Seth

"So…" Katie says slowly, "what exactly are we supposed to tell Charlie?"

Her question is valid. We're standing outside the tent, having just woken up. And it's sort of… shredded.

Last night, when Katie and I were moving together, finally reunited in the most intimate of ways, I couldn't help it.

It was the strangest sensation. I'd been almost blurring between human and wolf form. I've never felt so much. Everything. So much love and lust and contentment. Protectiveness, possessiveness, excitement, all of it.

I felt a hint of it on our wedding night, but being in nature like this, having my relationship with Katie stripped to the barest of bones, left me feeling raw and hungry in a way I'd never experienced until last night.

Hence the tent being ripped to shreds.

"Bear attack?" I offer half-heartedly.

Katie continues organizing her backpack. "Charlie's not going to buy that. He knows you could handle a bear." She pauses, her lips twitching. "What about the truth?"

We share a look, and simultaneously burst into laughter.

"Could you—imagine his—face?" I wheeze through my gasps for air.

Katie doubles over onto herself, clutching her stomach. "He'd turn purple!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Kenny yells from inside his tent.

This, too, is probably funnier than it should be, and it sets us off again.

Across the clearing, the others – Kenny was the only one still sleeping – join in our laughter. Joey starts shaking Kenny's tent, goading him, and he tumbles out cursing and swinging.

Beside me, Katie sighs contentedly. "I love it here."

I pull her to her feet and steal a kiss. "I love you."

"Come eat breakfast!" Sierra yells to us. "We have to leave soon."

We're finishing up our last meal in this magical place, with these magical people, when Joey nudges Katie in the ribs.

"So you guys are coming back next year, right?"

Next year? Where will Katie and I be this time next year? She'll have just finished college, hopefully starting a job she loves. And I'll be working too, at the lumber yard and with the—

The pack.

I don't know what it says about me that I haven't thought about it once. Sure I have in passing, like when last night Reed threatened to push Joey into the fire and I thought of Paul and Jacob.

Or how Paige reminds me of Emily, with her mannerisms and making sure everyone gets their fill of food.

But as far as actually being a wolf, running as a wolf, feeling powerful and in control… Being here makes me feel all those things, and Katie can feel those things with me. She can't do that when I'm shifted.

Katie kept the promise she made me long ago; she's never asked me to leave. Until recently, I never considered I could make that choice for myself. Leah did it first, which will be annoying at Thanksgiving and Christmas when she holds it over my head. But hasn't she always forged the way for me? Lit the path or whatever.

I look to Katie, the posed question half-forgotten in the wake of my decision. Her eyes are molten chocolate, dancing with joy even as she gives me an arched eyebrow.

I reach between us, clasping our hands together on top of the dirt. "Yeah. We'll be here."

Her responding smile is blinding, takes up all of her tiny face. And I know instantly I made the right choice. I'll be wherever Katie glows, just like this.

We hike out of the basin in our predetermined line, Kenny at the front and Joey at the back like yesterday. The mood is somber, even though the weekend was great. We laughed and ate fresh fish and drank lukewarm beer and talked, and Katie grew and stretched and came alive again.

Our boots touch pavement for the first time in days, and everyone sort of turns to each other, the imminent goodbye hanging in the air like humidity. I reach for Katie's hand instinctively, and she gives me a hard squeeze.

"Right, okay," Paige says, stepping forward to start a round of hugs. It'd probably be more efficient if we did a group hug, but these people are obviously more personal than that. I hug all of them. Hard. And they squeeze Katie too, Kenny doing it so hard her feet come off the ground.

She wheezes through it, laughing until she cries. And then she's really crying.

"No, no, no," Sierra says. "Not now, kid. Happy thoughts only."

Katie swipes at her eyes. "Right. Sorry. I just… Thank you. Thank you all so much. I keep thinking I'm going to run out of room for more family, but I never do. That's just a great feeling."

Sierra just hugs her again, harder this time.

Off to the side, Paige and Joey are talking softly, his hands resting on her shoulders and hers palms pressed lightly to his chest.

Kenny groans. "They do this every year."

To keep myself from eavesdropping, I sigh heavily. "Ready for our hike back, Katie Kat?"

"You guys want a ride?" Reed asks. "To your car or a different trailhead or something."

Katie pulls her gaze from Joey and Paige, her cheeks pink. "We do need a new tent."

Reed laughs. "We haven't shredded a tent in years."

I follow behind him, and with one last look back and a final wave, Katie lets out a slow exhale, and falls in step.

Reed and Sierra have an old Jeep Wrangler, and they take a minute to pull the doors and top off. After our packs are loaded, I hoist Katie up (no runners), and we settle into the backseat. I give Reed the name of the trailhead where we parked our rental, and after Sierra locates it on her map, we set off.

The wind whips at Katie's hair, and she pulls off her ball cap, giving her head a shake. The wind blows everything directly into my face. Her hair and her scent.

It's dizzying and intoxicating, and I can't wait to be alone with her again. I don't think we're out of hot water yet with being intimate. But it's at least cooled off a little.

