Page 31

Chapter thirty

Chris

I pick up the pace, eager to reach the Jeep and head to Anna’s. Based on her text earlier that she might not be able to make it, she must have had a busy day. I’ll pick up some supper and we can spend the evening curled up together. Maybe I’ll have the courage to tell her Isaac and I contacted the seller on the Pebble Beach house. I’m already unclipping my small day pack and trying to decide what sounds best to eat when I register the familiar car right next to my own. A smile stretches across my face as I break into a jog. As I draw nearer and see that the car is empty, my face falls. Her phone goes to voicemail. I lean against her vehicle, utterly confused. If she’s on the trail, how come we didn’t pass each other? My chest aches with every minute she doesn’t come into sight.

“Fuck this.” I storm to my tailgate, throwing it open to take stock of what I have.

It’s not very organized but there’s a hell of a lot of useful stuff.

“Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”

I already have a first aid kit and water in the pack I was using. After adding a space blanket and an extra flashlight I turn back toward the trailhead, trying to keep my heart out of my throat. Within minutes of hiking, it’s impossible to ignore that the sun is fully set. I try like hell not to imagine Anna sitting out in the forest in the pitch dark. She’s smart and strong and if I can’t find her right away, I’ll call for backup. It’s only been an hour or so since I last heard from her, but I decide to text Berg about what’s going on. The last thing we need is for more than one person to be missing or hurt. And at that thought, I feel physically ill. Anna could be more than lost. She could be injured.

***

“Anna!”

I’m sick of the sound of my own voice having called out her name a hundred times. I don’t want to risk walking right past her or having her be scared I’m some creep. I’m more than ready to hear her voice. I’m about halfway through the route she should have taken when my flashlight illuminates something brightly coloured on the path. It’s a pink hair tie, still clean in its spot like it hasn’t been stepped on. There’s a good chance it’s hers. I crouch down where I found it, searching for a footprint or something to follow, when a gust of wind makes me pause.

“Smoke?”

For a moment, the distinct smell is obvious and then the wind subsides. Every few metres I stop to get my bearings. I’m tuned in to the smallest sounds, constantly hoping for another hint of smoke. A scream cuts through the darkness, I startle, nearly dropping the flashlight before I sweep the beam of lights through the trees.

“Oh, Christ.”

I cup my hands around my mouth, giving it my all, “ANNA!”

My lungs burn as I hold my breath for a response.

“Chris? I did it!”

What is she talking about? The only thing she’s done tonight is give me my first grey hair.

“Anna, where the fuck are you? Sorry, God, where are you, Annie?”

I squint through the treeline at the tiniest hint of light. Branches hit me in the face, and I don’t even care as I speed up to get to her. My flashlight bobs erratically through the brush.

“Anna,” I say, more quietly as I break through the trees.

My breath goes out of me at the sight of her next to what is basically the most pathetic fire I’ve ever seen. But she made it, she fucking did that herself, so it’s top of the charts in my books.

“Look! I did it!”

She looks so proud, holding her arms out to display the flames that hiss as they crawl over the damp wood.

“You sure did, baby.” My voice is ragged after shouting her name.

Softer this time, emotion distorting her own voice, she repeats, “I did it. I did it.”

Tears form in her eyes. There was a time that would freak me out. But I don’t feel the urge to stop her tears, only to catch them for her. I spring into action, hands trembling as I slip my pack off my shoulders, and crash down on my knees to pull her into a crushing hug.

“I made a fire,” she croaks.

My throat aches, this time with emotion. “I’m so damn proud. ”

That fire could have been the difference between life and death for her. Tears fall freely down her face.

“Your firestarter was in my bag.”

I press a kiss to the cold tip of her nose. “Little thief.”

Her soft giggle only turns into another sob.

“Sorry,” she says, “I haven’t cried yet. Well, not about this. You’re probably so mad you had to hunt me down.”

I cup the back of her head. “Mad? No, baby. Why would you think that?”

“My, um, my mom’s husband…ex-husband? Thad called me right before I came out here hoping to catch up to you.”

Her comment about crying earlier makes sense. How the hell can she be thousands of miles from this guy, and he still manages to destroy her in a phone call? I’m blocking his number. Hell, I’ll look into a no-contact order.

After a moment, I pull away to snag some supplies from my pack. The heat-reflecting blanket crinkles as I wrap it around her shoulders.

“Trying to earn your first Girl Guide badge or something?”

She hiccups through her laughter at my dumb joke.

“Oh, I earned it, alright. Our kids are absolutely going to Girl Guides or Boy Scouts or wherever they need to go to learn this stuff,” she says, admiring the flames licking at the fresh stick I placed on the fire.

Our what? All the beach house renovations I’d been imagining blur, new ones coming into focus that feature babies. I try to conjure up the photos from the real estate listing. Which one of those rooms would make the best nursery? I’m ready to skip around the fire and howl into the darkness at the thought of having a family with her. I bundle her against my chest again, barely holding it together. It’s dramatic, but I don’t even want her out of my sight again. She is moving into that house with me. Maybe not right away, but soon. Gently, I cup her chin to turn her head. The fire illuminates the right side of her face, lighting up her eyes. I brush my thumb across her lip like I did that first time in The Roastery.

“Anna, I was worried sick. I will always come find you. I love you.”

She blinks quickly, lashes wet with her tears. “I love you, too.”

Then she comes at me in full force. I’m knocked backwards, my head landing in a pile of wet leaves. How am I supposed to try and tell her about the house? Later, I decide, before taking her mouth in firm kiss that has me hardening against her stomach.

“Anna, we have to get down this mountain. ”

She peppers my jaw with kisses, her nose and cheeks no longer cold.

“What? You didn’t bring the tent?”

I haul us up to standing, adjusting the foil blanket better around her shoulders and handing her my spare flashlight.

“No. And even if I did, we don’t have s’mores stuff, so how could we possibly camp out?” I say, snuffing out the fire so there’s no trace of embers left.

She’s had a harrowing day. Later if she needs to get everything that happened with Thad off her chest she can. But I need her calm and focused so we can walk safely out of here in the dark.

Her shoulder nudges mine playfully. “Of course. What was I thinking?”

“C’mon, get your bag.”

We pick our way carefully down the trail. I can’t help holding her hand or elbow or guiding her by the small of her back. Not when an hour ago I didn’t know if she was safe. If it was possible, I’d carry her the whole way down.

Anna loves me.

I want to tell her again so that I can hear her say it back. I want to yell it into the forest. To climb up instead of down and scream it over the cliff where the sound might reach the ocean. But there’s no hurry. I wait until we’re at my place, where I can feed her and wash her hair with the damn overpriced salon shampoo I’m doomed to buy for the rest of my life. And when she’s tucked safely against my side after I’ve made love to her, I whisper it. So only her and I can hear.

“I love you, Anna.”

“I love you too, Chris.”

And that’s the last thing we say that night. And the first thing we say the next morning.