Lost with the Mountain Man

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

JESSAMY

“ T his was a mistake,” Beau mutters, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.

His breath fogs up the glass, and I can see him straining forward, squinting into the void where the road should be, but the snow is falling too hard, too fast. The darkness swallows everything. Even our headlights feel weak, flickering against the storm like a dying flashlight.

“Are you sure this wasn’t in the forecast?” he asks.

“For the dozenth time, yes!” My voice is sharp, cutting through the tense silence inside the car. “There was no freak snowstorm in the forecast today.”

“For Kiss County?” His voice is thick with frustration.

I turn and glare at him, barely able to make out the lines of his jaw in the dim glow from the dashboard. “Of course,” I snap. “For Kiss County.”

“Not home?”

I shoot him a look that could melt the snow.

“I’m just clarifying, Jess,” he says in that maddeningly calm tone, like he’s trying to soothe a child. But it only makes my pulse quicken, heat rising to my face despite the cold seeping in through every crack of the car.

“Is that really how you think of me?” I ask. “That I’d be dumb enough to check the weather at home, but not for where we’re going?”

“I didn’t say that. And no, I don’t think you’re that dumb.”

“Just a little dumb, right?”

Beau sighs, the sound low beneath the relentless drumming of snow on the roof. He lets go of the wheel long enough to run a hand through his dark blond hair before grabbing it again to stop the car from veering off the road.

I sigh, too. This isn’t why we came here. Not to tear each other down. Not to break us apart even further.

We came here to save our marriage.

Pointless.

I turn my gaze back to the window, staring into the swirling white and black abyss. The road ahead has vanished, nothing but a thick blanket of snow and the icy wind howling like a warning. Even the GPS gave up, recalculating every few seconds until we muted it in frustration.

Now we’re just... lost.

“Maybe we should turn back,” I suggest, my voice quieter now. “Try to make it to that ski lodge we passed earlier.”

Beau doesn’t argue. He slows the car, searching for a spot to turn around. My eyes dart to the narrow lanes, snow piling up faster than we can drive. The road looks like a death trap, barely wide enough for one car, let alone two.

I pull my coat tighter around me; the chill seeping into my bones. I can’t shake the sense that we’re being swallowed whole by Tall Mountain itself.

“Be careful, Beau,” I say, tension coiling tight in my chest.

“I am,” he answers, his voice strained.

But as the car turns, the wheels skid, slipping on the icy surface.

My heart leaps into my throat. “Beau!”

“Jessamy, I’ve got this!” he snaps, his frustration matching mine.

My stomach churns as the car slides again, the tires spinning uselessly. We’re rolling, drifting toward the edge of the mountain.

Panic claws up my throat. “Beau, we’re?—”

“I know!” He presses harder on the brake, but it doesn’t matter. “It won’t stop.”

“Beau—”

“What?”

“I love you.”

The words tumble out, sudden and raw. It feels like a begging plea, not a statement, because in this moment, I realize it’s been too long since I’ve heard him say it back.

And, at this moment, I really need to hear him say it back.

His blue eyes snap to mine, wide with something I haven’t seen in years—surprise, maybe even fear. Eight years together, five married. I’ve said it thousands of times. But not like this.

Not like it’s the last time.

Beau takes my hand, his fingers warm against my icy skin. We hold on to each other, unable to stop the inevitable as the car slides off the road and down. Down.

Down.

I squeeze my eyes shut, gripping his hand like it’s the only thing tethering me to life. There’s a scream of metal as we crash through a barrier of trees. With my breath held, I wait for more. I wait for the inevitable sound of breaking glass. Of pain. I suspect this will hurt very much.

We jerk to a halt. My stomach twists from the change in momentum. I keep my grip on my Beau, tears springing to my eyes as I wait and wait. And wait.

“Jessamy,” Beau whispers.

I peek through one eye, and my stomach turns all over again. “Oh, god…”

We’re dangling on the edge of the mountain; the car caught between two trees. The wind howls outside, wrapping around the car like a predator sizing up its prey.

But we’re alive. For now.

“Jess,” Beau breathes. “Don’t move.”

“I won’t,” I manage, my throat tight with terror. Every muscle in my body is frozen, afraid that the smallest shift will send us plummeting.

Beau inches his hand toward my seatbelt. “I’m going to release your?—”

“No!” I jerk in my seat. The car lurches under the movement. “Don’t move, Beau!”

His face is pale, but determined. “Jess, we can’t just sit here and wait to fall. I’m going to release your belt, then you’ll climb out. Get back to the road and go get help. Okay?”

“But what about you?” I choke out, panic rising with every second. The car creaks ominously, shifting under the weight of the snow and gravity. “Beau, what about you?”

The car tilts, groaning under the strain. The tree won’t hold us much longer. I yelp, grabbing his hand again, my nails digging into his skin. Tears blur my vision, and I can’t breathe.

“Beau…”

“It’s okay, Jess,” he says, his voice steady, even though I can see the fear in his blue eyes.

Then—a knock. A sharp, deliberate sound that cuts through the storm.

We freeze, then turn to look out the back window. A figure stands there, the shape visible through the swirling snow.

I scream, my heart leaping into my throat.

They press a gloved hand against the window, and then, just as suddenly, they disappear into the storm.

“What the fuck was that?” I gasp, my chest heaving.

“I... don’t know,” Beau mutters, his brow furrowed. “Bigfoot?”

“Bigfoot?!”

Before we can process what’s happening, there’s a grinding noise beneath us, metal on metal, followed by a sudden jolt. The car shifts again, but this time... we’re moving backward.

Slowly, the car rolls back up the mountain; the trees receding as we crawl upward, inch by inch.

“They’re winching us out,” Beau says, relief flooding his voice with laughter. “Oh, thank Christ!”

I clutch the armrest, my heart frozen solid as we’re dragged up the hill. At the top, the outline of a truck looms through the storm, and that same shadowy figure stands by the bumper.

Once on solid ground, the man approaches the driver’s side window. Beau rolls it down, squinting into the whirlwind of snow.

A face with dark yet kind eyes framed by a wild black beard dusted with white peeks in, his lips forming an amused smile.

“You folks look like you could use some help,” he says, his deep voice rumbling through the storm.