Page 88 of Hope After Loss

“I’d leave it on if I were you. It will be harder to take the weight back on if you remove it now,” I say, trying my best to sound helpful and not bossy.

She heaves the straps back up onto her shoulders and leans against the rock. I hand her the canteen, and she takes it and drinks her fill. Then, she returns the cap and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Thank you,” she says as she hands it back to me.

“Are you good?” I ask.

“So far. How much farther?”

I look at our surroundings and make an educated guess. “I’d say, another three hours, give or take.”

She nods and stands up straight. “Okay, let’s keep going. We want to get there before nightfall.”

I grin. We should be there well before the sun sets.

She grabs her discarded poles, and I follow her as she heads back up the trail.

Damn, she’s a determined woman, and it’s sexy as hell.

Anna

The hike is arduous, but I do everything in my power not to let it show.

I was the one who begged him to bring me here, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to show one ounce of weakness.

You can do this, Anna.

Weston is a wonderful guide. It’s obvious that he is comfortable in these woods.

He leads me carefully up the trail. Making sure to point out things to avoid. He also gives me an informative history of the mountain.

He makes sure to have us stop for water and high-protein snacks as we make our ascent and even reapplies the sunscreen on us both halfway up.

“Watch your step. There’s a divot on the path up ahead from water runoff.”

I focus on the dirt ahead.

“How do you know that?” I ask.

“The trails can be tricky in early spring. All the snow melts from the tops of the mountains and comes down mid-March. You never know how that runoff will cut into the land. We were taught to keep our eyes at least twenty feet ahead of our feet at all times to make sure it’s safe,” he explains.

“Thank you for doing this with me,” I say.

His eyes flit over his shoulder to me. “You’re welcome.”

We hike a few more feet up when he stops suddenly, and his arm shoots out to the side to halt me.

“What?” I start to ask, and he brings a finger up to his lips to shush me. Then, he points to the right.

My eyes follow his finger, and off in the distance are a black bear and two small cubs.

“Weston,” I cry as I fist my hands into the hem of his shirt.

“It’s okay, just stay still. They’ll move along,” he whispers.

“What if they come this way?” I ask, panic rising in my throat.

“Just stay calm and still. Don’t make any loud noises.”