“Gibson Hart?” The name rings a bell with me as I dodge the limb snapping back into place.
“The rock star? He was the singer from Velvet Riot who just up and quit the band a few of years ago.”
Ah, now I remember. That guy’s name was on the lips of every woman from the minute he appeared on the scene. He was even number one on my friend Neveah’s Freebie Five and still might be. “Didn’t he die?”
Matt shook his head. “That was the drummer. Car accident. It might have been a tipping point though because Gibson Hart’s parents died in a plane crash when he was a teenager. But they got a new drummer. Gibson ended up in rehab.”
“How do you know all this stuff?”
He sighs and I kind of feel like he’s patting me on the head. “I just do, that’s why my podcast is going to be huge.” He glances back over his shoulder. “Gotta keep up, Poppy.”
My chest tightens. “Where are we going anyway?” I thought this was supposed to be a leisurely spring hike in the mountains.
Matt mutters under his breath so I don’t catch his words. Thighs burning, I lengthen my stride, hustling to catch up. Eyes firmly on the ground to avoid any muddy patches, I’m caught completely unaware until a faint whoosh is my only warning to the large branch flying back towards my face. I try to dodge, but I’m not quite quick enough and my ankle buckles, nausea rising in my throat at the wrenching sensation flashing up my leg before hitting the ground, my elbow striking something hard and I cry out as cold mud seeps into my leggings.
“Jesus, Poppy.” Matt crashes back through the tree that tried to murder me. “How did you end up right behind me? Didn’t you see that branch? You have to watch where you’re going.”
I swallow hard, the burn of tears sharp and painful in the back of my throat.
Matt crouches down. “Are you okay?”
My eyes well, not at his concern, but at the annoyance he can barely hide with his tone. Nodding, I sit up, ignoring the throb that seems to echo from my elbow to my hip and down my leg.I flex my ankle, teeth sinking into my lip as pain explodes at the tiny movement. I suck in a gasp.
Matt hangs his head. “Is it broken?”
“I—I don’t think so. I can move it, but it hurts.”
“Okay.” He sighs and pulls out his phone. “My signal isn’t great up here and you’re full of mud with a fucked-up ankle.” His jaw clenches. “Through the trees there’s more of a clearing. You can wait there while I find a branch sturdy enough for you to use as a crutch. And I need to take a quick look at something.
I look up over his shoulder. The sun has disappeared behind a bank of clouds I hadn’t seen earlier. The breeze has a distinct chill, but maybe that’s due to the mud I’m sitting in. “Matt, I’d really like to go home.”
He grunts, pulling me up while I wobble on one leg. “I need to check something out.”
I wonder what he’s up to. I knew there was more to this hiking trip than “fun”. Flutters of apprehension appear in my stomach. There’s no way I’m getting back to the car on this ankle. Matt and I hobble a few feet past the trees into a clearing with a large boulder. I lower myself to the rock.
“I’d carry you back down the mountain, but you’re just too heavy,” he says, propping my bag next to me so I can lean on it.
Too heavy. Too clumsy. Too much trouble.
My throat tightens. “I have some ibuprofen in my bag. I’ll take that. It’ll be fine.”
“Alright, stay here and try not to do any more damage.”
The wind ruffles the trees behind me. “You won’t be gone long, will you?”
Matt’s holding his phone up, presumably trying to find the exact angle he needs to gain another bar. “I hope not.” He doesn’t even look down. “But now I’ve got to figure a way to get you back to the car.” He sighs, lowering the phone. “While I’m gone why don’t think of a way to get me invited to that sponsors’lunch thing Geoff is planning?” He grins. “I mean, if my name somehow made its way onto the list, Geoff would just assume the agency included me, right?”
A shadow falls over the clearing as the clouds drift together. “I can’t do that, Matt, I could lose my job.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “I’m certain no one would check.” He pats me on the head. “Just think about it, babe.”
I watch his retreating back before digging in my pack for the pain medication. Swallowing two, I flex my ankle, throwing up a silent prayer for the sun to break through the clouds.
2
Poppy
My phone has zero bars. The growing anxiety in my chest is starting to take on a life of its own with the gathering of darker clouds that seem to be rolling in like they’re joining a party. I unwrap a granola bar from my bag and take the bite, the almonds and dark chocolate tasting like all the bad decisions I’ve made since I got up this morning.
