WARRICK
The parking lot is packed by the time I pull my Jeep into a space that a volunteer in a baseball cap directs me to. Killing the engine, I grab the small backpack I filled with a couple of bottles of water, some sunscreen, a couple of protein bars, and my earbuds, and open my Jeep’s door, slipping out of my seat and into the early morning sunshine.
Pulling my bag over my shoulder, I sigh, taking in the groups of hikers, all laden down with stuff, like they’re preparing to survive a year in the wild, not taking a walk along a pre-marked trail.
Not that I plan to do anything different. I have a fairly good sense of direction, and I’m used to navigating remote woods. Although, usually they’re on fire. But really all I intend to do this morning is waste a little time and see what the area has to offer.
Locking my Jeep, I pull my ball cap down low over my eyes and take a step forward, almost running straight into the person who directed me to park here. I hadn’t really paid attention while I was parking, but now that I see her, it’s impossible to not notice her.
The woman—or girl, because she’s clearly young, although I’m not sure how young—is dressed in a baggy T-shirt and cargoshorts that are too big, secured with a belt cinched tightly at her tiny waist. The ball cap she’s wearing is a sun-worn navy blue and boasts the Rockhead Peak Ranger Service logo in muted yellow across the front.
Her hair is braided into a long rope that hangs almost to her butt and is a rich chestnut color, not quite red, but not brown either. I can’t see much of her face, but from what I can see, her skin is sun-warmed, with a smattering of freckles leading down to full, pouty lips.
“Sir,” she says, her voice too soft. “Sir,” she says again, pulling my attention from her face to the flyer she’s clearly trying to give to me.
“Oh,” I grunt, lifting my hand and taking the flyer from her.
“That’s a map for the trails that start from this lot. It also shows you the ranger stations and the emergency checkpoints along the route, just in case you need help. Cell phone signal can be hit and miss out there, but the checkpoints all have phones that connect straight to the ranger station that’s manned twenty-four seven. Stay on the trails, the woods can be dangerous, and even though you shouldn’t see many at this time of year, there are bears out there. So stay aware of your surroundings and have a great day,” she says, like she’s memorized the words and is simply reciting them.
“Thanks,” I tell her. “Hey, what’s your name?” I call as she turns to walk away.
“It’s Verity,” she says, glancing quickly over her shoulder before she turns and moves to direct the next car that arrives into a space.
Unable to move, I stand and watch as she silently points to the empty spot beside my Jeep, offering the hikers a map and the same explanation she gave me. When I’m still standing in the same spot after they’ve all disappeared down the trail, she glances cautiously back at me.
“Is everything okay? Are you waiting for someone?” she asks.
“No.”
“No?” she repeats. “You’re not okay? Do you need me to call for help?”
“No,” I say again, sounding like an idiot.
Crossing her arms over her chest in what feels like a protective gesture, she takes a small step back. “I don’t really understand,” she says quietly.
“Sorry. Fuck,” I mutter. “No, I’m fine. I’m just taking a moment,” I say, feeling like a fucking idiot.
“Oh,” she says, nodding like that makes sense. “Okay.”
Cursing myself for acting like a weirdo, I exhale, then force my feet to move, heading for the trail entrance and away from the girl that my body is begging me not to leave. The trail is busy and beautiful, but I barely pay attention because all I can think about is the girl.
I didn’t even see all of her face, but something inside of me is pulling me back to the parking lot. To her. The nagging sensation in my stomach doesn’t stop, only lessening when I turn around and start heading back in the direction of my Jeep.
By the time I reach the parking lot, I feel almost frantic. Scanning the lot, I search for her, but I can’t find the intriguing girl. Cars have filled the entire lot, and she’s gone.
Unsure what to do, I open my back door and sit on the fender, drinking my water and eating a protein bar as I wait for her to return. But thirty minutes later there’s still no sign of her. Edgy, I wonder if she moved to direct traffic at another parking lot, but as I’m contemplating driving to the next closest trail, a truck pulls into the lot with the ranger service logo on the side.
“Warrick,” Clayton, one of the rangers we’ve worked with in the past, calls out to me as he climbs out from behind the wheel.
“Hey man,” I greet him, standing and making my way across the lot to speak to him.
“I didn’t think you were much of a hiker,” he says, his tone mocking. He knows that I like to lift and that beyond a cursory amount of cardio to maintain my stamina, I focus mainly on strength training.
“I’m not. But I’ve been living here for a while now, and I realized I’ve only seen the vistas when they’ve been on fire,” I tell him, leaving out the antsy boredom I’ve been feeling now that all of my buddies are wifed up.
“This is a pretty good place to start. The view from the top of the trail is spectacular,” he says genuinely.
“Yeah, I saw it,” I say quickly. “Hey, do you know Verity?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