"So you have a year of school left, Katie?" Sierra asks from the passenger seat, twisting around to face us. "What's the plan after that?"

Katie shrugs, taking in a lungful of warm California air. "Oh, no idea. I have a job at a newspaper right now, I might try that full-time. The only job that's even close to my dream is working in tourism."

I catch Reed's grimace in the rear-view. "Tourism sounds boring."

Katie gasps. "No, not at all! With tourism, photography especially, it's all about telling the right story, capturing the right moment. Just a taste of what's out there, so it gets the consumers hungry enough that they have to come see it for themselves."

Sierra flips through the radio dial, finding a classic rock station through the static. "If you talk that passionately about tourism, I'd love to hear you talk about your actual dream."

I slide my hand over the bench seat and slot my fingers through Katie's. "She wants to work for National Geographic."

Reed and Sierra share an amused look. "No kidding?" he says.

"What?" I say, but the look Katie and I share is less amused and more confused.

"Nothing," they say at the same time.

"Liars."

Sierra sighs, failing to hide her smile. "It's just…" She lets out a breathless little laugh, an incredulous one. "Joey works for NatGeo," she says slowly.

Katie's heart races forward in her chest, faster than I think her body's capable of. "The Joey we just spent the weekend with."

Reed chuckles, making a turn onto another interior park road. "One and the same. Small world, right?"

"Turn around," Katie says urgently. "I need to talk to him. Or get his number or something."

As a compromise, Sierra passes her phone back to us with a contact screen displayed – Joey Yosemite is a catchy title. It could be a band name or something.

Katie dials immediately, but the call doesn't go through. There's no service here. She tries four more times in rapid succession.

"Katie," I say gently, pulling her phone from her grasp. "Let's wait until we get home, okay?"

When she looks to me, her eyes are shining. I can see what she's thinking. It's so close, her dream. This job's all she's talked about since she switched her major to Photomedia, and now less than a calendar year away from graduation, she's so close she can taste it.

But she purses her lips anyway and stores her phone back in her bag. Her fingers drum against the seat beneath her instead.

So, to recap: Katie has a vague connection to someone in her dream profession, I finally got to sleep with my wife again last night, and we still have two more weeks of each other before the real world comes knocking again.

Yosemite.

Magic.

Our SUV is still there where we left it, only now covered in dust and bird crap. Katie's hands are still restless against her thighs, and when she turns to me, I know the question before she speaks.

So I'm already holding out the keys when she asks, "Can I drive?"

I pull up directions for a sporting goods store, hoping we can find a tent close enough to Charlie's that he won't notice the difference. It will save us an awkward conversation, which is good for everyone involved.

It's an hour and half drive to the store, and we settle into comfortable silence.

Well, almost.

Katie's heart's still racing, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel. I don't press her; I know she's getting ready to say something. Probably beg me to forgo the rest of our plans in favor of chasing Joey to Sacramento. Or maybe flying straight to D.C. to meet him there.

"Seth?"

I turn the radio down and say, "Yeah?"

A tentative smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Is this car something we could afford? After the trip, I mean."

My stomach flips, and I have to swallow down the bubble of hope rapidly expanding there. "Maybe not brand new," I say honestly. "But a nicer used one, sure. Do you… like this car?"

She nods, looking over at me briefly. "I'm high off the ground. I wouldn't have to use that stupid cassette aux cord thing for music." She pauses. "I feel safe."

Katie hadn't hesitated to start driving again after the accident, but only my truck. Leah offered her car, and Katie had flat out declined. Same thing with Sue and Charlie. Being a passenger seemed to be fine, if not preferred. And like I said, my truck is okay. But driving a car is a different story.

I guess an SUV isn't really a car, though.

Now that I think about it, my truck has all those same features she just named. Was that really the key this entire time? A radio from this millennium and distance from the ground? Feeling safe?

"Then it's done," I say simply.

When we show the shredded tent remains to the salesman at the sporting goods store, he looks back and forth between Katie and I with such concern, I think he might call the police. But he shakes his head once, straightens his facial features, and points out several similar options.

We head back to Yosemite, Katie still in the driver's seat. She's not ready to leave such a magical place, and I'm desperate to keep her wherever she's happiest.

Which is how, after a night in a hotel with hot water, a hot wife, and a few hot meals to remind us we're still human, Katie and I find ourselves parking at yet another trailhead, loading up packs and lacing up boots and slathering on sunscreen.

"Half Dome," Katie says, looking at the trail marker. "There it is."

I straighten her ball cap. "Ready?"

"Just you and me," she says, stretching to place a kiss on my cheek.

I turn my head, capturing her lips with mine. They're salty with hints of early morning sweat and vanilla citrus. "Just you and me. Today, tomorrow, always and forever."

"Promise?" she whispers against my lips.

After another quick kiss, I turn to face this latest mountain stretched tall in front of us. I'd say it looks insurmountable, but I should know better by now.

Especially with Katie standing by my side.

"Promise."