"I have to do one thing first." He made his way inside to the corner shelf near the fireplace and stared at the bottle of Kentucky bourbon. She'd wondered what it was doing there, but she held her tongue when he raised his hand and stroked the long neck and fancy label. He took the bottle into his hands, then, turning, started back outside. Aching or not, if he was ending six years sober, he would do it where he felt most alive, outside on the mountain.

Clutching her shoulders, she followed, unsure how to be with him in this. They slowly crossed the clearing to the creek. He loved the water-they both did-running icy cold and tumbling golden aspen leaves over moss-slick rocks. Its burbling told the tale of long and endless travels, its voice springing from ancient stone that would stand long past their time on earth.

Jonah removed the lid, held the bottle under his nose and breathed the fumes. His throat worked. "I've kept this to remind me I could crash and burn."

He closed his eyes, then drew himself up. She held her breath as he slowly tipped the bottle, sending an amber stream into the frigid creek until nothing remained.

"From now on, I want to remember I can live." He stooped to fill the bottle from the stream, then twisted on the lid. He set the bottle on the ground and took her hands with his creek-chilled fingers. "I want what happens now and tomorrow and every day to fill me, to fill you."

Tears pooled in her eyes. She had no bottle to pour away her past, but she let the water carry it too, down and away in its quest for the sea. She brought her fingers to his jaw and kissed him, then pressed her forehead to his chin, his neck between her hands. She felt his pulse.

The wind came through the pines, bracing, invigorating. They were alive. They were together. They would do this crazy thing. She drew a deep, hungry breath and laughed.

From somewhere in the house came the long and wild song of a coyote.

Acknowledgments.

I can do nothing without the grace and power of the Holy Spirit and the love of G.o.d and of Christ my Savior. I am sh.o.r.ed up by my family and friends and, in this endeavor, by those who pray for, read, and support my writing. Particular thanks to readers Jim, Jessie, Devin, and my mom for feedback and insight, to David Ladd for law-enforcement expertise and longsuffering through multiple revisions, and to the Minturn Police Records and munic.i.p.al court clerk Lisa Osborne. My grat.i.tude to the wonderful WaterBrook crew, especially editors Shannon Marchese and Jessica Barnes, and to Stephen Parolini and others who fine-tuned and improved this work. Special thanks to all who purchase these books and keep me writing.

About the Author.

While homeschooling her four kids, Kristen wrote her first novel. It became one of a five-book historical series. Since then, she has written three more historical novels and eight contemporary romantic and psychological suspense novels including The Still of Night The Still of Night, nominated for the Colorado Book Award, The Tender Vine The Tender Vine, a Christy Award finalist, and Christy Awardwinning Secrets Secrets. She lives in Colorado with her husband Jim and sundry family members and pets.

Other Books by Kristen Heitzmann

The Edge of Recall

Secrets

Unforgotten

Echoes

Freefall

Halos

A Rush of Wings

The Still of Night

Twilight

The Diamond of the Rockies Series

The Rose Legacy

Sweet Boundless

The Tender Vine

The Rocky Mountain Legacy Series

Honor's Pledge

Honor's Price

Honor's Quest

Honor's Disguise

Honor's Reward