The second the bus rumbled to a stop, nerves assailed me.
What if I was doing the wrong thing?
This thing that I was doing seemed right until I got here and actually had to follow through with my plan.
If you could even call it that.
I was the last one off the bus. In fact, I sat there so long, staring out into the twilight sky and darkening street, that the bus driver appeared.
“This is the last stop,” he said, his voice gruff.
I jumped, having not even heard him approach. Pressing my hand to my chest, I blinked up, wide-eyed.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, miss.”
I forced a low laugh. “Oh, no. You didn’t.” It was a stupid thing to say because obviously he had scared me. I went on autopilot, though, just muttering the first polite thing I could think of.
“Sorry for holding you up,” I said and stood, clutching the bag into my chest. I bit into my lower lip and waited for him to step aside.
“Not a problem,” he said and moved.
He called a good night after me as I stepped onto the snowy street.
The bus doors slammed behind me, and he pulled forward before I was even up on the curb. Once there, I stood still, hugging the bag close. Lifting my chin, I stared into the sky that was a deep shade of blue, but not quite dark. Fat, white snowflakes floated from the sky. They reminded me of feathers the way they sort of glided back and forth on their way to the ground.
One hit me in the nose, its icy structure shocking me just a little as it began to melt against my skin. I smiled, the first smile I think I’d known in a long time.
It almost felt wrong, but even so, I couldn’t chastise myself for it. Not tonight. Not after everything.
I might be in trouble, but I’d gotten this far. That was something to be proud of.
Along with the smile, a faint feeling of peace took hold in my chest. It was small and fragile, just like the snowflakes that fell around me, but it was there. And just like those white flakes, it was beautiful.
I was scared, doubting every move I’d made in the last day.
But I was alive.
It was a good place to start.
Someone on the sidewalk skirted around me, narrowly avoiding a collision. Pulling my cheeks from the sky, I glanced around at my surroundings.
The place looked the same.
Same but different.
Was there such a thing?
Maybe it was just me who was different. After everything that happened since I was last here, it was pretty obvious I wouldn’t be looking around with the same eyes.
The town of Caribou, Colorado, was a beautiful place. It seemed rooted in history with its small-town feel and narrow main street filled with shops and lights. Snow fell here more often than it didn’t, and the mountain rose around the town like an intimidating force. The scent of a nearby bakery carried through the wintry air, and my stomach rumbled.
I hadn’t eaten for nearly two days, except for some stale coffee and a pack of crackers. I hadn’t wanted to take the chance of being seen while getting any food anywhere.
The bus ride had been long, and even when it made some stops, I refused to get off. My life literally depended upon it.
Was I safe here?
I wasn’t entirely sure, but it was the only place I could think to run.
I snorted a little thinking like that.
The first and only time I’d been here, I’d run, too. Run away.
I vowed to never return, even to get back the chunk of my heart that had unfortunately stayed behind. Even after all these years, I knew it was still here.
I felt it.
Turning, I glanced past the bundled-up people, the cute little shops and lights. I peered through the falling snow up toward the mountain.
Not far in the distance, a large building stood. Close by were long, white lanes that striped down the mountain, and with those were the chair lifts, lit up, carriages going to and from.
My stomach flipped as I stared up at BearPaw Resort. The place where I first fell in love.
The place where my heart was first broken.