Page 127 of Seale the Deal

I narrow my eyes at him.

Brandt grins and claps me on the shoulder. Come on, Detective Seale. Your fiancée is getting away.

My attention wanders to Wrenley. Watching her walk ahead, I suppose Brandt has a point. Sometimes lives intertwine in ways you don’t expect. When I look back, he’s already heading after the others.

Smartass.

We fall into step behind the women. Remi’s ponytail is swinging back and forth as she talks, her hands moving as much as her mouth. Wrenley laughs at something she’s said, and the sound drifts back through the trees, light and melodic and impossible not to smile at.

While the girls chatter happily ahead of us, Brandt and I are walking in complete silence. We’ve spent enough time together that neither of us feels the need to fill every quiet moment. We’ve hunted together, camped together, and spent days in the bush sharing little more than a grunt or observation about the weather and notes on animal sign.

Brandt walks over to a tree marked with long claw scratches.

Fresh? I ask, my gaze automatically moving to the women ahead of us.

Remi can hold her own in the woods. Growing up here, with parents like ours who practically raised us in the bush, there’s no other choice than to be capable in wildlife situations. Wrenley, on the other hand, had a hard time with bats. The last thing I want is for her to panic in a situation that requires calm. I don’t want to think what might happen.

Brandt runs his fingers over the grooves. Not fresh, fresh. The wood’s still pretty light underneath, but the edges are starting to weather.

That means a bear’s been through here recently. It’s not enough to make me worried that we’re about to round a corner and bump into it, but I’m definitely more aware of our surroundings.

Bears are a part of life up here. Most of the time, they want nothing to do with people, and in my line of work, it’s people’s actions that are more worrisome than the bears themselves. Lately, though, every potential danger comes with Wrenley’s face attached to it. It’s unsettling, and all I want is for her to be safe. I’ll do anything to make sure of that.

Brandt comes back onto the trail, and as we continue climbing, both of us spend a little more time scanning the brush and listening to the woods around us.

How are things going? Brandt asks after a few moments of quiet. With the wedding coming up. Cold feet or anything?

Cold feet? Maybe. Just not about the wedding itself. The thought of marrying Wrenley doesn’t make me want to run for the hills. What keeps me up at night is the possibility that one day, this will be over.

Not really, I say.

Brandt grunts beside me as we step over a tangle of roots crossing the trail.

Ahead of us, Remi and Wrenley have disappeared around a bend in the trail, though their voices still carry through the trees. It relaxes me further that they’re loud enough to likely keep any nearby bear moving in the opposite direction.

Never thought I’d see the day, he says.

I look over at him. What day?

The day you willingly got married.

I let out a small laugh. Like it’s bizarre for a man in his mid-thirties to decide to get married.

Brandt is quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the trail ahead of us. I expect some smartass comment back about how he’d rather wrestle whatever bear left those claw marks than get married. But when I look at him, I see a sort of conflicted sadness in his eyes.

You okay, man?

Yeah, he says, seeming to shake himself free from whatever thought had hold of him.

I’ve known Brandt long enough to know that anytime the subject of marriage comes up, he starts to think about his family expectations. It seems every summer he’s here, it weighs on him a little more. Usually, I let it go, but after the look I just saw on his face, combined with my sister getting out of his car, I have a lot of questions.

When do you head back to Montana? I ask, deciding an easier question is less likely to send him running for the hills.

November, he answers, adjusting his cowboy hat. Haven’t booked the flight yet, but my dad is already itching for me to be back.

I nod.

Your dad still trying to set you up?