He loved St. Louis. Loved to watch the Cardinals take it out of the park and pray with everyone else that the Rams would make the Super Bowl. He sank down to the edge of the bed lost in his thoughts, picking apart a few truths. How long had it been since he'd even done something as decadent as attend a baseball game? How long had it been since he'd drawn a breath and not felt caged, pressured, and in Rebecca's case, hunted?

His eyes drifted closed as the memories came back to him of his hiking trip, so many years ago. Green firs, rushing creeks. Beautiful sunsets and gorgeous sunrises not blocked by towering skyscrapers, or hindered by the noise of life in the big city. The sweet smell of the wild country. His chest swelled as he inhaled, his thoughts reliving the moments of six years past.

He had set out again, hiking for several days after his first wayward adventure of becoming lost, but he didn't get lost again. He had purchased another compass and with food in hand, had resumed his tackling of nature.

He hadn't seen the wolf again either. The wolf. There it was, in his thoughts again. He shook his head in logical denial.

A white beauty of an animal that had somehow, probably, saved his life. The memory still held the feeling of unreality, a vision or a dream. He had wandered, hungry and thirsty when it had appeared almost as if from nowhere. Wolves were intelligent, but not so intelligent as to guide a human to safety when their first instinct was to avoid them if at all possible. How could a wild animal even know to lead him to a trailhead to begin with? He shook his head. It was an absurd mixture of unreality and vision. It had to be.

He had convinced himself as the days had passed without sighting the beautiful animal again, that he would have found the trail again on his own. Yet he'd silently admitted, at least to himself, just how far off the beaten path he had been. He could have wandered another day or two easily before he'd realized that he was going in the wrong direction. The wolf had led him nearly due east when he remembered he had stuck to south, and the distance had been immeasurable. He probably would have hit northern California before he would have found any path that would have led him back into the parklands he had intended to walk.

From somewhere deep in his memory the smell of roast rabbit entered his senses and his mouth watered, almost as if the fire was right in his room and he could simply reach out a hand to touch the warm cooked flesh, to taste it. That was the part that argued the vision theory. The wolf had killed it for him, of that he was sure. Why else would it have brought it? How else would he have even eaten? But it boggled the mind. Wolves did not feed humans. They did not save humans. He couldn't find a single explanation for what had happened that evening. Until that moment with it all crashing into his memories again so clearly, he hadn't really tried. His hand shook with a gentle tremor where it rested on his thigh. He curled his fingers, forcing restraint. Steady breaths helped to turn the memories to mist.

He hadn't spoken of it to anyone, not even to his brother, whose experiences equaled his with the great outdoors. He was just as sure Mitch would've loved to pick the whole episode apart, trying to convince Bram he had imagined it all. It was the silent fear that he had dreamed it, which kept him from bringing it up.

Thinking of his younger brother made him smile. Mitchell was a character, as all the Benedetti men were and had been. Mitchell was aloof and charming but smart, a strong conscientious man who was now a firefighter, jumper qualified. At least he had been smart enough to avoid marrying the wrong woman. Janice was as much a sore spot with him, as Rebecca was for Bram. Janice had been the closest Mitch had come to the altar. Bram should've have taken his cues from his brother's reticence, but Bram married first. Just one more thing they had in common to draw them closer.

Once more in command of his thoughts, he stood from the bed to pull the zipper closed on his suitcase and found his tickets on the bed beneath the cover. He picked up the packet, holding it in his hand and realized with a touch of wonder that he had begun to smile. He was relaxed. It felt good to smile for nothing, just once in a while. His flight was early, just after six. With time zones and an unavoidable lay over, he would be arriving around eleven. It would mean a long day for him.

He wasn't entirely sure how he was looking at this yet. He had a guaranteed position in St. Louis, but since the divorce, before if he were to be honest with himself, it hadn't felt right. Not like home. Rebecca and her constant nagging didn't help any. Even with her out of the equation, it didn't change the way he felt.

Suddenly, Selene Aiza's voice echoed in his inner ear. He could hear the smile in her words, her sincere expressions. He wasn't going on vacation this time, but maybe it was time to do something besides just live day to day.

Finished, his bags waited by the door and his clock was set. As he fell asleep that night, he felt expectancy, a thrill he had been missing. He knew in his heart that whatever this offer was, whether he accepted or not, it was the beginning to something new for him. And for the first time in too long, he slept a peaceful, dreamless sleep.