Page 3 of The Silent Mountain Man

I can't do anything. I have to accept my fate. Maybe todayisthe day Eddie Boyd meets his maker.

27 club, room for one more?

With the ground convulsing underneath me, my life flashes before my eyes.

Summers with Pa.

The first time I scored the lead on a major advertising campaign.

One of the few good birthdays I had, when I was four, maybe five years old, before Mom and Dad split up.

The rush I got riding my first roller coaster. I freaked out the whole time because I stood on my tippy-toes to make the required height limit, and I was convinced I would fall out and plummet to my death the second we looped upside down.

My first kiss.

I let out a gasp at the memory before an unguarded sob escapes me.

Princess.

That's not his name, but that's what I called him. The free-spirited, long-haired guy who lived down the road from Pa that fateful summer after I graduated from high school.

I was deep in an emo phase, and I went all in. I'm talking dying my hair black, getting piercings—thanks to a fake ID—wearing nothing but black, the whole shebang.

Whereas Michael, that was his name, was the same age as me, but he was…he was wild and free and gorgeous. With the most incredible smile. Loved an adventure. The only person I've ever met in my whole life who talked more than I did, which is really saying something.

And he had the most intense stare. His eyes would narrow, and it made everything else in the world disappear. I'll never forget it. I'll never forgethim, and I know that for a fact, because despite years passing, I still think about him. A lot.

He made me feel seen. Like I mattered even though I had no idea who I was or what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

By that age, I was too old for boy scout adventures with Pa, so I hung out with Michael every day. We'd go swimming in the lake, explore the caves, and one late afternoon, with the sun setting in the distance and our legs dangling off the cliff's edge, I had my first kiss. It was…magical.

And we did this thing, I can't remember who started it, I think it might have been me, actually, but we did this thing where we wrote each other letters and left them in the mailbox for the other one to pick up first thing in the morning.

It may sound schmaltzy and kind of silly, but it wasn't. It was real.

That summer, I had my first love.

Swiftly followed by my first heartbreak.

Andthat'swhy I hate the mountains.

Not only did I get my heart broken here, I've also never found anyone who's come close to making me feel what Michael did.

Now he's gone, and so is Pa, and I'm all alone.

But I'm… I'm still alive.

I glance around, snapping back to reality. The ground has stopped shaking. "Holy shit, I've survived."

I push myself up to a seated position. My newly paid-off car, along with a good chunk of the mountainside, is gone.

"I can't believe I got out of there."

What was that voice, that feeling, that impulse I had to get the hell out of my car? I have no idea, but it literally saved my life. I'd be a goner if I'd stayed put.

It's still raining, but I've gotten used to it now. I tilt my head back, looking up at the sky, the droplets coming down on my face. "Thanks, God. Owe you one."

I readjust how I'm sitting and notice my cell phone next to me. "And thank god I had the sense to take you with me."

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