifts back to the accident, I’m bombarded with thoughts of “What if?” What if I had taken a different route home? What if I hadn’t strapped Levi into his car seat properly? What if he’d been hurt ... or worse? What if I had died?

The what-ifs haunt me, and the racing thoughts do nothing to calm my nerves. They got so bad a few months ago I almost opened up to Paige. Almost. But I’m her big sister. She shouldn’t have to take care of me. I know she’d be happy to help, but it felt like going against the grain. Like I was failing.

How could I be a single mom if I had to go to my little sister for help? She was going through enough at the time, what with being disqualified from the ultra and our mom passing away. Not to mention being fired from her job. How could I possibly be more of an inconvenience? I was already using her for babysitting services. I couldn’t put more on her.

Besides, her answer to everything is running. Which is always a hard no.

I’ll go to her events and cheer her on, but it will be a cold day in hell before she gets me to run any kind of race.

My chest tightens as I peer over the railing and into the depths of the canyon. Our flight leaves later today, but I had to come here one last time.

Bryce Canyon is a tourist trap for a reason. It’s beautiful. I can’t fault people for flocking here to take selfies with all the rock spires. I remember when our parents brought us for the first time once we were old enough. Mom told us the spires were called hoodoos. Paige and I both thought that was the funniest word and it became an insult in our family.

If we were being particularly terrible as teenagers, Mom would say, “get the hoodoo out of your ass,” and it would send me and Paige into fits of laughter .

These hoodoos are a marvel, and it’s one of the only outdoor places that’s ever given me any sort of peace. When everything feels too big, when I can’t seem to get a hold on my problems, I come here and feel insignificant. It helps me find perspective.

There’s a solid path with railings and a close parking lot. I don’t have to achieve a feat of supernatural physical strength to be able to enjoy it. I can just park my car, and the only physical activity required is wrestling with the stroller and toddler, which is plenty for me.

A small thrill runs through me as I lean over the railing. That’s about as far as I’ll let myself adventure. I’ve never even walked around or down into the canyon. I’ve just come to stand and admire the view from the top. Walking up the wide brick pathway, dodging tourists who aren’t paying attention to me and my stroller, I try to find a more secluded spot. It’s mid-October though. The weather is perfect for tourists, so it’s busy.

But I had to come.

Luckily, I find a small, unoccupied corner of the railing and park the stroller, cutting off anyone’s access to sneak in beside me. The wind whips over my face as I peer out into the depths of the canyon.

The sheer size and otherworldliness of it all calms my racing heart.

Closing my eyes, I breathe in and try to feel my mom’s presence. Paige said that’s how she feels her—when she’s connected to nature in a quiet, peaceful way. I was hoping this would help me connect.

But all I feel is the wind.