Page 95 of 15 Summers Later

Though she wasn’t particularly hungry and was keeping her fingers crossed that her morning sickness didn’t make an untimely return, Ava suggested the River’s Edge, a new brew pub on the outskirts of town she had heard people raving about.

The place was crowded, but they were seated out on the wide, shady balcony overlooking Emerald Creek and the mountains beyond. As they ordered their food and waited for it to be delivered, he sampled some of the brewery’s award-winning ale while she had a fresh huckleberry lemonade that was one of the best beverages she’d ever tried.

Somehow, without really trying, they slipped back into their usual comfortable conversations about everything under the sun, from the books he read at night in his tent or under the stars to the shows Leona had persuaded Ava to watch with her.

He seemed fascinated by her volunteer work at the animal rescue and wanted to know all about it. In turn, he told her stories about the dig and what they had found so far and the strong, sometimes combative personalities working there.

He asked her about her doctor’s appointment, and while they didn’t talk directly about a future together, they seemed easier together than they had in weeks.

Throughout the meal, she noticed a guy with the tan of one of the river guides who took anglers and river rafters onto the local waters. He seemed to be staring at them, though she told herself she was mistaken.

She mostly picked at her salad, but Cullen truly enjoyed his wood-fired pizza featuring smoky red onions, pistachios and freshly made pesto. He was finishing off the last piece when the river guide stopped at their table, giving Ava a searching look.

“I’m really sorry to bother you. I hope this doesn’t seem too weird, but would you happen to be Ava Howell Brooks?”

She set down her fork, her stomach suddenly twisting more with nerves than morning sickness. Cullen, she saw, had swallowed the last bite of his pizza and was looking at the guy with wary surprise.

“Um. Yes,” she finally answered.

“I thought so. I recognized you from the picture on the book jacket. I met your sister earlier this summer at the Burning Tree tavern. Madison, right?”

“That’s right.”

“You should have heard me raving to her aboutGhost Lake. It’s the best book I’ve read in a long time. I’ve read it twice already.”

She blinked. “Twice? Really?”

“Yeah. I was thinking about getting the audiobook on my library app but there’s like a forty-two-week waiting list. Did you narrate it yourself?”

Cullen, she saw, had tensed, a small muscle flexing in his jaw.

“No,” she said. “I left that to a voice actor. She’s wonderful.”

“Well, your writing really moves me.”

She never knew what to say when people praised her work. “Thank you,” she finally managed, feeling awkward and self-conscious.

“I mean, I can’t relate at all to what you went through with your sister, being held prisoner and all, and having to fight your way through the wilderness to survive.”

Not surprising. How many people could?

“But I did grow up in a house where my father drank too much and abused drugs. He didn’t always treat our mom or me and my sister the greatest. He took off when I was thirteen.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The way you’re still trying to come to peace with the choices your dad made, I could completely relate to that. Lately my dad has been trying to come back into our lives, saying how sorry he is and that he’s changed. While my sister has let him, I’ve kept that door closed and locked tight. But your raw grief about losing your dad, despite everything he had done, really hit me hard. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

She glanced at Cullen and saw he appeared struck by the man’s words.

Her husband had lost his father to cancer when he was young, she knew. One of his best childhood memories had been going with his father in the last weeks of his life to a dinosaur museum.

He had described it to her in vivid detail. The hard parts, from pushing his dad in a wheelchair after he became too tired to walk to helping him empty his Foley catheter bag in the urinal after it became too full. And the joy they experienced watching paleontologists behind glass as they cleaned off fossils with painstaking care.

He had told her everything, until she felt as if she had lived that day along with him.

And in return, she had completely glossed over all that had made her the woman she was today.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said quietly to the river guide, though her words were for the man she loved as well.

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