Page 25 of Stranded with the Mountain Man

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because someone needs to." She pats my hand."That boy's been half-alive since you left.Even after leaving the club, he's just been existing.Until you showed up again."

"We barely know each other anymore," I protest.

"Don't mistake familiarity for knowledge." She rises, gathering her empty cup. "The roads will be clear soon.You'll have choices to make."

"I know." The weight of those choices presses down on me."My career, my research--they're important to me."

"As they should be." She heads toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob."But if there's one thing I've learned in seventy years, it's that beds get cold and awards gather dust.At the end, it's the people we love who matter most."

With that parting wisdom, she's gone, leaving me with half-eaten coffee cake and uncomfortable truths to consider.

I wander to the window, gazing toward town where Rosco might be, doing whatever MCs do during territorialdisputes.The fear I've been suppressing rises again.What if he's hurt? What if he doesn't come back?

What if he does, and I'm already gone?

Bear nudges my hand, whining softly.I scratch his ears absently, mind racing through possibilities.Stay and wait? Leave a note? Return to Atlanta and pretend these days never happened?

My phone rings, startling me from my thoughts.It's Earl.

"Road's clear all the way to your place," he announces without greeting."Checked the house too. East wing's a total loss, but the west side might be salvageable.Insurance folks left their card on what's left of the porch."

"Thank you, Earl. How's...everything in town?" I ask, searching for a way to ask about Rosco without being obvious.

A pause. "If you're asking about a certain mountain man, haven't seen him.Tank and the boys were at the roadhouse last night, but your fella wasn't with them."

So much for small-town subtlety."He's not my 'fella.'"

"Uh-huh." Earl's disbelief is palpable even through the phone."Your car's still where you left it.Battery's dead, but Jimmy can jump it if you're looking to head out."

The option hangs there, an exit strategy I should probably take.The sensible Dr. Wilson would call Jimmy, get her car started, and drive straight to Riversend for a hotel room with reliable Wi-Fi and room service.

But I'm not feeling particularly sensible.

"Actually, I think I'll stay put a bit longer," I hear myself say."I need to finish some research samples.Could you ask Jimmy to drop off some jumper cables instead?I can handle it myself when I'm ready."

"Sure thing, Doc." Earl's smile is audible."I'll tell him to leave them in your mailbox."

After we hang up, I stand in the middle of Rosco's cabin, surrounded by evidence of our briefcohabitation.My notebooks are on the coffee table, my mug next to his on the counter, and my jacket hangs beside his spare on the hook by thedoor.I've already made myself athome.

For the first time in years, I don't have a clear research protocol to follow, no carefully constructed hypothesis totest.Just feelings, messy and complicated and frightening in theirintensity.

The rational part of me says toleave.To protect myself from more pain when this inevitably crashes and burnsagain.

But another part, the part that still remembers what it felt like to be loved by Rosco Stone, whispers tostay.To fight. To see if what's between us is strong enough to survive not just our past, but whatever future we mightbuild.

"What do you think, Bear?" I ask the dog, who tilts his headquizzically."Should I stay and see thisthrough?"

His tail thumps against the floor, which I choose to interpret asagreement.

"Alright then." I reach for my field notebook, flipping to a freshpage."Let's formulate a new research question: Can two stubborn people with complicated history find their way back to eachother?"

For the first time in my career, I'm terrified of theanswer.

Chapter

Six

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