I was on top of the world. Standing on this giant, felled redwood, the sprawling forest all around me. Mist clung to the branches and to my skin in a gentle caress. There was bird song, the scent of dead leaves. And nothing to distract me. Not my phone, not the television, not music or art or work.

Just… this. My heart beating. The light layer of sweat beneath my clothing. I balanced, one foot in front of the other, and walked down the log, imagining it when it was alive, soaring into the clouds.

The hush of the forest was tangible. No sounds of traffic, no airplanes. For a moment, just like Gabe said, a rush of thoughts crowded my mind. Is it okay that I’m having fun with Gabe? Is it okay that I want to kiss him? When are the roads going to be cleared? What will happen when I leave? Will I ever meet someone like him again?

And then, like a burst of static in a silent room, I heard Clarke’s voice.

Do you think you can take that job?

Do you really think that’s a good idea?

What if you’re not able to do that justice?

Clarke had a habit of endlessly underestimating me until I was able to do it on my own. Count myself out. It was the kind of subtle manipulation that started off as a mild irritant, almost unnoticeable. Before Clarke, I didn’t give a fuck if other people thought I couldn’t do something. But he started to say it so much that I came to believe it.

Until I didn’t even have to ask his opinion anymore. I just stopped doing things.

Yet here I was, climbing on a fucking redwood tree, and I wasn’t even afraid of falling.

The thoughts swirled together like a maelstrom. So I eliminated one of my senses and shut my eyes.

This forest wasn’t capable of caring about my thoughts. This forest only knew how to do one thing: thrive. In all kinds of conditions and against all odds. It just… consumed nutrients and oxygen. Bathed in the sunlight. Let the rain streak down its sides. Rooted itself.

I was starting to understand.

“You like it up there?” Gabe called up to me, and I nodded, glancing down at him. My Viking was cute in his natural environment, leaning against a smaller tree like he was a second away from tearing it down with his bare hands.

“I love it,” I said. “I can see why you love it here. In Big Sur. I know I can be kind of a Los Angeles snob, but… this place has a certain magic to it, doesn’t it?”

I sat, dangling my legs off the side. Gabe reached up to help. His hands clamped around my upper thighs, then my hips, then my waist as I slid down the log. Slid down his big, hard body although his hands stayed respectful.

“You’ll never leave this place,” I said, voice thick.

Gabe was looking down at me, and for a moment, I thought he might glide those hands up, under my countless layers, along my ribcage.

Instead he let go.

“Never,” he said.

There you have it.

“I understand,” I said.

He gave me a sad smile before turning back toward the trail. “Shall we, bad-ass? I mean, maybe you should lead the way.” The humor was back in his voice.

I grinned back, grateful for the abatement: from his body, his heat, the gorgeous way his eyes crinkled at the sides.

“No way,” I said, stepping back into place along the trail. “I’ll always be a city girl at heart, which means my ability to lead us in a direction where we don’t die—”

“—or get eaten by bears,” Gabe said.

“True. Or get eaten—by anything—isn’t something you should place much confidence in. But I can see why your childhood here was something you still hold so much respect for. This,” I said, waving my hand around me, “is like living in a magical tree house but all the time. So much room for imagination and playfulness.”

“It never leaves either. Even though I own a grungy dive bar with almost no windows, the feel of this place is always there. Always making itself known. Probably because the feel of the place is in the people, too.”

“I love a good grungy bar though,” I said, nudging his shoulder. “You know The Bar has a certain charm.”

Gabe flashed a wry grin. “I love that place.”

I laughed. “I know you do. You make it very obvious.”

We paused for a moment to climb a steeper hill, and I realized I didn’t feel nervous or weird about the fact that Gabe was witnessing me makeup-less, in workout clothes, as I huffed my way up hills, sweating and probably red-faced. Because I liked what we were doing, liked that he was showing me something that he loved—his tree house escape from the world.

I’d kept myself meticulous for Clarke, even when I wanted to just hang out in sweatpants. Meticulous, pretty, and always made-up.

“My favorite viewpoint is just up here,” Gabe said. “Maybe another mile. Are you down for it?”

“Let’s do it,” I said. My body was relaxing into a mindless, comforting rhythm.

We were pleasantly quiet for a few minutes until Gabe cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Can I ask you a kind of intense question?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“That first night we met, you told me you didn’t believe in love. For yourself, although you believed it could happen for others.”

“That’s true. I do believe that,” I said.

“Why? Did something happen that destroyed your ability to believe in love?”

Destroyed. That was a good word for it. Lies and half-truths swarmed on my tongue, but I surprised myself by being honest.

“I was engaged,” I said and watched a visible reaction shudder through him. He turned his big body towards me, eyes wide with sympathy. “And I don’t really like to talk about it. But it happened. And I’m not engaged anymore so…” I trailed off.

Butterflies flittered through my stomach, my body on high alert. I hated talking about this, only because the emotions and feelings I’d worked so hard to process would rear up so quickly, affect me as viscerally as they had on the morning of the wedding.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said as we reached the view point. Gabe turned to face me, emotions roiling in his expression. “And I’m really fucking sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s… it’s okay,” I said, distracted by his masculine scent. “It was two years ago. I’ve moved on. But it’s the reason I don’t do relationships. Or any kind of… intensity.”

A stunning view opened up in front of us. A rich layer of dark forest and then the wide blue expanse of the ocean. It stretched on and on, so vast and so far-reaching, I had the oddest sensation that it must never end. Like ancient explorers, so sure their ships were going to pitch off the edges of the Earth. My throat tightened as I took it all in.

“I wish I had had a place like this. Back when… it all happened. The engagement.”

Everything was roaring up again. Lucia, eyes red and face pale as a ghost, standing in the doorway. He’s not coming, she’d said. So simple, those three words. Like we were meeting for a coffee and he’d gotten stuck in traffic. He’s not coming.

“I’ve had my fair share of revelations at this spot. Sometimes it just makes me sadder. It’s the vastness of the ocean, how small it makes me feel.” He laughed softly. “And not many things make me feel small. But sometimes I’ll hike up here, feeling lonely, and the ocean will make me feel lonelier.” I looked at his strong profile; his full beard. That golden hair. “Other times it’s my powerful reminder to keep on going. I mean, if this much beauty can exist in the world, how can I not be motivated to keep going? I know The Bar is just, well, a bar but it’s really important to me. The legacy. Its role in the community.”

“And I know what I do is just… makeup. Buying into all kinds of standards of beauty and product consumption. But—I just love it. It’s simple but—”

“I understand,” Gabe said. “You can’t help what you love.”

We stood in silence for a long time, and when Gabe finally suggested we head back, I had to hide my face, covertly wiping away tears.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course,” he said, pulling the pack on and settling it across his broad back.

“Why do you believe in love so fiercely?” I asked.

“I guess… well, it’s been modeled to me my entire life. Between my parents’ relationship and my siblings’ relationships, I’m just surrounded by people who have received this great privilege of falling in love. Of finding your soulmate, the person you’re meant to be with.”

My heart spun and twisted. You’d never know it from looking at him: this fierce Viking bartender was pining for The One.

“Makes sense,” I said. “Our experiences were just different. You’ve had the beauty and happiness of love shown to you your entire life. I had the opposite, with my engagement. We view love in the same way; we’re just coming from different experiences.”

Gabe nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. A drop of rain landed on the tip of my nose. “I wish that hadn’t happened to you, Josie. I wish…” he trailed off. He was hiking faster now, but out of passion or fear for the rain I didn’t know. “I just wish things were different.”

And he didn’t have to say more than that.

I knew what he meant.