Chapter 3

Over the next couple of days, I worked at the shop during the day and organized my paperwork at night.

On the afternoon of the 13th, I met with Eve Salvidge to break off the engagement.

She was at the equestrian club, holding the stirrup steady for Damian.

Spotting me, Damian rushed to get down from the horse.

“Wesley, don’t get the wrong idea. I was just a little scared.”

Eve gripped the reins to keep him steady before turning to me.

“This can wait.”

Standing under the shade structure, I texted Willow to let her know I’d be in on schedule tomorrow.

Eve approached, her gaze falling on my lit screen.

“You used to be all over me. Are you trying to play hard to get now?”

“I want to end our engagement.”

She paused in the middle of removing her gloves.

“I was only helping Damian out since he’s new to horse-riding, and you already jumped to call off the engagement?”

In my 12th lifetime, Eve took me to this very club.

I threw my shoulder, falling off the horse, so I reached out to her for a hand.

“The Killington men shouldn’t be so fragile. Pick yourself back up.”

Only when a press reporter strolled by with a camera did she bother to hold me by the shoulder.

“It has nothing to do with what happened on the horse today.”

“Who or what is this really about?”

She reached for my phone, but I slipped it into my pocket.

“It’s on me. I don’t want to go through with this marriage.”

“I promised your mother that we’d be engaged by this fall.”

“I never agreed to that.”

The smile vanished from her face.

“Once the engagement is off, I won’t play the loving fiancée anymore.”

“Okay.”

On my way back, Oakleigh blew up my phone three times.

When her third call was connected, I asked whether I could get the tape player ahead of time.

“Eve said that you’re backing out of the wedding?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you trying to accomplish here?”

“I just want my things back.”

The sound of paper crumpling came through the line.

“Make sure to show up for the family dinner at the lodge this weekend. If you mess up again, I can’t promise you get to keep that box of junk.”

I saved the call recording.

The rainstorm of every April 16 remained vivid in my mind.

When I was brought back to life the 73rd time, the evacuation vehicle didn’t wait for me. I ran after my ride, only to be swept off the bridge by a mudslide.

Everyone believed I was dead.

Meanwhile, the floodwaters carried me into an abandoned mine downstream, where I managed to survive for three days.

Eventually, I found my way out along an old mining road. The first thing I did was return to the Killington estate.

Peyton held me in her arms and wept for five minutes.

Once again, I put my faith in her.

Six months later, Damian accused me of milking a tragedy for sympathy to take Peyton away.

Peyton told me to quit bringing up those dark topics.

Either way, things didn’t end well for me in that life.

By lifetime 100, I urged everyone to get out of the mountain lodge, knowing what was to come.

In the end, I stayed by the car door because we were all waiting for Damian.

When the rush of water pulled me off the bridge, my fingers clung desperately to Peyton’s skirt.

In doing so, I missed the very trail that once saved me.

This time around, I was done waiting.

I gave Ben Littlejohn a call, telling him to head down the mountain early.

He was the groundkeeper of the mountain estate, the very person who once had gone back looking for me in my 73rd life.

“Ben, it’s going to pour this Saturday. Do what you can to persuade everyone to leave early.”

“I have warned the Killingtons, but your father didn’t want dinner to be disrupted. He said he’d have the dinner indoors.”

Not stopping there, I forwarded the severe weather warning to Oakleigh and alerted ranger dispatch down the mountain that folks were at the lodge.

I did my part.

“It’s your grandkid’s birthday on Saturday. Don’t miss it for this dinner.”

Ben chuckled at my sharp memory. I went ahead and bought him a shuttle to get down the mountain.

After the call, Eve texted me a therapy session appointment.

According to her, my behavior had been erratic lately, so she sent a driver to pick me up.

I replied that I wasn’t going and to cancel the appointment.

Later that evening, I laid out an old road map in my motel room.

The route I had trekked in my 73rd life was still intact, cutting straight through to the town highway.

I knew full well how easily a disaster could wipe away any trace of where a man went.

Bridges washed away, lost phone signals, clothing caked in thick sludge.

When I made it home back then, the Killingtons went as far as to ask if I should’ve stayed dead.

Now, they could have that ending.

I packed up my driver’s license and bank cards, planning to send my bags ahead to Elmwood.

Willow dropped me a pin for the shop’s new address and reminded me to call before coming so I wouldn’t get lost.

After shooting back a quick “sure,” I stared at the address on my phone for a long time.

I jotted down two timestamps on a piece of paper.

4:40 PM – Ben leaves the estate.

6:07 PM – The mudslide takes out the bridge.

This time, the flood would swallow me up right before the Killingtons’ eyes.

Only, my destination was a flower shop called Willow & Branch.