Page 26 of Mountain Hero

The band around my chest releases another notch. My persistent headache subsides from a pounding drumbeat to a more gentle throb.

“Yeah. I grew up in Manchester, so my parents and I would take trips all over the state. Weekends in Burlington, skiing at Stowe, road trips up north… And we’d come through Bliss whenever we could and have lunch. That’s when I decided I wanted to live here. It just felt like it could be home.”

Enzo slides a plate in front of me and sits down on the stool to my left. Turning toward me, he says, “Yeah. I can see that. It is a nice place to live.” His jaw twitches. “Usually.”

Except for the whole being abducted and held hostage by my ex-boyfriend thing.

“Anyway,” he hurries to add. “You mentioned wanting to get into hiking. Have you done much of it?”

“Not really. Just walks through parks and stuff like that. But I always thought it seemed like fun. Really being in nature, challenging myself, maybe bringing a camera and taking pictures of the scenery.” Pausing, I take a small bite of sandwich and finish it before revealing another truth about myself.

“I lost my parents when I was twelve. After that, I moved to Albany to live with my aunt. She was great, but sometimes… I needed to be alone. So I’d try to find places I could walk and just be by myself. Being outside… it felt less… stifling. It didn’t hurt as much, somehow.”

Understanding fills his gaze. “I get it. I walk around the property a lot—it’s about ten acres—when I’m struggling with tough memories. Or I’ll head out on the Long Trail and walk until my head clears. Something about being out there… it makes my problems feel lighter. Easier to deal with.”

My chest squeezes, but this time it’s not from anxiety or fear.

And I wonder what losses Enzo has had to bear. His uncle, obviously. And having been in the Army so long, he must have seen some terrible things. Maybe lost some of his teammates. Friends.

Was there a woman? Did they split up? Was the stress of the military too much for their relationship? Or did he find the love of his life only to lose her tragically?

Why am I thinking about Enzo’s relationships to begin with?

But somehow I find myself asking, “Do you always hike on your own? Or do you like to go with friends? A girlfriend?”

Enzo puts down his sandwich and stares at me for several long seconds.

My cheeks go hot. Why did I ask that? First of all, if Enzo had a serious girlfriend, he wouldn’t have asked me to stay here. At least, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t. And it’s really none of my business if he does.

Except he said he couldn’t stop thinking about me.

Ugh. Of all the things I should be worrying about…

“Sorry,” I mutter, dropping my eyes to my plate. “It’s none of my?—”

“Winter.” He’s using that soft voice again, the one that makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. His fingers brush across mine; his touch lingering even after he pulls away. “To answer your questions, yes, I usually go hiking on my own. I have a few Army buddies who like hiking, so maybe once a year we’ll do a hike together. Like last year, I was on leave and hiked a few of the Adirondack High Peaks with my old teammate, Finn, and his wife, Hanna.”

“Oh.”

“And there’s no girlfriend. There hasn’t been. Not in a very long time.” After a silent beat, he adds, “Aside from going with my friends’ partners, I’ve never gone hiking with a woman. I’m not sure why. It just—” He shrugs and his cheeks tinge the faintest pink. “I’m not sure why. I just never wanted to.”

An irrational disappointment spears through me. I know it’s dumb, but I allowed myself a silly fantasy of hiking with Enzo. Of sharing that quiet peacefulness with him. Reaching the summit of a mountain and taking a picture with him instead of just a selfie of me.

Somehow most of my sandwich has disappeared—I didn’t even realize I was eating it—so I start to push away from the island so I can put the plate in the sink. But Enzo puts his hand on my shoulder and stops me. He holds my gaze as he says, “But I’d like to take you hiking once things settle down. If you’d like to go with me.”

Oh.

My nose prickles.

“I’d really like that.”

Enzo gives me a long look. Then he lightly squeezes my shoulder and smiles at me. “Good. So we have something to look forward to.” Taking the plate from my hand, he says, “Now. Let me take care of the dishes. You must be exhausted. I bet you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Not really,” I admit. “And I am pretty tired.”

“Of course you are. Why don’t you pick out a bedroom, get a shower, and I’ll come check on you before bed? Does that sound okay?”

Part of me wants to stay in the kitchen, talking to Enzo and clinging to this partially normal feeling for as long as I can. But my head still hurts, my eyelids are drooping, and all my muscles feel like jelly. Plus, I bet Enzo didn’t get much sleep after all the chaos of last night, either.

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