Page 72 of Ten Mountain Men

What was I thinking? I just swung into these guys’ life, crashing in like Miley Cyrus’s damn wrecking ball and…didn’t really even give a thought to how my stay would affect them. Was that only forty-eight hours ago, that I landed on top of Luke in that mud puddle? It seems like weeks, even months ago.

And deep down, it bothers me that Luke wants me gone so bad he would leave himself rather than be in my presence. Part of me honestly thought that being grumpy was just part of his personality and he would come around, eventually. I would win him over. Peoplelikeme!

But Luke thinks I’m a Sasquatch hunter. Is that why he hates me so? And if he’s worried that I’m a Sasquatch hunter…does that mean he has a reason to be worried about Sasquatch hunters?

Could I have actually been right about my theory that they’re half-Sasquatch?

It doesn’t matter, I realize.

Even if they are…even if their father was the Sasquatch that saved me…there are reasons that Sasquatches remain hidden, just as there are reasons the Björnsson brothers remain hidden. Even if I have the best intentions, did I really ever have any right to try to find and expose my hero from so long ago?

No. I did not.

I was selfish. Only thinking about what I needed. And now the Björnssons are arguing. Because of me.

More tears blur my eyes and I realize…I have no fucking clue where I am. I should’ve made it to my campsite by now, and my ankle smarts something fierce, flares of pain shooting up my shin with each step. It’s just me, wearing a flannel shirt that’s eighty-five times too big for me, in the middle of the wilderness. I turn in circles, looking for something familiar. The brothers may know every tree by name, but they all look the same to me. Trunks and branches and leaves.

I think about calling out for help, but instead, I jut my chin out and forge ahead. Hopefully in the right direction.

Finally, after what seems like forever but was probably less than an hour, I see a flash of pink. My tent!

Thank God! I feel a surge of gratitude that the brothers set it up for me when they came to get my things to bring to the cabin.

Damn. I left my things at the cabin.

Oh, well. Nothing that can’t be replaced, I guess.

I push through to the clearing, so happy I could cry at the thought of being able to lie down for a minute and rest. Forget my ankle. Yeah, it hurts like hell, but I’m in agony from the thighs down, every muscle in my legs jumping and twitching. I’m panting with exertion.

I don’t want to lose any weight. I love my curves. But damn, I’m outta shape and I need to do something about that.

I stumble over and lift the flap of the tent. I’ll just rest up and then I’ll head back down the mountain, down to my car. Maybe I’ll check into the Wilderness Haven place for a few days. Get pampered before I—

“There you are,” a smooth voice says and I nearly jump out of my skin.

Chapter 21

Goldie

Ispin around.

Leaning against a tree behind me is Brooks, holding the bouquet of flowers he gave me last night, still in its water glass, and wearing a look of immense relief.

“I was getting worried that you’d skipped the campsite and gone straight to your car and hauled tail out of here!”

“Brooks. I didn’t want anyone to follow me.”

“I thought I might never see you again.”

“Which would be for the best,” I say. “For you. You need to go back. I can’t—”

“Look, please hear me out. Please don’t turn me away. I can’t believe someone like you is right here on our mountain. Has been right there in our cabin, eating at our table. Bathing in our tub.” He looks bashful as he says this. “Sleeping in my room. You’re amazing and I hate the idea of you just running off like this, camping all by yourself out here in the dark and cold. Gold. Please.”

“I’m not going back,” I say. “I can’t do this. I can’t do messy. And messy is exactly what me being in your cabin is. One big disastrous mess. For me, for you all. Just a mess. A mess I created.”

I realize as I say it how true it is. When I stumbled upon them initially, in the water, they were joyous and boisterous and harmonious. Childlike. When I stumbled upon them at the dining table this morning, there was a tension I only register now. A friction and unease, a low-lying agitation that was oh-so-familiar to me, but who knows if they’d ever experienced it before. I’d felt it at the beginning of the end of each of Mother’s marriages.

One night is all it took for me to bring that to their happy cabin. I’m driving a wedge between them, destroying the very stability and cohesion that made me feel so safe and secure with them in the first place.

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