“I’m a pretty good climber,” she said. “One of my brothers at Ainihkiwa taught me how.”
“Your brothers?”
“The commune where I grew up. We were all considered children of the Source—or what they’d call the Great Power. We called ourselves Mukki. It’s a Blackfoot name for children.”
“Sierra mentioned a commune . . .”
“It wasn’t a cult—just a community. We had communal ecological living—gardens, livestock, a common kitchen and eating area, and in the winter a lodge we all lived in. There were about forty of us. I was the oldest child for a while, so some of the younger men and women took me along on their activities. My brother Arank taught me to climb.”
He didn’t know why, but he had a sudden stirring of curiosity about this Arank. “You can’t climb with that shoulder.”
She emitted something that sounded like a grunt or a chuckle. In the dim light he saw her shake her head. “Have you learned nothing from dating my sister? You don’t tell the Rose girls what to do.”
“Fine. We’ll see how you feel in the morning.” But really, over his dead body was she climbing up that overhang and hiking out to find help.
That was his job.
“Sierra, Pete, and Jess will figure out we’re lost when we don’t come home tonight.”
“When you don’t come home tonight, maybe. Pete and I don’t keep tabs on each other. Well, rather, Pete doesn’t keep tabs on me. I usually have to trail after him and pick up the debris.”
He didn’t mean it quite how it sounded.
Okay, maybe he did, but hated it a little when she went quiet.
Then, “I’m so sorry about your dad, Sam.”
Huh?
“I saw the fight last night. I know that . . . well, there’s history there.”
“It was a long time ago,” he said. “It’s not about that anymore. It’s about . . .” But really, he couldn’t finish the sentence, not knowing exactly where to start.
It felt like everything arrowed back to that day on the mountain.
Willow shifted, straightened her legs out under the van seat. “I was angry at my sister for a long time too.” She tucked her hands into the fold of her legs, probably for warmth. “After my mom and dad split, Mom took us to Ainihkiwa. I was seven. Everyone in the commune homeschooled, but Sierra got it in her head that she wasn’t going to miss school in Mercy Falls, so Mom let her drive this old station wagon to town. I went with her, every day for four years. Then she graduated.”
On the bench, Vi sighed and Willow leaned up to check on her. But the girl had dozed off, covered in the emergency blanket from his pack. He’d have to take another look at her foot in the morning and put together a splint.
“Sierra moved to Mercy Falls the day after she graduated and never looked back. Since I was only eleven, I couldn’t drive. My life stopped that day. And I hated her for it.”
He had heard the rest, only a different version. “Sierra thought your mom didn’t want you to go to school—”
“She didn’t, but she would have let me if it didn’t inconvenience her. Mom is . . . a free spirit. She doesn’t believe in attachments or responsibility.”
“Sounds like Pete.”
“Oh no, Pete is nothing like my mom. Pete shows up, even if it’s late. He’s been at the house helping Jess nearly every day this summer. I know he messed up last night, but that wasn’t Pete. Or at least the one we know. The fact that he’s back at Jess’s says that he might have shown up with an apology.”
“Pete doesn’t apologize. Ever.”
“Sam. Pete is a good guy—a little bit of a Casanova, yeah, but really, the guy is adorable. And is it his fault that he only has to smile at the right girl and she’ll fall into his arms?”
What was it about her that always found the best in someone?
“But he’d leave his date in a blinding second if there was a callout.” Willow touched him, and the heat of her touch traveled up his arm. “If anyone can find us, Pete can.”
Sam couldn’t place why her words sat like barbed wire under his skin. Nor why he felt the need to add, “He won’t have to. I’ll get us out of here.”
Her silence needled him until, “I’m sure you will.” Her voice was soft, so much confidence in it he probably didn’t deserve it. “Because if I were lost, you’re the one I’d want trying to find me.”
He stilled, and her words landed in tender, surprisingly unprotected places. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded,” he said. “It’s just—”