Chapter 1 #2
I internally groan and fiddle with my gold stud nose ring. That draws his attention, and he offers me a tight-lipped smile.
“I’m fine. Was just leaving.” I give him a quick sarcastic salute and almost miss the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth that brightens the light already in his eyes.
“Have a good night, Miss.” He gives another foreign command, and the dog springs to stand at his side, giving me a good look at the olive-green vest with the words POLICE K-9 stamped across it.
Instinctively, I keep my eye on him, the dog that is, until I’ve moved around them both and am on the trail down to my car.
Mr. Ranger’s words about having a good night prompt me to pull out my cell phone and check the time. Damn. It’s almost 4:00 p.m.
I’m due at the diner at 6:30 p.m. for a short shift and I can’t be late. Mitch, my boss, originally didn’t have me scheduled for today, but Hannah called in saying her son was sick. I’ll take any extra hours I can get.
With the added pressure to get back to my car, I pick up the pace.
The trail winds its way down, narrowing as it descends through the tall pines and sun-dappled oaks.
I stumble again, cursing under my breath as loose gravel skates out from under me.
It’s rougher than I remember. Or maybe it’s my damn lack of traction making every step a fight.
The dirt crunches beneath my boots, and I inhale a saturating breath through my nose.
Quick patters thud behind me, the rhythmic beat growing louder. At a glance over my shoulder, the man’s dog barrels down the trail. “Damn it,” I hiss, jerking to the side.
He blows past in an energized blur of brown and tan fur.
Too focused on the large animal, I trip over a hidden root, face planting into the cool earth of rocks and pine needles.
What in the fresh hell?!
“Miss? Miss? Are you okay?” The ranger’s voice hovers above me, and I push up on my hands and knees to look up at him. His jaw is set, clenched, while he offers me a hand.
I raise my eyebrows and stand on my own. “I’m fine. Maybe you should control your dog.”
I glare at him—this ranger who thinks he and his dog are above the very law he’s authorized to enforce.
Did I mention I hate law enforcement? Always looking at themselves as better than everyone else because they hold a badge.
It feeds their pride when the car in front of them slows down to follow the speed limit just because they’re behind them.
Or when they sweep crimes under the rug because their reputation is on the line and they have the “power” to fix it.
“I apologize. Max has been working hard all day up here, and I figured I’d let him loose to blow off some steam.”
I look down the trail where the dog is panting in the middle of the pathway. “Max?” I sneer. Well, isn’t that the most cliché name for a dog.
“And I’m Officer Sullivan.” He smiles at me as I wipe my dusty hands off on my pants.
“I didn’t ask.”
“All right then.” He situates his ranger pack while the distant hum of a nearby stream mingles with the chirping birds.
I study him for a moment—the subtle definition of the muscles beneath his fleece zip-up. His movements are slower, deliberate and fluid, balancing an all too typical confidence. The golden tone of his face complements a pair of strong dark brows, which are raised as if he’s surprised I’m staring.
“Aren’t rangers supposed to wear those funky-looking bowl hats and those green uniforms?”
He laughs, and it’s annoying, full-bodied, and infectious—like it comes from deep in his chest. “I was up at a ranger station. Usually, I wear more comfortable gear when Max and I are out for the day.”
I consider that for a moment, giving him a restrained nod. “Welp, see ya.” Turning, I scuffle away, his chuckle meeting my ears from behind. When I make it to where Max stands waiting for his partner, I slow, scooting around him.
Unfortunately, Ranger Sullivan and Max follow me the entire way, several steps behind.
Hell. They’ve slowed their pace to accommodate mine, and they could go around me.
In fact, I’d much prefer it. I don’t look back.
Each mile down is frustrating, and instead of taking in the last of the park for the day, I’m preoccupied with the thundering pair behind me.
Eventually, the trail flattens out, opening into a small clearing where the parking lot comes into view.
Two cars are there, my beat-up 1990 Ford Taurus wagon and a pristine white pickup truck with the words U.S.
PARK RANGER plastered on the side of the cab and LAW ENFORCEMENT gleaming on the side of the bed in a streak of forest green.
It’s stupid I locked a car like mine, but it’s all I have. My entire life is in this car, literally. I remove my backpack and toss it to the ground, bending down to search the tiny pockets for my keys. Max and his owner come crashing through the trailhead, and I ignore them, opening my door.
Ranger dude opens the back door to his truck and gestures inside while ushering another foreign command.
Max obeys immediately, leaps onto the seat, and sits ramrod straight.
The ranger pulls out a bowl and cracks open a water bottle to pour in there.
He sets it on the seat next to the dog, apparently not concerned it may slosh all over, then shuts the door.
In that annoying calm demeanor, he raises a hand in my direction. “Have a good night.”
I shake my head and slide into my seat to watch his truck pull out of the lot.
When it disappears, I exhale and slump back.
Reaching over to the passenger side floorboard, I yank up the gallon jug of water I filled for free at work.
Then I fumble around for something to pour my water in.
My hand lands on my glass measuring cup and I shrug, setting it on the console to pour exactly one cup of water.
In several gulps, I down it, parched from my hike.
I tuck the jug onto the floor, and pull out my vape pen, rolling it around in my palm. With such an old car, I’ve had to get charger cables that convert to the cigarette lighter, and it’s become too complicated. Apparently worth it, though, because I plug it in anyway.
Hooked up and charging, I glance at my phone. An hour. That’s all the time I have to weave out of here and make it to the gym for a shower. Unfortunately, the arrow on my fuel gauge hovers on E, and I cringe at the idea I need to fill up my car.
There’s very little I spend money on. Gas, a season pass to the national park I’m working near, and the ten dollars for a monthly gym membership.
For food, I go as cheap as possible and gravitate toward jobs in the food service industry to take advantage of extra food. At the diner I’m working at now, Mitch usually hooks me up with a to-go box of grilled cheese or leftover pancakes at the end of each shift.
Clothes, handbags, jewelry—none of that matters to me. I take care of my basic hygiene and call it good. The exception is the red-violet boxed hair dye I buy to do my highlights.
I peek in the review mirror at the grown-out strips of burgundy hair nestled in with dark brown.
My parents always said I was like the hybrid of both my older brothers.
Hair a darker shade of brown than Adam’s, but hazel eyes lighter than my oldest brother, Liam.
Even though I haven’t seen my family in years, I can still see them, each of them vivid in my mind. I fight the pit of pain in my chest.
I chew my thumbnail as I drive off, willing my car to make it to the nearest gas station. I go over my work schedule for the coming days in my head, factoring in the next time I can hike again. Despite the interruption of Mr. Ranger, I’d found a great spot to write, and next time …
I’ll yank the monsters from my head and splatter them on paper.