Page 179 of Catch the Sun

Clearing my throat, I bob my head quickly and force back an embarrassing waterfall of tears. “Well, I’m glad you had a good night at the art show. How’s school going?”

Brynn fills me in on her college courses and criminal justice journey, the enthusiasm making its way back into her voice. We spend the next fifteen minutes talking, catching up, and reminiscing about the good times as the dark-blue stretch overhead turns almost black and we say our goodbyes.

It’s just me now.

Me and the sky.

Me and my childhood wish.

I lie back and wait, hoping the sky will burst to life above me in streaks of glittering green. It’s a clear, cloudless night, the perfect canvas for auroras.

When I was ten years old, Jonah told me about the northern lights. I’d been back in Nashville for a few years and our bond had grown ten times stronger. My wishes became his wishes. His dreams became my dreams. Jonah said that when I was older, we’d take a road trip together up to Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park and try to watch the light show when the moon was shrouded and the sky was clear.

I held on to that dream, even after he went to prison.

It became my dream.

So as my mother and I made the drive to Juniper Falls in silence after Jonah’s sentencing with our fresh start dangling on a bleak horizon, I made a promise to myself that I would find my way to this park on my twenty-first birthday. I’d spend the night lying underneath the stars, waiting for that first emerald spark.

I’m doing it.

Cold air bites at my nose as my hair halos around me in the grass, spilling out from underneath my wool hat. It’s in the low thirties and snow is predicted in the incoming week, a change of season I’m eager to dive into. But tonight, the sky is clear. Tonight, the sky is just for me.

My teeth chatter and my toes curl into my fuzzy socks and fleece-lined boots as I tug my orange scarf a little tighter and fold my arms across my puffy coat.

I wait.

I wait for one hour. Two hours. The cup of hot cocoa I brought is mostly gone, the remaining liquid ice-cold. Frost-tipped grass blades poke the back of my neck, making me itchy. It’s nearly 11:00 p.m. when I’m ready to call it quits and give up.

I almost do.

Almost.

But then I hear something.

Frowning, I sit up straight, a strange noise penetrating the silence of nature. At first, I think it’s an animal, a white-tailed deer or a curious fox. Hopefully not a coyote.

Only…I think it’s something worse.

A person.

Footsteps crunch along leaves and sticks, approaching on my left, and goose bumps prickle the back of my neck. Nerves slither down my spine. All I can imagine is a mountain man leaping from the trees with a rusted ax and hacking away at me until my dreams fade to black beneath an aurora-less sky. It’s instinct to immediately conjure up danger, ever since McKay’s attack. I’ve come a long way in my healing journey, but I’m a lot more careful these days.

Truthfully, I shouldn’t have come out here alone.

The footsteps approach.

I choke.

I jump to my feet, my gaze scanning the darkened surroundings, senses on high alert.

My heart pounds when a shadowy figure comes into view in my peripheral vision, the face shrouded by the night.

Oh God.

I’m shivering, more from fear than the cold. Icicles bloom in my lungs and sleet rains down inside my chest.

Holding my breath, I clench my gloved hands into fists, gather my courage, and whip around.

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