Page 48 of Broken on the Mountain
"Let's go get lost," I say, and she squeezes my hand.
"Lead the way."
***
After a short drive, we pile out of my truck, and soon the trail unfolds like a love letter to everything I've come to treasure about Stone River Mountain.
Pine-shadowed trails where the low sunlight breaks through the overhead canopies, a narrow footbridge over a creek that tumbles over smooth stones, and finally a sun-dappled ridge where the sky stretches so blue and endless it feels like I'm bragging about spending every day of my damn life here.
Piper walks beside me, her new boots thudding confidently against the packed earth. She's got that focused expression she gets when she's fully present, not thinking about Chicago, or her mother.
She's just here. Just living in this moment with me.
I hand her the thermos at the first switchback, and she drinks with her eyes closed, savoring the rest stop.
"This is perfect," she murmurs, slightly out of breath.
"The coffee or the view?"
"Both." She passes it back, grinning. "Though I'm reserving final judgment until I see these lemon cookies you promised."
We crest the ridge, and I pull out an apple, tossing it to her. She catches it one-handed and takes a bite.
"Well? What do you think?" I gesture at the panorama stretching before us… valley, peaks, everything.
"I think you're showing off." She takes another bite of apple, eyes dancing. "Bringing me to the prettiest spot on the planet just to prove a point."
"And what point would that be?"
"That I should quit my job and move here immediately."
I laugh, but something in her expression shifts. The playfulness fades, replaced by something quieter. More vulnerable.
She stares down at her boots. Then her gaze travels up to her jeans, my oversized hoodie, the flannel that's now tied around her waist.
She shakes her head slowly, looking like she's on the verge of tears. It breaks my damn heart.
"What?"
"I dunno. Just being here, in the middle of all this. It makes me think."
"Is that a bad thing?"
She shrugs. "I don't know."
"Well, why don't you tell me?"
"This week was just… a lot," she says, voice light but carrying an edge I recognize. "Chicago is always… a lot, and I don't know if it's anything to do with—" She stops, then looks up at me, blinking.
"To do with me?"
"Yes… No…" She shrugs with floppy arms, nearly sending the apple flying down the cliff. "I don't know, Chase."
I keep my tone easy, non-threatening. "Tell me more about your week. Maybe that will help."
She takes another bite, chewing slowly like she's deciding how much to share. Then she shrugs, and it all spills out.
"Well, let's see. I scrubbed in for a tricky case and nailed it, but got yelled at by the head doctor anyway because apparently perfection isn't good enough when you're also supposed to read minds." She rolls her eyes. "I ate a dessert so tiny I had to zoom to see it at some charity thing Mother insisted I attend on hervery latecommand. Um, what else… Oh yeah. I sent you a photo of me in that dress and almost got you fired."
