Page 28 of Breaking Through

I pressed the paper to my chest, thinking about Wade's smile and Grandpa's knowing eyes. Gran had always said love wasworth preserving. Looking at her careful notes about restoration and renewal, I was starting to understand exactly what she meant.

Chapter ten

Wade

Iwoke tasting smoke.

The remnants of the dream clung like cobwebs, sticky with the persistent memories I'd spent three years trying to forget. I'd seen hands reaching through flame-split walls, but this time, instead of strangers' faces in the inferno, I saw Holden. His eyes were wide. Trusting. Burning.

The sweat-soaked sheets tangled around my legs like the ropes we'd used to secure the warehouse perimeter that night in Chicago. My heart hammered against my ribs with the all-too-familiar desperate rhythm—get them out, get them out, get them out.

3:47 AM. My clock's red numbers shone in the night like emergency exit signs.

The lake would help. It had been my healing salve so many times before. I threw on swim trunks, not bothering with a shirt. The chilly night air bit into my scarred skin as I stepped onto the cabin's porch, but I welcomed the cool sting. It was ten times better than phantom flames.

Stars scattered across the pre-dawn sky like glowing embers, but the thought didn't trigger me like it would have just a year ago. As my therapist insisted, I'd made progress. Or maybe I was merely exhausted.

Lake Michigan stretched black before me to the horizon, where the water met an indigo sky. Usually, her spring-fed depths could wash away anything, even horrific nightmares. Lately—since Holden started gazing at me with his artist's eyes—the lake's embrace was different. It was less solitude and more lonely.

The water closed over my head, cold enough to steal my breath. I let myself sink until my toes brushed the bottom, counting heartbeats. One-two-three-surface. One-two-three-surface. The rhythm was as familiar as breathing, but it wasn't enough.

Something had shifted since that morning Holden captured me with his camera. It was like a crack developing in a load-bearing wall. I knew it was only going to spread.

My dreams were getting worse again, but it wasn't a sign of backsliding. It told me that I was wanting things again. I imagined possibilities that couldn't easily fit into my carefully reconstructed life.

The gentle waves broke the moonlight's reflection into silver sections. It was beautiful, the kind of beauty Holden loved to preserve with his Polaroids. Just like that, he'd crept into my thoughts again.

"Damn it." My voice scattered across the water. Even here, in my pre-dawn sanctuary, I couldn't escape him. I couldn't stop wondering if he'd see the lake's moods the way I did or whether he'd understand why sometimes the only peace I could find was in her depths.

The eastern sky began to lighten to a pearl color, and I decided it was time to drag myself back to shore. My toes hadgone numb, but the dreams pulled back, replaced by something potentially more dangerous—hope.

I checked my watch. Two hours until our meeting for the shelter assessment. Two hours to rebuild the walls that kept me safe—kept everyone safe.

That was the plan, but as I trudged back toward my cabin, towel wrapped around my shoulders, I knew it was already too late. You can't forget about the light once it finds the cracks in your darkness. You can only decide whether to let it all the way in or keep fighting the dawn.

Dawn was winning.

***

I heard Maya's infectious laugh well before I reached the ranger station's open door. It wasn't her usual professional chuckle. It was a real laugh that made her sound her age. I knew before I walked in who had caused it. Only one person had that impact on my fellow rangers.

"So then Sarah says, 'Well, if the squirrels are unionizing, we better start paying them in premium trail mix.'" It was Holden's voice, warm as the morning sun. He perched on the edge of Maya's desk, wearing the volunteer vest I'd left out for him. It hung slightly crooked on his shoulders, with the park service patch folded where it should lie flat.

My fingers itched to straighten it.

"Morning. Look who's all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed—not." Maya's eyes danced with barely contained mischief. "Coffee's fresh. Made it strong, figured you might need it after your swim."

I grunted, not asking how she knew. Small towns. Probably three people had reported my pre-dawn lake visit to Sarah before the Bean even opened.

Holden turned toward me. His hair was still shower-damp. He needed a cut. It curled slightly at his collar. He beamed with that smile that made him look even younger than his twenty-five years. "Does the vest look okay? Maya was showing me the proper way to record condition notes, but I think I'm getting inspector's block. Is that even a thing?"

Too close. He was too close. I'd let him in too far. All that youth and warmth was taking up space in my carefully ordered world. I retreated to my office, calling over my shoulder, "We should head out. Light's best for documenting damage this time of morning."

"Right behind you." His footsteps followed, lighter than mine on the old floorboards. "I brought a few of Gran's journals with the notes, thinking they might help with—oh!"

He'd stopped in my doorway. I didn't need to look to know what had caught his attention. The architectural drawings spread across my desk were hardly official ranger business.

"These yours?" He moved closer, radiating that quiet intensity that took over when he saw something he liked. "The perspective work is incredible."

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