Before You Go

chapter forty-five

Leon

I'm blanketed by fog and rain. It's suffocating, putting my nerves on edge. I tug at the collar of my shirt as my lungs strain for air. My heart thumps rapidly, pumping blood through my body, but feeling useless. What's the point of having a beating heart when the person I love isn't here? Although it's fuelling my body, the rest of me feels empty and cold. Hollow.

I wonder if this is how Liz felt that day. The day I lied to her. The day I broke my promise.

I sit on Saint-Sangster rock, the dampness soaking through my shorts. Although it's raining and fog skirts the redwoods, the air is humid, making a sticky sweat breakout across my bare legs and arms. Aside from wet hair and damp clothes, I didn't know what to expect when I arrived. Not at Saint-Sangster rock, but when I knocked at the door with the wedding invitation in hand. I can admit I never thought it would end this way, though. I never expected Liz to give me another chance but be incapable of ending things with James. 

Sighing, I run a hand through my damp hair. If Liz doesn't show up... If I continue to hold on to my threads of hope... Standing up, I pace the length of the rock and recount all my mistakes. The last thing I want to do is leave her again. But if I don't leave, if I continue to hold on, it will hold me back. As much as I love Liz, I have a life I need to continue to nurture. If I could travel back in time and change my actions, I would. There are so many variables I would change. I'd tell Liz about my mom. I'd drive to Whistler, pick her up, and then we'd fly to St. John's to be with my mom. My ego and need to protect Liz at all costs wouldn't have gotten in the way. Our lives would've played out much differently. 

Cool droplets of water streak the back of my neck, and I glance up at the sky. I've always hated the rain. It's nothing but depressing and gloomy. It intensifies my sullen emotions. I kick at a rock. Rain sucks. Life sucks. Love sucks. The inevitable barrier between Liz and I fucking sucks.

Just as I'm about to head for my mountain bike I left at the top of the trail, a branch cracks. I freeze, my eyes scanning the area for another human or an animal. Whistler is one of the most popular hiking destinations in British Columbia. Even on rainy days, seeing a hiker exploring unmarked trails wouldn't surprise me. But I'm also next to a water source in the middle of a forest. Seeing a bear or deer isn't off the table. Basic facts aside, the possibility of having a run-in with a bear concerns me. I'm suddenly wishing I'd brought my bike down here instead of leaving it leaning against a tree at the top of the small incline.

With tension weighing on my shoulders, I continue to observe my surroundings, studying every detail and movement. When I don't hear or see anything, I relax a little. Whatever made that noise must've been going in the opposite direction. However, just as I'm in the process of turning around, I see a flash of blonde hair at the top of the incline.

My breath catches in my throat. Liz rapidly scans the area, stopping when she makes eye contact with me. Even from a distance, I can see her shoulders sink in relief. Her name parts my lips as she slides down the incline with grace. Mud and rocks slides beneath her Converse as she skids to a stop at the bottom. Several emotions fill my chest as we stare at each other. She's supposed to be dressed to the nines, enjoying an Italian meal with her friends and family. She's not supposed to be dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a sweater, muddling her way through rain and mud. Her hair is plastered to her forehead and mud splatters her jeans.