Mountaintop had once given him his second wind. It was the job he fell back on when competitive archery was no longer an option. It allowed him the space and time to heal physically and mentally from his injury. He owed it a lot.
But are you happy?
“No” was the resounding call from deep within. Mountaintop no longer provided solace. Because in his wildest dreams, he’d be doing high performance coaching. In his wildest dreams, he’d be traveling and seeing the world.
In his wildest dreams, he’d be with Raven.
A puzzle piece Silas had overlooked slid into place, and a sudden surge of energy had him moving urgently through his morning routine. His thoughts were similarly racing as he began constructing an audacious plan.
Executing the first part of his idea saw Silas driving to Halo’s house. He had no idea how she would react, but with enthusiasm as his compass, he rang her doorbell.
When she answered, she was only partly ready for work, but he asked her, “Do you have a dollar?”
ChapterTwenty-Five
For hours Silasdrove on the highway with only asphalt, trees, and anticipation for company. Mountains flattened out and roads got busy as he entered the city. His GPS had been silent for most of the journey but was now active, leading him down roads into squeezed neighborhoods with identical, nondescript houses.
He eventually arrived at his destination, a duplex that looked as bland as everything around. But it was the address Raven had left them, so it was exactly where he wanted to be.
He was going after her with no sense if she would be happy to see him, but if anyone would appreciate a shot in the dark, a leap of faith, it was Raven.
After ringing the doorbell, he triple-checked to see if he had pit stains, and as the door opened, he took a breath, ready to see the woman who’d been consuming his thoughts. However, on the other side of the threshold stood a short man with a shiny head and glasses.
“Can I help you?” the man asked.
Silas shook his head. “Sorry, I think I have the wrong house—”
“Who is it, honey?” A woman’s voice called from inside the home, and when she appeared at the door beside the short man, Silas froze mid-step.
The woman was the spitting image of his Raven, but older. Her mother?
“Wrong home,” the bald man said.
“Actually,” Silas said, hope rising again, “I’m looking for Raven. I’d like to speak with her.”
The older woman gave him a once-over. “She’s not here at the moment, but I can tell her you dropped by.”
Silas felt flattened but said, “Sure, let her know Silas stopped by and that I’m—”
“Silas?” the older woman said, straightening. She gave him another full assessment. “You’re Silas?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, shifting from one foot to the other.
“My daughter isn’t expecting you. Why are you here?” she asked, her expression now steely. Tentative.
Silas thought of the different ways he could explain himself but landed on expressing the simple truth. “I’m in love with your daughter.”
Raven’s mom searched his face. “And you came all this way to tell her that?”
Butterflies crowded his stomach as he said, “Yes.”
“Calling or texting would’ve been easier,” she said.
“Yeah, it would have,” he replied, “but I needed to see her. To tell her face to face.”
A soft smile appeared on the woman’s lips. “She’s at the Casablanca flea market. She’ll be there for a while.”
Silas quickly returned to his truck, punched the location name into his GPS, and followed its commands for thirty-two kilometers to a congested parking area.
