Page 143 of From Air

Will gives me a quick sidelong glance with a melancholy smile and a tiny nod. “It hasn’t been easy. He distanced himself from everyone. I think I saw him on less than five different occasions all winter. He spent most of his time down south. And he hasn’t let me rent out the shed, so the dumb motherfucker’s paying double rent.”

My heart jolts, but I try to hide my physical reaction. Instead, I clear my throat, and with a weak attempt, I try to laugh it off. “That makes no sense.”

“Maren thinks what happened with you is Fitz’s new trauma, his new excuse to be an asshole and reject all opportunities to have a normal life. He’s stopped going to Gary and Evette’s parties. No dating. Just nonstop work. Well, he still visits his grandma over the holidays.”

I manage a slow nod. Everything inside my chest aches. I did this.

“Where are you working now?”

My gaze remains affixed to the view out the window.

“Jamie?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

Will chuckles. “Where’d you go? I asked where you’re working now?”

“Oh, I’m between jobs. After San Bernardino, I took a position in Denver for a maternity leave, then I had a short stint in Bismarck. Butfor the past month, I’ve been hiking. Spending some much-needed time in nature.”

“Really? Where?”

With a nervous laugh, I slowly shake my head. “I’m afraid to say.”

“Why?” He stops at the light and glances at me.

“I’m hiking the area where my mother—my biological mother—died. Where Fitz’s family died,” I whisper.

Will’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

My nose wrinkles. “I know. It sounds weird. My father’s been diagnosed with colon cancer. Most days, I don’t think he understands or acknowledges his diagnosis, even with his parents visiting when they can and trying to explain things to him. He’s just not comprehending it. And maybe that’s a blessing for him. Anyway, he asked me to find my mother and tell her how sorry he is.”

Ever so slowly, Will returns his gaze to the road and follows the car in front of us when the light turns green. “So you’re what? Searching for a body?”

“No. He’s not consistently of sound mind. Sometimes he thinks she’s alive, and sometimes he knows she’s dead.” I smile, fiddling with my sand dollar pendant. “But I take pictures of the sunrises and sunsets. I take pictures of the new trees and wildlife and share them with him. I show him life after death. And for me, it’s been a form of closure. I need it. I’ve released so many emotions. And I know when I take my last hike to release his ashes”—I turn away and blink back the tears—“it will be the beginning of something new that I won’t share with my past.” I quickly blot the corners of my eyes and release a tiny but joyous laugh. “I’llfly.”

Will rests his hand on mine and gives it a gentle squeeze.

Then, for the next three hours, we drink wine, dance, laugh, and celebrate love.

“Are you good to drive?” I ask him as he helps me to the Bronco.

“I cut myself off an hour into the night. You’re safe with me.”

I slip off my heels before climbing into the passenger seat. “You’re such a good man, William Landry. You should find yourself a good woman. Maybe a psychiatrist.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nice try, matchmaker, but I’m good.” Before I can continue making my case for Dr. Reichart, he closes my door, and I fall asleep before we get out of the parking lot.

“Hey, do you need me to carry you?” Will gently shakes my arm.

I peel open my eyes and wait for everything to stop spinning. “This isn’t my hotel?”

He unfastens my seat belt. “I’ll take you to your hotel in the morning. Friends don’t leave friends drunk and alone.”

“Drunk is a strong word,” I mumble, sliding out of the seat.

“Whoa!” Will catches me when my feet fail to do their job.

“I’m good.” I right myself. “I can walk.”

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