Page 36 of Broken on the Mountain
Me:Me too.
I pour myself a glass of wine. Cheap Pinot Noir in a plastic 'glass' because I'm feeling rebellious, then curl up on my sofa with the wildflower guide.
Then I text Brooke.
Me:I booked a flight for Friday. Mom's already on my case. Please make sure I don't chicken out.
Brooke:If you chicken out, I will physically drag you to the airport myself. Jamie has a helicopter, and I'm not afraid to use it.
Me:That's kidnapping.
Brooke:That's friendship. See you Friday, babe.
I sip my wine and flip through wildflower pages, reading Chase's margin notes. His handwriting is everywhere.Identifying flowers, marking trails, adding little observations that make me smile.
Page 82: Knox says these are poisonous. Don't eat them. (Why would you eat them? I don't know. Knox is weird like that.)
I laugh out loud in my empty, lonely penthouse.
Then I find the red gummy bear I saved. The last one from the packet he gave me at breakfast on our first morning. I've been carrying it around like a talisman, too precious to eat.
I pop it in my mouth and let the sugar dissolve on my tongue.
Outside, Chicago glitters and hums and demands I pay attention to its magnificence. But I'm already thinking about Friday.
I fall asleep on my sofa, wrapped in his flannel, the wildflower guide open on my chest.
And for the first time in years, my beautiful cage feels less like a prison and more like a place I'm visiting.
Until I can go home.
Chapter Eight
Chase
This has been the longest week of my life.
Time has crawled to a snail's pace since Piper walked through airport security wearing my flannel and those hiking boots that made her long legs even more delicious.
The week has dragged like a bad rope burn. I've filled every hour with movement and activity, anything to keep from checking my phone every thirty seconds like some lovesick teenager.
Monday, thankfully I had double shift at the station. I restocked medical supplies until Knox physically removed the inventory clipboard from my hands and told me to 'go home before you wear the fucking bandages.'
I woke up early on Tuesday, right before dawn to hike to Silver Falls again. As the sun rose, I stood exactly where Piper stumbled, where I caught her, where everything inside my head shifted.
Timber Tavern was Wednesday's distraction with the guys. After my shift at the station, Travis bought a round, Charlie made comments about 'that pretty nurse coming back,' and I pretended the whiskey was the reason I was so quiet.
We had a rescue call on Thursday. A lost hiker with a badly twisted ankle, but even that was a routine extraction. I worked the ropes while my brain replayed Piper's voice from our call that morning—exhausted, frustrated, telling me about some dinner her mother ambushed her with the night before.
Some guy named Maxwell was there.
But at least she sent me a photo of the dress she wore.
Mom's insisting I wear this tomorrow night. Thoughts?
My thoughts involved peeling that dress off her so slowly she'd forget her own name, let alone whatever fancy event required it. I excused myself from the station common room when she sent it, found the bathroom, and took care of the situation with my hand and some very vivid imagination.
Now… now it's Friday.
