She sighed. “Moose wants him to fly for Air One, and I can’t hold him back.”

Winter took a sip of her coffee. “This is easy, Echo. You go with him.”

Echo stared at her. Winter had always possessed a fearlessness that Echo envied. She’d become one of the best bush pilots in the area over the past ten years.

Easy. “And what about my dad?”

“What about your dad? Your father’s decisions don’t have to hold you hostage. I know you love your dad, but maybe it’s time to see what your future might be if you let him go and stopped worrying so much.”

“I’m not sure what my life would look like without worry.” She grinned, but the question dug into her soul.

She did spend her life worrying. Afraid of losing. Afraid of living, maybe.

Afraid.

“The Lord himself watches over you, and you can trust him.”

“I think it might look like how it does from the air. Open, free, and beautiful.” Winter winked at her. “C’mon. Let’s go check on your dad.”

Winter walked out, but Echo stayed for a moment, the words sweeping through her.

Open, free, and beautiful. Like she felt when she mushed her dogs, the quiet, peaceful silence inside a brutal, harsh landscape.

Lord, I don’t want to be afraid anymore. The thought pulsed inside her.

She followed Winter out and down the hall.

Maybe Winter was right. Her dad would be fine.

She turned the corner to the waiting room and slowed.

Winter had stopped next to Moose.

But no Dodge.

She spotted movement down the hall. Dodge came out of a room.

The stricken, almost horrified expression caught her breath.

No! “Dodge?”

“I’m sorry, Echo—”

“No!” She took another step, her legs shaking. They nearly gave out then, and she dropped the coffee.

Winter moved toward her, but Dodge broke out into a run. “Echo—no—your dad is fine. He’s”—he grabbed her arms to steady her—“he’s fine. I’m sorry. He’s awake—”

She looked up at him. “What? Then why did you—”

“Your mom is with him.”

She just blinked at him. She’d gotten coffee on her pants, but it hadn’t soaked through. She looked at the mess, back at Dodge.

“I’ll get this,” said Winter.

Shoot. So much for all her brave words. “Thanks.”

Then she turned and stalked down the hall. If Effie thought she could just slip back into her dad’s life to decimate it again . . .

Echo banged through the door, not caring that she might be making a scene, and barely hesitated at the sight of her father lying in the bed, bandaged, an IV in his arm, under an oxygen cannula, a heart monitor beeping. In his flimsy gown he almost looked . . . fragile.