Page 17 of Found By the Mountain Man
Connor
Thecabinfeelslikea tomb without her.
I've been sitting in my chair for the past two hours, staring at the couch where she slept, where we made love, where she challenged every assumption I've made about my life for the past five years. The fire is dying, but I can't bring myself to add another log. Can't bring myself to do anything but sit here and catalogue everything I've lost.
The coffee mug she used is still in the sink. Her scent lingers on the pillow. The impression of her body is still visible in the couch cushions, like a ghost of what could have been.
I'm forty-three years old, and I'm sitting in my cabin mourning a woman I've known for three days like she was the love of my life.
The hell of it is, she might have been.
My radio crackles from the kitchen counter, Jake's voice cutting through the silence. "Connor, you copy?"
I consider ignoring it. I'm officially off duty until tomorrow, and right now I don't trust myself to sound professional.
"Connor, come in. We've got a situation."
I grab the radio, forcing my voice to sound normal. "Copy, Jake. What's happening?"
"It's your photographer. She checked out of the lodge about twenty minutes ago, and said she was driving back to Calgary tonight to catch an early flight tomorrow."
My blood runs cold. "In this weather?"
"That's the problem. Weather service just issued another advisory. Snow's moving back in, heavier than predicted. Highway patrol is recommending against non-essential travel."
I'm already moving toward the window, looking out at the sky. Sure enough, the clouds are building again, and I can see the first fat snowflakes starting to fall.
"Where is she now?" I ask, grabbing my keys and jacket.
"Last we heard, she was heading up toward the pass. Connor, if she gets caught in this storm..."
He doesn't need to finish. I know those roads better than anyone. In good weather, they're challenging. In a sudden snowstorm, with a driver unfamiliar with mountain conditions? They're deadly.
"I'm going after her," I say, already heading for the door.
"Connor, wait. Let us coordinate a proper search."
"There's no time," I cut him off. "If she's already on the highway and this storm hits full force, she could end up stuck in a drift or worse. I know the route she'd take. I can find her."
I don't wait for his response. I'm out the door and starting my truck, my mind already calculating routes and timing. If she left twenty minutes ago and is driving carefully, she'd be about fifteen miles up the highway by now. If the storm hits as hard as Jake thinks it will...
I push the truck as hard as I dare on the snow-covered roads, my headlights cutting through the increasing snowfall. This is insane. Driving into a storm to chase after a woman who's probably better off getting as far away from me as possible.
But the thought of her stranded somewhere, cold and alone and possibly hurt, makes my stomach turn. I can survive her leaving. I can't survive losing her to these mountains.
The snow is coming down harder now, thick flakes that stick to my windshield faster than the wipers can clear them. I reach the highway and turn north, following the route toward Calgary, my eyes scanning for any sign of a small rental car.
Ten miles. Fifteen. My radio crackles with weather updates that get progressively worse. Visibility dropping. Roads becoming treacherous. All non-essential travel suspended.
Where the hell is she?
Twenty miles out, I spot taillights ahead, barely visible through the storm. A car pulled over on the shoulder, hazard lights blinking weakly through the snow. As I get closer, I can make out the shape of a small sedan, nearly buried in the rapidly accumulating drifts.
My heart stops. It's her.
I pull over behind her car and grab my emergency kit, fighting through the wind and snow to reach her driver's side window. She's inside, talking on her phone, and when she sees me approaching, her eyes go wide with shock.
She rolls down the window as I reach her. "Connor? What are you doing here?"
