Page 144 of Unleashed

"It’s cold," I said, pulling the blanket tighter around me. "I didn’t want to spend another night out in the freezing air."

"Take care of yourself, Kincaid. And think hard. I’ll talk to you soon."

"Love you," I whispered.

"Love you, too, even though you’re a bitch sometimes." Erika chuckled before the line went dead.

I lay back on the bed, feeling the weight of her words. Michael’s drunken spiral gnawed at me, the familiar guiltcreeping in. It felt like history repeating itself—the same story, the same pain. I had to make a decision, but right now, all I wanted was sleep. My body ached, my mind was a storm of confusion, and even though it was barely eight, I crawled under the covers, mentally and physically drained.

I awoke to the aroma of bacon wafting up the stairs. It was just before 7 am, so I figured I would get an early start. I took a quick shower and immediately felt better than the day before. It was nice to have a toilet to do my business in, too. Downstairs, Mrs. Collier had the table set full of platters with bacon, sausage, pancakes, toast, scrambled eggs, slices of oranges, apples and grapefruit, small brown ceramic crocks with butter, strawberry jam and blueberry preserves, two pitchers of orange juice, and a large carafe of hot coffee with cream, milk and sugar on the side.

I ate a couple of pancakes and chatted up a young couple who were spending their two-week honeymoon hiking the trail. The wife, Darla, a cute elfin faced woman with dark hair showed me her thick diamond encrusted wedding band.

“Aren’t you afraid to lose that?” I asked.

“No. I told Paul I would never take it off.”

Her husband was tall and had shaggy blond hair and an infectious smile. I liked them both immediately and hoped I would see them in my travels. They offered to let me tag along with them, but I needed to continue to think so I declined.

After breakfast was finished, I used the bathroom before I donned my pack and got ready to hit the trail. It was colder this morning than yesterday, and I pulled on a pair of thick woolen gloves before giving Mrs. Collier and her son, Jesse, a hug as I walked out the door.

"Fuck!"I screamed, my voice echoing through the fading light as I slammed the stove shut in frustration. No matter how many times I tried, the damn thing refused to catch. No heat. No hot water. I stared down at the unlit stove, my breath clouding in the cold evening air.

Great, just perfect. I sighed, resigned to another meal of protein bars and trail mix. My stomach growled in protest, but I shoved the food into my mouth, chewing mechanically as my foot throbbed.

With a grimace, I set up my tent and flicked on my small lamp. The weak glow cast long shadows as I rummaged through my backpack. Where the hell is it? My fingers finally closed around the first aid kit. I pulled it out and settled onto my sleeping bag, peeling off my boot carefully to reveal the damage.

The skin around the blister was raw and red, abraded from the constant friction. It had opened up, the edges swollen and angry. "Shit," I muttered under my breath, reaching for the antibiotic cream. The sting of the ointment was sharp, but I pressed on, smoothing it over the wound before securing it with a large bandage.

"Please don't get worse," I whispered, almost like a prayer to the universe.

With my foot somewhat tended to, I grabbed my phone, hoping for some small relief. No signal. Of course. I wasn't surprised this deep in the woods, but the isolation gnawed at me. Just one call, one text—anything.

Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow I'd be in the vicinity of Newtonville. Sally and Nick Murrow, owners of The BackpackMotel, would be expecting me. I clung to the thought like a lifeline.

I lay down, feeling the weight of the night settle over me, but unease crept into my thoughts. My head pounded, a dull, relentless ache that only worsened as I tossed and turned. By the time I finally drifted off, it felt like my body was betraying me at every turn.

When I woke, it was with a groan. My head throbbed with a vengeance, and a dull ache had settled into my foot, reminding me of yesterday's struggle. Six miles—just six miles to The Backpack. That was all I needed to get through today.

I dragged myself out of the tent, greeted by a thin layer of flurries that had fallen overnight. The snow dusted everything, making the rocks along the trail look even more treacherous.

I brushed the snow from my tent, shoving a handful of trail mix into my mouth. No time to waste. In less than twenty minutes, I had packed up my things and hoisted my backpack onto my shoulders. My foot throbbed, but I pushed through, limping along the trail. The bandage held, though each step sent jolts of pain up my leg.

By the time I reached The Backpack Motel, it was nearly eleven. Exhaustion clung to me like a second skin, and my foot screamed in protest with each step.

A mishap with my pack had delayed me—my canteen broke free from its strap and tumbled down a hill. I cursed as I scrambled to retrieve it, the top broken off when I finally fished it out of a muddy ditch.

Thirst clawed at my throat, my mouth dry, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. All I could focus on was the dull ache in my body, the weight of the pack that seemed heavier with each passing hour, and the faint hope that Sally and Nick had a replacement canteen in their store.

When I finally crossed the threshold of The Backpack, the lobby was empty, and there was no sign of Sally at the front desk. I rang the bell once, then again, harder, as the minutes stretched on. Finally, I heard a shuffle from the back room. Sally emerged, wiping her hands on her brown jeans.

Her face lit up like the sun when she spotted me. “Damn, girl! It’s been ages since we last saw you! What happened to visiting us more often?”

Before I could answer, she rushed around the counter, pulling me into a warm, tight hug. Her embrace was so familiar that, for a moment, the exhaustion I’d carried in melted away.

I smiled weakly as I pulled back. “Life’s been… hectic.”

She gave me a knowing look. “Where’s that nice man you were with the last time you came by?”

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