Page 14 of Lost in the Wild

What will I do once she’s gone?

Resentment and desire war in my brain, and I hike back to the cave with extra-long strides, bag swinging in my grip. By the time I duck under the icy flow of the waterfall, shaking droplets from my eyes, I’m ready to fling our blackberries at the wall and then crash to my knees at her feet and beg for… something. Anything.

“There you are.”

It’s those words again; the same delighted greeting that Evie gave me the first time we met. She’s sitting over on the cot, tugging on her hiking boots, but she straightens up with a relieved smile when I enter. There are shadows beneath her eyes, but she seems well enough rested this morning.

“Thought you ditched me,” Evie says, tipping her head back and combing her fingers through her mussed hair. “I was gonna hike down the mountain all heartbroken, singing Celine Dion songs.”

…Nope, can’t process that. I stride closer and toss the canvas bag into her lap.

“Breakfast. Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”

Evie tuts, peering into the bag. The whole base is soaked with purple juice, and she rummages for a handful of berries. “So bossy.”

Her eyes widen a little when she pops the first berry into her mouth, then she groans, loud and long. “Oh my god,” Evie says, tossing a second berry past her lips and chewing quickly. “These taste amazing. So sweet and fresh. They’re the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“It’s the mountain air and exercise. And sleeping wild. Everything tastes better out here,” I finish, my cheeks turning unaccountably hot.

Evie moans and nods, delving into the bag again like she hasn’t eaten in weeks.

That’s fine. She can eat every last berry—there are plenty more where they came from, and besides: I’m not hungry. I’m too on edge to eat, my gut tensing every time I think about this girl leaving never to return.

Will she miss me? Miss the mountain?

Would she ever come back to visit?

What if I helped with that ridiculous article—would she come back then?

“How far is the town from here?” Evie asks through a mouthful of blackberries, her cheeks bulging like an adorable hamster. It’s fine that she’s eager to leave. Perfectly reasonable.

“Three hours, give or take. Depends on your ankle, and how often we stop for breaks.”

She brightens. “We?”

Obviously. How much of an asshole does she think I am? I slide her a glare as I cross to the shelves, digging out an old flannel shirt and the boots and socks I wear for my supply runs. This will go better if other hikers on the mountain don’t think I’m a crazy man abducting a beautiful woman.

Evie’s laugh warms the cave. “So you do have clothes!”

The boots thud against the stone floor, and I shove my arms through the shirtsleeves, trying not to rankle at the stretch of fabric over my shoulders; the trapped feeling it gives me sometimes.

“Eat up,” I clip out again. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”

* * *

The walk down the mountain is slow as hell. Evie keeps stopping to admire the view, or sip water from her bottle, or point out birds of prey hovering high overhead. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to drag this out too, reluctant to part, because her ankle isn’t swollen at all this morning.

She’s not even favoring her other leg. She’s fine.

And yet every ten minutes or so, she makes us stop and inhale the mountain air.

“Yeah, it’s pretty,” I agree for the millionth time. “I think so too, that’s why I live up here.”

Evie elbows me in the ribs. “Grump.”

We play I Spy and the alphabet game, naming countries starting with each letter of the alphabet. Every time I name one, Evie seems surprised that I’m aware of the outside world.

“I’m not an actual caveman, you know,” I say after she gapes when I name Qatar. “I went to school, had a job. Had a whole life before I came up here. Hell, I even saw the occasional map.”

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