Page 6 of When The Mountains Held Us

Oakley

Honestly, fuck my life.

I followed the directions the man gave me to the best of my ability. Truly, I did. Only I didn’t take into consideration that my phone was low on battery or that I had been so anxious about making my appointment that I hadn’t paid any attention whatsoever to my gas.

How long had I been running on fumes?

Oops.

Now, thanks to my own idiotic self, I’m stranded on the side of a back road, in the middle of the mountains, with a dead phone, dead car, and absolutely no idea what to do.

I suppose I could get out and start walking, but there’s one thing that keeps me firmly in my seat, clutching my pocket knife for dear life. And that would be the wolves, bears, and mountain lions that lurk within these ancient woods.

Okay, so I know I’m being a bit irrational. It’s not like my chances of coming across one of those animals are all that high—though do I really have any way of actually knowing that?—but anxiety and fear have kept me rooted in place for close to two hours now, praying that someone else comes along and offers their help.

The idea of accepting help from a complete stranger makes my skin crawl, but what are my options? What’s that saying? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth? God, now I sound like my father. I guess I’ll have to sleep in my car overnight and try to hike my way into town tomorrow in the daylight.

Basically, I’m shit out of luck, and at this point, I’m not all that convinced that I actually had any to begin with. Frustrated tears well in my eyes, threatening to spill over.

The air outside the car is considerably cooler now that the sun has sunk behind the horizon, taking with it the last remnants of the summer heat. The breeze raises goosebumps along the bare flesh of my arms and legs, so I roll up my window and tug the sweatshirt over my head, yanking on the sleeves so they cover my hands.

Leaning the seat back, I tuck my legs beneath me and settle in, listening to the wind blowing through the trees. It’s eerily quiet out here, and I’m not used to such natural silence. In the suburban town I’m from, there’s always the sounds of cars driving by or planes flying overhead to fall asleep to, and I had grown accustomed to it. How am I supposed to get used to such utter silence as this?

My eyes drift closed, and I’m alone with my thoughts. I mull over my options again, deciding that I don’t like them any better now than I did the first time I ran through them. At least my phone is dead, allowing me a brief reprieve from the constant bombardment of calls and texts from the one person I never want to see or hear from again.

Panic grips me as my mind wanders to him, my body overtaking all rational thought and plunging me straight into fight-or-flight mode. My breath quickens, escaping my body in short pants, and my palms begin to sweat. The tears that were only a threat a moment ago finally spill over and dribble down my cheeks in little rivers. Here in the dark, I allow myself this small moment of weakness. I can pull myself together in a minute.

The sound of a truck engine jars my eyes open, and I whip around, squinting as I’m met with bright yellow headlights shining through the back windshield of my car. Sniffling, I take a deep breath, hastily wiping the tears from my cheeks with the sleeves of my hoodie. Panic grips my stomach in a tight fist, but I breathe through it until it loosens a bit.

This is good—gift horse, mouth, and all that.

The metallic slam of a truck door startles me, and I immediately roll my eyes. When did I become so easy to scare? I hate how weak it makes me feel.

I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I used to be calm and carefree, always ready for the next adventure and willing to jump at any opportunity to chase it.

But I had done that once before, and it landed me here, in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere, broken down on the side of the road with a dead phone and nothing but my swirling thoughts and racing heart to keep me company.

A figure approaches the window, shining a flashlight in my face. On instinct, I slam my eyes shut and lift my hand to shield my face, bright dots twirling around the inside of my eyelids.

“Shit, sorry.” The deep timbre of the man’s voice is familiar, but in my exhaustion, I can’t trust that I’m not making up the familiarity. He lowers the light, and I open my eyes, blinking to clear my vision. When I look up, I find myself peering up into a set of recognizable green eyes.

“It’s you,” I say, my words coming out with a note of surprise. It’s not like it hadn’t crossed my mind that maybe the attractive man who gave me directions would wander along this road and find me, but I didn’t think that it would actually happen.

A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “It’s you.”

“What are you doing here?” Stupid.

“I could ask you the same thing. Doesn’t seem like this is where you were looking to end up when I gave you those directions.” Amusement drips from his lips, and I roll my eyes.

“Ran out of gas. And your directions were shit.” Much better.

“I can see that.” He shoots me an apologetic smile. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride into town.”

Without waiting for my answer, he tugs open the door—why hadn’t I thought to lock it?—and I hurriedly slip my sandals on and clamber out, taking a moment to stretch my arms above my head and wiggle some feeling back into my legs.

“Let me just grab my bag.” The passenger side of the car is too close to the guardrail and even closer to the drop off the ledge for comfort, so instead, I lean across the center console and retrieve my backpack with the necessities from the front seat.

A throat clears behind me, and only then do I realize I just gave this stranger a clear view of my ass in the shortest, tightest pair of shorts I own. Great.