“Being brave and smart doesn’t keep her safe. You have no idea what it’s like to be a parent.”

“True, I don’t. But that’s not what this is about. It’s not about Julie either,” he said, his eyes flashing with an anger she’d never seen in him before. “It’s about her father.”

The dart hit home, but Camille refused to flinch. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“Also true, because you refuse to talk about it.”

“He was brave, too,” she said. “And smart. And he got himself killed.”

“And that sucks for you and Julie and for everyone who loved him,” Finn said. “But what happened to him doesn’t mean you have to shut down your life, hoping it won’t happen to someone else.”

“And it nearly did happen yesterday,” she said, feeling a wave of icy fear. “So don’t tell me—”

“How about you tell me. How did he die, Camille? Why don’t you ever talk about it?”

She didn’t think there was any way to make him understand. But he deserved some kind of explanation. She leaned against the car, folding her arms in front of her. “It was a climbing accident. And seeing Julie swinging off a cliff was like watching him die all over again.”

His expression softened. “Ah, Camille. Damn, I . . . why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it was horrible, and I’m trying to keep it in the past and move on,” she said, her voice breaking.

He touched her then, slowly and gently drawing her into his arms. “Oh, baby. I’m sorry. But keeping it buried isn’t the same as moving on. Talk to me. I want to know.”

She pulled away from the comfort he offered and walked over to a shaded bench in the courtyard, letting the cool shadows surround her. Finn sat beside her, silent and waiting.

Camille took a deep breath. She watched a butterfly making its way through the colorful stalks of hollyhocks along the ancient stone wall, first one bell-shaped blossom and then another, and then back again, as if it couldn’t make up its mind.

“We were at Cathedral Gorge on vacation,” she said. “Jace and I were roped together, and we were abseiling down to the riverbed from the top. The rope was secured to three safety points—the cliff edge, a boulder . . . and me. There was a sound I’ll never forget, like a huge plucked string, and the rope around the boulder loosened. He lost his footing and fell.” She paused, feeling the sensation of the rope tightening, biting into her, her gear and clothing scraping as she was dragged to the edge.

Finn covered her hand with his. She stared down at it, then carefully drew away, not wanting him to feel the icy memories. “I hung on as best I could,” she continued, “but I started to go over. I screamed at Jace to catch a handhold. I screamed . . . and when I turned to look, I saw him . . .” She paused again, still haunted by the memory. “He cut the rope and fell.”