Page 40 of Saving Drew
Multiple artistic mediums
Flexible scheduling for different comfort levels
Partnership with VA
Focus on strength through rebuilding
The ideas flowed faster now, grounded in real needs rather than abstract theory. I thought about Mike's strong lines capturing the lake's depths and how art could speak truths that words sometimes couldn't reach.
Below me, Lake Michigan changed colors with the rising sun, each shade telling its own story. I understood why Holden took three photos every morning—some things needed to be witnessed from multiple angles before you could see their proper shape.
I took my own path down, thoughts already racing toward the next steps. The trail had given me what I needed—not justinspiration but confirmation. It wasn't just a way to keep Holden close; it was a way to help others find their path back to solid ground.
Sunlight crept through my cabin's windows as I made fresh coffee. I thought about Jenkins, who'd always said the best rescues were where you helped people find their own way home. Maybe he'd been right. Maybe love wasn't about holding on or letting go but about building new paths forward.
The knock on my cabin door came just as I was pinning another set of program notes to my increasingly crowded bulletin board. I recognized Sarah's particular rhythm—three quick taps followed by humming.
"It's open," I called, not bothering to hide the papers scattered across every surface. Sarah had an uncanny ability to see through any attempt at concealment anyway.
She bustled in carrying a basket that steamed in the cool air. The scent hit me immediately—cardamom, vanilla, and something more decadent that made my mouth water.
"Rafe's been conducting experiments." Sarah set the basket on the only clear corner of my kitchen counter. "He says you're his control group because you always tell the truth about baked goods, even when it hurts his feelings."
"I told him once that his lavender scones tasted like soap."
"And he appreciated your honesty." Sarah unwrapped what looked like oversized muffins dusted with something that caught the light. "These are a prototype. He insisted you try them without me saying more."
I eyed the suspicious sparkle. "Is that—"
"Edible platinum dust? Yes. Rafe's going all out." She paused, studying my expression. "Which reminds me. Theo sent a message."
"Theo doesn't send messages." I tried one of the muffins despite my skepticism about edible metals. The flavor explodedon my tongue—rich dark chocolate with hints of espresso and sea salt. Damn Rafe and his culinary genius.
"He does when you're part of his inspiration." Sarah's eyes danced. "Those photos Holden's been taking of you? Theo says they changed how he sees the whole town. Says watching Holden capture you made him understand what it means to really see something you love."
I nearly choked on the muffin. "What?"
"'Tell the ranger,'" Sarah quoted, clearly enjoying herself, "'that being the subject of Holden's lens taught me more about artistic devotion than ten years of painting workshops.' His words, not mine." She picked up a muffin, examining its architecture. "Though I agree. You gave Holden's art something special, Wade. Even if you try to pretend otherwise."
I gestured at the cabin's walls. "I'm just—"
"His muse? Yeah, we've all noticed. He lights up when he talks about capturing your early morning swims."
I shook my head. "I'm not anyone's muse."