Page 4 of Begin Again

It was the first time he brought me here, and it quickly became one of my favorite spots. This is where I come to think, to get away from it all, and to just be. One of the great things about living in a place like Shadow Grove, so close to nature, is that no matter how many times I walk this trail, there is always a surprise waiting. New wildlife, new plants, new trees, new people.

Not that I want to see or talk to anyone right now, I just want it to be me, nature, and Umbra.

I wince as I cross a particularly rough patch of the trail. Not because I was steamrolled by the Doberman earlier—though my ribs are gonna feel that later—but because the weight of today is creeping back in. Uncle Gabe’s funeral was this morning, and I’d been hoping the fresh air would help me decompress. Turns out, grief doesn’t care about fresh air. It just follows you. Clings to your skin like humidity in July.

I pause to take a sip from my tumbler, the cool liquid a welcome relief as it slides down my throat. Even away from the hustle and bustle of town, I can’t seem to quiet the thoughts spiraling around in my head. Grief is funny that way—it’ll find you no matter how fast you run.

My uncle’s death has been like a thunderclap that’s left everyone in town shaken. Gabe wasn’t just my uncle; he was the cornerstone of Shadow Grove. The guy everyone looked to for guidance, jokes, and the best damn barbecue in town. For decades, he and Aunt Aubrey were the bleeding heart of this town. Now, with him gone, nothing feels quite right.

Aunt Aubrey has been a wreck. She’s been glued to my side since his death, alternating between bouts of quiet grief and episodes of furious casserole cooking. My best friend, Mo, had to stage an intervention this morning just to give me a breather. It’s not that I don’t love my aunt—of course, I do—but a guy needs his space. Even grief needs room to breathe, and Aubrey’s constant hovering is suffocating me.

So here I am. Alone in the woods. Trying—and failing—to make sense of it all.

The department said he left work early because he wasn’t feeling well. On his way home, he pulled over to be sick, lost his footing, slipped, and hit his head. By the time Morgan found him, it was too late. He was in a coma, and he never woke up.

He was supposed to retire later this year. He’d been calling it his Christmas gift to Aunt Aubrey—promising her after decades of service, they’d finally have thetime. They were planning on globetrotting, and had spent their entire lives playing ‘this time next year we’ll be in…’ Now there’s nothing.

Nothing but a fridge full of casseroles, an empty placemat at the dinner table, and a house that feels more like a shrine than a home.

Mo—god bless her—pulled some sort of magic trick to distract Aunt Aubrey for the day. It had to do with baking and fresh fruit from her garden, but I don’t remember the specifics. There is nothing she can’t do when she sets her mind to it. Mo is one of the most dependable people in town. We met when we were both in our early teens. She had just moved to the area from Texas and I had just moved in with Aunt Aubrey and Uncle Gabe after my parents’ death. Her mom bought the house next to my aunt’s, and since we were both having a difficult time settling in, we begrudgingly became friends. And somewhere along the way, it became real.

Aubrey and Gabe had been together since I was young, I think I was around two.

Aubrey likes to joke that her job is to keep an eye on the town her husband is the sheriff of—wasthe sheriff of. In reality, she’s the town gossip. Nothing happens in this town without her hearing about it. As the Chief Deputy Sheriff of a small town, Gabe never really did any traveling unless it was with her.

I don’t think she knows how to be on her own. Since his death, she’s been at my house every day and night and when I’m at the cafe, she usually likes to hang out in the lobby talking off anyone’s ear that’ll listen.

As I walk, the tension loosens in my shoulders, “Hey there!”

The sudden shout startles me out of my thoughts. For a split second, I wonder if Selene and her menace have come back—only the voice is deeper, with a bit of an accent I can’t place. Turning on my heel, I see a man jogging up the trail towards me.

He’s tall, with a lean build, dressed in hiking gear that looks well-worn but expensive. His forest green jacket is scuffed at the seams, like it has seen its fair share of trails, and a sturdy pack is thrown over one of his shoulders. A scruffy beard frames his angular face, and his dark, almond-shaped eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes me instinctively straighten.

Predatory.

That’s the word that flashes through my mind. Not in the way an animal is—wild and impulsive— but calculated—like he knows exactly how to move through a space without being noticed. Like he chooses when to be seen.

“Sorry to startle you,” he says, slowing down to a walk as he gets closer. His voice is smooth, and measured, with that same unplaceable accent threading through it. “Name’s Bennett. You wouldn’t happen to know if the trail loops back to town would you?”

I hesitate for just a beat too long. There is a familiarity about him that I can’t quite place. The way he stands, with his shoulders back and hands loosely by his sides–not to mention the way he’s staring into my eyes–seems like he already knows the answer to his question.

“Yeah, it does,” I finally say. His eyes linger on mine before darting to the trail behind me, like he’s expecting someone else to be there.

“Thanks,” he says, giving me a nod. “I’m in the area for work, figured I’d explore it a bit.”

“This is one of our main trails. There are tons of little ones that branch off to make the mainstream longer or shorter, but they all end in the same place—leading back to town. Just follow the signs for the main trail and you’ll find yourself back where you started.”

Bennett adjusts the strap on his pack. “Makes sense,” he says. His eyes drift past me again. “Nice place for a walk. Or to think.” His tone is light and casual, but the way he holds himself puts me on edge.

“Yeah,” I say carefully. “Been coming here for a long time.”

He tilts his head slightly, studying me the way you study a puzzle you’re close to solving. “I figured. You look like someone who belongs here.”

That throws me. I cautiously ask, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bennett shrugs, fidgeting with his pack again. “Just an observation.” He pauses, then smirks, showing a dimple on his left cheek. “You work at that cafe in town, don’t you?”

A sharp, instinctual jolt flares in my chest. My fingers curl slightly at my sides. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

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