Page 14 of When The Mountains Held Us

My pride niggles at me, and that single flicker of independent Oakley returning has me ready to jump for joy. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her, but I swallow my argument, knowing I’d only be fighting a losing battle if I were to try and push him.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, and we fall into a comfortable silence as he drives.

He makes a turn, and a breathtaking view of the mountains in the early morning sun greets us, drawing a gasp from my lips. I watch Levi’s head tilt gently in my periphery, but my eyes are glued to the mountains sprawled out before us in various shades of green, brown, and gray. It’s the most magnificent sight I have ever seen. How would it feel to stand atop one of them? To see the landscape rolling out below me and witness the expanse of the world out there to discover.

My face tingles with awareness at the weight of his eyes on me, but it’s only a momentary feeling as I watch the ever-changing scenery before us, engrossed in the real life depictions of something I’ve only ever seen in a storybook.

“I’ve lived here my whole life, and it still never fails to take my breath away.” His quiet words wrap around me like a warm embrace. He speaks reverently, his unspoken words letting me know he sees me even though I haven’t yet said a word.

“I’ve never lived anywhere like this before. I never imagined something as beautiful as this existed outside of highly photoshopped pictures online.” My quiet confession feels intimate, like I’m sharing a piece of myself without the expectation of anything in return. It’s a strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one.

How is it that I’m more at ease sitting here with a man I met only yesterday—and under very stressful circumstances, mind you—than every single moment combined from the last seven months? I’m not sure I’m ready to dissect that right now.

“You should see the view from the top,” Levi says.

“I don’t know how it could get any more beautiful than this.”

We’re quiet for a while as we drive, and I soak up the way the light shines through the pines, making patches of them appear a lighter green than the ones that fall in shadow.

“I could show you sometime, if you want.” His offer is low, just loud enough to reach me over the quiet music and the sound of the gravel under the truck tires. He leaves the offer hanging there, not pushing me for an answer but instead letting me consider it in my own time, like he’s in no hurry to find out what I’ll decide.

We take another turn, and a few minutes pass in peaceful quiet as I drink in the surrounding landscape, my nose all but pressed against the window to see better. All too soon, the truck slows to a stop, and I pry my eyes away from the view of the mountains to see we’ve parked behind my car on the side of the road. I climb out of the truck, grabbing my keys out of the front pocket of my bag before swinging it over my shoulder.

The metallic clang of the tailgate sounds from behind me, and the sound reverberates uncomfortably through my body, from the top of my head all the way down to my toes, sounding too much like the slamming of a car door. The sound alone threatens to drag me under the imposing tidal wave of memories I’d rather keep buried.

I jump when Levi speaks up from close behind me. “Pop the gas cap.”

I hurry to open the car door, pull the lever, and throw my bag into the passenger seat. As Levi pours the gas into the tank, I lean against the car and take in the view of the mountains from where I stand. Last night, in the midst of my anxiety and spiraling thoughts, I hadn’t realized how close to the edge of perfection I was sitting on the side of this road.

When he finishes pouring the last of the gas into the tank, he slowly approaches me. His steps are cautious, the kind I imagine he might use when approaching a wounded animal, and it snaps something in me. I stand up straight, throwing my shoulders back and lifting my chin to meet his eyes. If he sees a change in my demeanor, he doesn’t let on, save for the slight lift of his lips and the knowing gleam in his eyes.

He stands there in front of me with the empty gas can in one hand, and his other tucked into his pocket, and regards me with a quiet curiosity.

I allow myself a moment to appreciate the roughness of him. The way his shirt hugs his biceps and the way the breeze ruffles his wavy dark brown hair. The locks gleam in the sunshine and match the shine of his eyes.

There’s a reserved fascination as he assesses me, like he’s trying to understand what he’s seeing without asking me outright. His attention is uncomfortable, but I realize with surprise that it’s not unwanted. Something settles heady in my stomach as he watches me. I break the silence first.

“I should get going. The building manager said I could meet with her this morning, and I’ve already kept her waiting long enough.” I search his face, looking for anything to reveal his true feelings about me leaving, but his expression gives nothing away. It’s silly to expect it of him. I’m a stranger to him, after all. Still, a small part of me hoped to find even the faintest glimmer of disappointment in his eyes.

“Think you can find your way back?” His gentle teasing coaxes a small smile from me, which he returns.

“Most likely not,” I respond honestly.

His chuckle is low and rumbling, and it seems to do something unmentionable to my insides.

“Come on. I’m already a little late for work. I can spare a few extra minutes. You can follow me back.”

“I would definitely be mountain lion food if it wasn’t for you.” The mountains suddenly seem so utterly dull compared to his bright smile and shining eyes.

“Nah. Something tells me you can hold your own. But that doesn’t mean that you always have to. You’ll learn, the longer you hang around a small town like this, that it’s okay to let people in.”

Without waiting for a response, he turns and climbs into his truck while I’m left standing there with the weight of his words hanging over me.

If only he knew how much I once believed in those pretty words of his, spoken from the lips of another.

If only it was easy to believe in them again.

Eight