Page 32 of Wild Heart

There was a beat of stunned silence. Then Olivia nodded, and several of the others clapped, the noise quickly swelling with support. But Mason’s eyes were still on Natalie, waiting. She stepped forward slowly, the blanket slipping slightly from her shoulders. Her eyes never left his.

"Then I’ll stay," she said simply. Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with feeling. "And let’s build it together, as partners."

The clapping turned to cheers. Someone tossed another log on the fire. And in the rising heat, Natalie and Mason stood shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

They didn’t kiss. They didn’t need to. The connection was deeper than that. It was a promise.

Later, as the fire burned lower and the volunteers drifted off to cabins and sleeping bags, Natalie and Mason remained at the edge of the flames. Olivia had gone inside, her cane tapping softly against the porch. Davey had taken his guitar and disappeared into the woods.

"You meant it?" Natalie asked, her voice quiet now.

Mason nodded. "Every word."

She reached up and touched his face, her fingers light along his jaw. "I believe you."

He closed his eyes briefly. "I didn’t think I’d find this again. Not after the mistakes I made. But you make me believe in starting over."

Natalie smiled, tears brimming. "Then we’ll start over together."

Above them, a meteor shot across the sky, swift and brilliant and brief. They stood in silence, watching it go. And in that quiet, the future didn’t feel quite so uncertain anymore.

They were no longer just individuals holding on. They were a team. And the bond between them was no longer fragile it was forged. In fire. In hope in shared commitment.

The next morning, light streamed through the tall windows of the lodge, soft and golden with the hush of early spring. The scent of woodsmoke still lingered faintly in the fabric of the common room where the bonfire’s warmth had seeped into the bones of the building. Olivia stood at the kitchen island, organizing event flyers with focused precision. There was a new steadiness in her step, a lightness in her touch. For the first time in weeks, her heart felt full.

She glanced out the window where Mason and Natalie were already walking the grounds, their shoulders brushing, a quiet rhythm forming between them as naturally as breathing. A warmth spread in Olivia’s chest. There was so much pain this place had seen, and so much beauty and a huge secret that was becoming a burden, and she had the feeling that before long she’d have no choice but to share the load. Until that day came, she would focus on the present, and hope that it would be enough for her son, who she knew was struggling with the past.

Davey sat on a rock near the edge of the trees, staring up at the sky. In his lap, he held a folded photograph, one he’d found years ago in a drawer. His mother and a man with brown eyes and a gentle smile, holding a baby. Was that him? He didn’t remember. He wanted to ask. He needed to ask. But not yet. Not today. He folded the photo again and tucked it back into his coat.Someday soon. Standing, he made his way to the lodge and the welcome aroma of coffee.

Minutes later he stepped in from the back door, cheeks flushed from the morning air. He carried two crates of donated trail guides, his steps careful but purposeful.

“You’re early,” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow. “Planning to take over my job today?”

He grinned, setting the boxes down. “Figured I’d get a head start before the volunteers show up.”

She smiled at him, a real smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I like this version of you.”

He shrugged, brushing a twig from his jacket. “Just doing what I can.”

They moved side by side for a while, folding and stacking brochures, clipping signposts together, sorting donation forms. Every now and then Olivia would glance at her him, a flicker of something soft crossing her face. He hoped he was showing her he’d changed and that someday he’d become someone she admired and found dependable.

But what his mom didn’t see, what she couldn’t know, was that the distance that was healing between them was also deepening in a different direction because he knew she was keeping a secret.

Who was his father, really? The man in the photo didn’t look cruel. There was love in the way he held the baby, something wistful in his eyes. But Olivia never spoke of the man in the photo in detail. Only in vague, gentle phrases that left more gaps than they filled.

And now, with the sanctuary fighting for its future and his mother regaining her strength, Davey couldn’t bring himself to ask. So instead, he worked harder. He stood closer, smiled wider, folded one more brochure than needed.

But still, Davey couldn’t quiet the voice in his head. Thatafternoon, when the last volunteer had left and Olivia went to rest in her room, Davey quietly slipped into the office. He closed the door gently behind him and opened the old filing cabinet in the corner. The drawers groaned as he pulled them out, careful not to make too much noise. It wasn’t snooping, he told himself. It was searching. For answers. For something to tether him to a name, a moment, a truth that didn’t vanish with firelight and sentiment.

He flipped through old employee records, financial statements, sanctuary permits. Then, tucked in the back of a thick folder labeled “Private,” he found a bundle of documents clipped together. Among them was a faded envelope addressed in a hand he didn’t recognize.

He opened it slowly. Inside was a letter. Dated twenty years ago. Short. Formal. Apologetic.

Olivia,

I’m sorry. I tried but I can’t stay. This place is everything to you, but it’s not for me. I don’t fit in here. I don’t know how to be a father. I don’t know how to be the man you both need. I wish I was.

Please forgive me and be happy, both of you.

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