Page 3 of Wild Eyes
Her terrified golden eyes search mine again and I can smell something sweet on her breath as she pants nervously into the air between us. Tangerine and sugar.
“Can we make it to your truck?”
I can barely hear her over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. “We’re not close enough and I don’t like our odds of outrunning a grizzly.”
“Okay.” She licks her lips nervously and I watch a stray tear leak out of one eye. It rolls down over her temple before trailing toward her ear. I trace the wet path with my gaze before meeting hers and giving her my full attention, conveying an outward sense of calm that doesn’t necessarily match the way I’m feeling inside.
More tears leak out as we stare at each other.
“I’m sorry.” Her choked sob hits me hard in the chest.
I can hear the bear huffing as it draws within mere feet of us. I swear the ground trembles beneath the weight of its steps. Lighter footsteps thump from lower down in the ditch. And I assume those are the cubs.
My thumb rubs soft, slow circles over the crown of her head. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re just gonna be quiet together and then everything is going to be okay.” I whisper the words to her, but I say them for myself.
She blinks in recognition, and I blink back. Then I distract myself by counting the swirling hues of her irises. Brown, gold, green, and a delicate gray woven between them. Minimum four colors.
And even covered in a sheen of tears, they glow.
I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten this lost in a perfect stranger’s eyes.
“Tell me it’s going to be okay again.” The words are a breath, weaving into the hush of her long exhale. Even this close, I barely hear them.
The tips of our noses brush as my face slants down over hers. My lips move silently against the skin on her cheek as I mouth the words,It’s going to be okay.
I’ve done a lot of wild shit in my day. Done a few things that I’m surprised to have survived, if I’m being honest. But in those moments, I’d always been alone. There’s something about lying this damn close to another person, knowing she could be the last thing I see, that makes everything around us stand still.
Shit, maybe I’m just getting old and sentimental.
Then I feel the hot, damp breath of the grizzly as it sniffs the back of my neck. An eerie sense of calm settles over me, even though it shouldn’t. I’m calmer than I have any right to be. It’s as though my body knows that giving into my own rising anxiety won’t help.
Because while I may have seen my fair share of bears growing up in Rose Hill, I have yet to feel one breathing down my neck. To be frank, it’s an experience I could have done without.
But there’s no time for me to wallow in my anxiety. I have to remain composed for Skylar. So I keep my eyes locked on hers, willing her to stay still and in the moment with me even though she’s clearly so far out of her element that she’s on another planet.
Her lips part, and her breaths come fast and frantic. She clamps her eyes shut. I can smell the bear, so I’m sure she can too.
All sweat and musk and old gym shoes. It’s overpowering. It’s a combination I’ll never forget.
The sun beats down on my back, and the heat of the bear’s enormous body beside me makes the moment downright stifling. I rest my forehead against hers and try to regulate her breathing with my own.
Three seconds in.
Three seconds out.
Soon, the heat feels more bearable. The heart-pounding clatter of nails aren’t as loud. The stench, less overpowering. Therustling from the ditch dissipates, and I assume the cubs have followed mom away too.
Skylar squirms a little and peeks up at me from beneath her thick lashes. “Did you see the babies? They’re so cute.”
I roll my forehead against hers as I stifle a laugh, wondering how I constantly end up in the orbit of women who are this atrocious at following simple instructions—even when their lives depend on it. “Let’s stay quiet” is all I respond with.
I’m not sure how long we lie on the ground breathing in and out together. Five minutes? Ten minutes? Long enough that her knuckles must be cramping from clutching at my shirt. Her entire body is still trembling uncontrollably, so I smooth my hand over her hair to ease her shaking.
Logically, I know the bear has moved on, but I still feel like I could glance up and come face-to-face with it.
So I stay in place, stroking this woman’s head and trying to get my bearings before I make a move to stand up.
To lighten the moment, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I saw the results of a survey recently that said six percent of Americans think they could beat a grizzly bear in hand-to-hand combat.”
