I’ll miss this view. There’s nowhere else like it.
With a sigh, I turn up the path, feeling the ache in my knee, and decide to test how far I can go before it gives out.
The coastal path isn’t much, just a rut made by boots and, judging by the droppings, the island’s population of rabbits and deer. The earth is spongy in some places and so dry in others that dust coats the bottom of my jeans.
I pick my way along, letting the cane do more work than I’d prefer.
The quiet out here is different from anywhere I’ve ever lived. In Mosswood, even at dawn, the sound of the city intrudes. On Misty Pines, it’s only birdsong and the hush of water over rocks. It’s so peaceful I almost forget my unhappiness.
I remember reading somewhere that peoplewho go off the grid don’t disappear. They just find new ways to hide in plain sight.
Is that what I’m doing here? Am I using my rehab as an excuse to avoid starting over?
A flash of movement breaks my train of thought. Up ahead, past the first bend, someone sits on a fallen log, back to me. A hard-sided lunch cooler rests open at her feet. She tears into a sandwich with both hands, no hesitation, her attention on the water as if waiting for something to emerge from the waves.
I recognize her from the build site. She was there the day I watched the crew haul in the pallets of kitchen cabinets, barking orders at a team of sweaty crewmembers. She carried herself like someone who’d never second-guessed a decision in her life, her work shirt rolled to the elbows to reveal a patchwork of scars and old burns.
She doesn’t strike me as the type to want company, so I start to turn around. But my knee throbs, and it will hurt more to backtrack, so I settle for sneaking past.
No such luck.
Her head lifts, sandwich poised midair. “Afternoon.”
“G-good afternoon,” I manage, tripping over the “g” despite my best effort.
When she goes back to her sandwich, relief sweeps through me, and I keep walking. My cane sinks into a soft patch of dirt, and I curse myself for not watching the ground.
Then, as I step past, my foot snags on a root. I lurch forward, the world tilting, and brace for the pain of landing.
It never comes.
A hand clamps around my forearm, and I’m hauled upright before I can catch a breath. The air whooshes out of my chest, and suddenly I’m staring at the woman from the log.
Staringup, since she’s taller than me by an inch, maybe two. She’s stronger, too, based on the ease with which she caught me. I’ve never met a woman who outmatched me in either, and the realization knocks me as off balance as the fall itself.
“You okay?” she asks, her hand moving from my arm to my elbow to steady me.
“S-sorry.” My brain rushes to fill the silence. “I w-wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Her palm settles over the hand gripping my cane, ensuring that I’ve got a solid hold. “Next stretch is all roots. If you want to get through in one piece, hug the left side.”
I can’t stop staring at the size of her hand compared to my arm. It’s not that I’m small. I’msix-one, with the frame of someone who played soccer until university. But next to her, I feel… delicate? No, that’s not it. Lightweight, maybe? Like she’s made of steel, and I’m tinfoil.
A strangled sound escapes me that’s supposed to be “thanks,” but catches in my throat.
Eyes the same color as the driftwood stacked along the shore study me. “You’re Chloe’s friend, yeah?”
I blink up at her. “How did you…”
“Seen you around the island.” Her hand, still on mine, gives a little squeeze before she releases me, and I feel less stable without her touch. “I’m Emily. I’m the superintendent for the resort project.”
She sticks out her hand, the same one that just saved me from a face full of moss.
I shake it, feeling her calluses scrape my palm. “Grady.” My tongue stumbles, the “d” catching, but she doesn’t react.
She lets go and sits back down on the log, sandwich balanced on her knee. “Take a break, if you want. Path is muddy up ahead.”
I limp over to lower myself onto the far end of the log. The cane goes across my lap, and I work my fingers over the handle to get the blood flowing again.