Page 16 of Grumped By the Mountain Man

“She told me what she wanted.”

“Three years ago. People grow and change.”

“That’s exactly what Ayla said an hour ago.”

“But did you ask her to clarify?”

No.

Maybe Cali has a point. I thought I could live without telling Ayla my feelings because I assumed I knew what she wanted. But in assuming, aren’t I already like Dad in a way? He and Sherry had tons of miscommunication because of assumptions. Assumptions that could’ve been cleared up with simple questions on both their parts.

What if my assumptions about Cali simply aren’t true anymore? What if I’m trying to free someone that isn’t trapped? What if I’m over-projecting?

“I’ve got to find her first,” I say finally.

“I love you, Jax.”

I can tell she’s smiling from her tone.

“Love you, Cal.”

As I hang up, something Cal says comes flooding back to me. She probably ran to the closest shelter. I already know that has to be the forest, but maybe I’m searching the wrong parts of it.

Spinning the truck around, I drive back to the porch and then look directly across from it. There’s a stretch of forest that Mochi and I sometimes took as a shortcut if we were going on a walk down the main road. Why hadn’t I thought of that sooner? Unbuckling my seatbelt, I’m about to throw open the car door when Mochi’s suddenly at my elbow.

“No way,” I say, pushing him back gently. “I can’t risk my second baby potentially getting hurt too. You stay here. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Mochi whines, but I ignore him. It’s already my fault Ayla’s potentially injured. I can’t let Mochi get hurt too.

Running from the truck, I take several hits to my back and shoulders, as chunks of ice pummel me. One hailstone clips my ear and makes it ring as I dive into the forest line. The trees' canopies act as enough of a barrier to shield me from the mauling but my sigh of relief is short-lived when I see a stripe of emerald green fabric.

“Ayla?”

“J-Jaxon?” She turns toward me, her face twisted in pain. Her right hand clutches her left ankle, her other arm, pressed tight against her chest as if she’s terrified to move it.

“Don’t move,” I tell her as she tries to reach for me. “I’ve got you.” I don’t want her to make anything worse than it already is. Bending down, I scoop her into my arms, as I visually check her face and neck which are thankfully bruise-free. Her shin’s another story. Blood trickles from a nasty scrap and the way her foot dangles tells me it’s twisted. I just pray it’s not broken.

“Jaxon I’m-”

“Don’t talk, just rest,” I tell her, my heart slamming into overdrive. The nearest clinic is an hour away and the driveway is already packed with hail a foot deep. It’ll melt fast, but there’s no way we’re getting out of here anytime soon.

Ayla stares from me to the porch, as I wait at the forest’s perimeter.

“You can put me down until the hail stops,” she says, but I don’t budge.

“I already lost sight of you once. I’m not risking it again.”

“My ankle’s twisted. It’s not like I can run off.”

“When you’re out of my arms anything can happen,” I say, meeting her gaze. I know it’s irrational, but if I hold her tight against my chest, nothing else can happen to her.

She’s shivering, her bare legs covered in goosebumps and blackening pockmarks where the hail hit her. I squeeze my eyes shut before looking away. If I wasn’t such a jerk she wouldn’t have been so desperate to get away from me.

We stay frozen in place until the sound of falling hail eases from a brutal onslaught to an occasional thud. Curling my body over hers protectively, I crunch over the ice and up to the porch. With her good hand, Ayla opens the front door and I settle her on the chaise on the couch.

“I have to get Mochi,” I say when I release her reluctantly. “Don’t move.”

“I won’t,” she mumbles, her teeth still chattering. “L-lesson learned.”

---