“Ready to begin our next grand escapade?” Logan Wells locked the house door for the last time and turned away to look to the future.

In the weak dawn light, he watched his ten-year-old daughter, Harper, stuff her string bag of essentials into the corner between her seat in the front of the SUV and the armrest, completing the comfortable nest she’d created for herself. She flashed him a goofy grin and two thumbs-up.

The console held their stash of mixed nuts, granola, and other, less-healthy snacks. Two bottles of water—one tainted with grape flavoring and one straight up—filled the cup holders. The charging cord for his phone lay prepared for the inevitable, but it was his daughter’s reaction, her spunk and thirst for adventure, that gave him the courage to start the ignition.

He wasn’t sure what he would have done if Harper was wary of the move from Denver to the small Wyoming town of Cobble Creek, but she was way more excited than even he felt. Which meant he’d done a good job selling it. To her, at least.

“How long is the drive again, Dad?” Harper’s long, dark hair with its whisper of waves reminded him so much of her mother.

Logan’s chest tightened, as it did just about every day when reality struck. He could only take so much that reminded him of Christina without overloading with grief that should have ebbed long ago. Even after four long years, every attempt he’d taken to move on was hobbled by a reminder of their time together. Hence why it was time for something drastic. Not to forget Christina—because Logan never would—but to start living again.

Relief from the memories came when he looked into Harper’s dark blue eyes that were like looking in the mirror and focused him on the here and now. He could do this.

Logan handed Harper his phone. “You figure it out, navigator.” This would be their greatest adventure so far—geocaching on a grand scale—where they moved all of their earthly possessions to the new pin on the map.

As he walked around the back of the SUV, Logan tugged on the hitch and chains to make sure they were secure and double-checked that the door to the rented trailer remained closed and padlocked. Logan had sold the house furnished to begin a new life. There were some memories he didn’t want to take with him.

The plan was to move into a bed and breakfast while he made sure his optometry clinic was up and running smoothly, and then find a place of their own. Somehow, moving to a new state with only a few of their favorite things like bicycles, winter gear, and a crate of books and family photo albums made him feel that much freer. Things weren’t important to him, and over the past few months, the word simplify had become his mantra.

Cobble Creek was the new start he needed. Logan climbed into the driver’s seat and smiled at Harper with relief. “We’re locked; let’s roll.”

She rewarded him with an exaggerated eye roll, and he chuckled, the constriction in his chest lessening. He was headed for the western Wyoming of his childhood summers. A place where a kid could be carefree among the untamed mountains and open spaces, yet also a place where the people drew you into their community with warmth and friendship. He just hoped it would live up to his memories.

“The GPS says eight hours and twenty-seven minutes.” Harper put the phone to sleep. “I don’t think we’ve gone on a hunt this far before.” She yawned and snuggled her pillow into the window, something else that reminded him of Christina. She never could stay awake during long car rides. “Wake me when we get somewhere interesting.”

“How am I going to find it if my helmsman nods off and leaves me alone?”

“You’ve got Siri to keep you company.” Harper shook her head sadly at her father. “I don’t think you can get lost. It’s not like you’re looking for a nano, Dad; it’s a hotel or B&D or whatever—”

“B&B. It’s short for bed and breakfast,” he supplied in a tone that suggested she should continue.

“You can’t expect me to watch the GPS for eight hours. That’s like … forever.”

He supposed, to a ten-year-old, it probably was.

Watching the miles tick by slowly beneath his tires, it could feel that way to him as well, if he allowed it. He’d never felt so lonely as he did stuffed into a packed SUV with only a sleeping child and a snarky smartphone persona. But as the dregs of Denver and its multitudinous suburbs weighted his rearview mirror, Logan felt freer the farther he drove—like a kite slowly climbing into the atmosphere.

Relief trickled in. Relief from dealing with his previous business partner who’d made it easy to walk away, relief from managing his in-laws who made each day uncomfortable for him, and relief from the memories chained in grief that held happiness and contentment hostage.

Logan wasn’t running away from his problems. Of that, he was certain. No, he was running to. Running to possibilities, to opportunities for him and his daughter. What he was seeking was his very own time machine. Time travel that could bring back happiness. Nothing could bring back his wife, but maybe, just maybe, he could locate a sliver of his childhood innocence to bestow upon his daughter—the best gift he could give her.