Page 117 of Lavender Lake
“Some stuff,” I admitted. “Other stuff is still hazy.”
He nodded in understanding.
“I want—can I show you something?” I asked.
“Now?”
I nodded. “It’s important.”
He held out his hand to me and I took it.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Ranch
I parked the side-by-side at the base of a hill and cut the engine. We climbed out and Cas came around the hood of the vehicle to grasp my hand. There was no path where I was taking him. But he was quiet as I led him up the hill. The fading sun kissed green earth, turning everything a whimsical gold.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” I asked, taking in the surroundings and breathing it in deep.
“Gorgeous,” he agreed.
I looked at him. He wasn’t staring at the view.
“Come on.” My throat thickened as I turned in the direction of my favorite place on earth.
The red cedar tree came into view, its trunk thick with age and deep roots. It leaned to the side and I couldn’t believe it hadn’t fallen over yet.
“Mom found this tree one day on a ride,” I explained. “She loved riding. Exploring. It’s funny. I love exploring too, and you’d think I’d enjoy horseback riding, but it never stuck. Hadley, though. She loves it.”
I took a step closer to the tree and placed my hand on the trunk. “The tree’s actually dead. It was dead when she found it, but because it’s so old, it can stand for years. We’re technically not on our land, which is why she never had anyone come tend to it and cut it down. This is national forest.”
Cas came closer to the tree and I watched his eyes scan the bark. I knew he saw it when he stilled, and then placed his palm on the tree.
My mother’s initials and mine were carved inside of a heart.
“She never would’ve carved it on a live tree. She wasn’t about destruction.” I laughed softly. “She wasn’t, yet I am.”
“What have you destroyed, Salem?” His hand dropped from the tree and he placed his hands on my shoulders to turn me to him. “Nature’s a funny thing, you know? Some things can’t grow until other things die.”
He pulled me into his arms and I buried my head against his chest.
“Some trees don’t release their seeds until they burn in a fire,” he said, his lips brushing my head.
Emotions ricocheted through me. My insides rearranged; they burst open and began to make space for something new and beautiful.
My heart had been closed like a metal chest, and yet it suddenly sprang open.
“That day . . . in the shower,” I murmured. “You didn’t make me talk about it. Why?”
“Because if you needed to talk about it, you would have. That wasn’t about me. It was about you. And what you needed.”
“It wasn’t just about my father in the hospital.”
“I know.”
I pulled back, just enough so that I could stare up at him. “I didn’t need to say anything because you just understood.”
“I understand you, Salem.”
