Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
HAILEY
The gravel of the path crunches beneath my boots as I hike deeper into the woods, immersing myself in the shadowy greens of the pine trees soaring above me.
The sound of my steps mingles with the faint birdsong coming from above, the crisp autumn breeze ruffling the leaves and branches.
Somewhere nearby, a stream babbles softly.
Normally, nature soothes me. I hike these woods and the surrounding mountain trails on a weekly basis, finding my sense of peace and calm within them.
But not today. Today, all I can think about is the sight of Beau Cameron—my dad’s best friend and the object of my pathetic pining for far too long—sitting at a small bistro table with a beautiful woman I’ve never seen before.
I can still see the way the candlelight flickered over their faces, the way he smiled at her, lines fanning out around his green eyes.
In all the time I’ve known him, Beau has never smiled at me like that. And why would he? I’m his best friend’s kid. A little girl in his eyes, despite the fact that I’m a university grad now working full time as a project manager at my dad’s construction company
A branch creaks above me, and I slow my steps, glancing up and taking in the riot of colour that makes up the forest canopy.
Fiery reds, brilliant yellows, and cozy oranges brush together, weaving a pretty autumnal tapestry overhead.
Fall has always been my favourite season.
The colours, the cooler weather, Halloween, the sheer coziness of it.
I’m a homebody, through and through, and fall is the time when I can nestle in.
I like when it starts to get dark early because it’s an excuse to cozy in at home.
I wish I’d been more of a homebody last night. If I hadn’t gone to the bistro to pick up a dessert to go, I never would’ve seen Beau on a date. I wouldn’t have spent the night tossing and turning, my stomach in knots, my heart a painful lump in my chest.
I have to face reality: Beau Cameron will never be mine. He’ll never want me the way I want him. He’ll never see me as anything other than Logan Armstrong’s kid.
My eyes sting, and I blink furiously, trying to stem the tears. I cried enough last night. I cried so much that my eyes still feel puffy and raw this morning. My throat hurts.
I force myself to suck in a deep breath, pulling the crisp forest air into my lungs. I’m not out here to cry. I’m out here to get myself together.
I let my steps guide me up a familiar path, weak sunshine breaking through the clouds above and painting a dappled picture of light and shadow on the forest floor. The wind picks up slightly, a chill ghosting over my cheeks.
I walk and walk, leaves crunching, breath sawing in and out of my lungs, my thoughts swirling and swirling. Overhead, clouds start to obscure the sun, and I don’t mind. The slight gloom matches my mood. Matches the heaviness in my chest. Can I outhike jealousy? Can I outhike the way my heart aches?
I’m determined to find out.
I hike farther and farther along the trail, only stopping for water before powering onward. Maybe if I exhaust myself, if I drench myself in nature, I’ll somehow stop hurting so damn much.
But try as I might, the thoughts won’t stop.
Beau will never be yours.
You’re just a silly girl with an even sillier crush.
Beau loves someone else, someone better. Someone older who’s actually done something with her life.
Beau doesn’t love you. Beau will never love you.
But then, as usual, my thoughts about Beau slowly morph from maudlin to straight up horny.
I call up the memory of him shirtless at the lake last summer, his massive body roped with muscle, his skin covered in tattoos.
He’s a beast of a man—at least 6’5, probably over 250 pounds with arms and legs like tree trunks—with short, dark hair threaded through with gray and a neatly groomed beard that I’m desperate to feel between my thighs.
I want to climb into his lap and let him solve all of my problems. I want to be his good girl and take care of him in every single way. I want to have his massive babies and make a home with him. A life.
But it’s all just a foolish, silly fantasy. Clearly.
I don’t know how much time has gone by when I stop, leaning against the trunk of a towering pine, sweat beading along my hairline, lungs heaving, thoughts no less tangled.
The sky has grown darker, the light gray of the earlier clouds giving way to a deeper, angrier purple.
Wind blows through the trees, sending colourful leaves spiraling to the ground.
Another gust follows it, making the branches overhead clack together.
“Shit,” I breathe, chugging some more water. I hear a faint pattering sound, and I grimace. It’s raindrops on the leafy canopy above.
I’d been so eager to get out on the trails that I’d seen the sun shining and headed out.
I hadn’t thought to check the weather for later in the day.
I check my watch, grimacing again. I also hadn’t planned to hike for so long.
I glance around, orienting myself. I’m still on the same trailhead, marked with light blue strips of paint.
I pull out my phone, praying for a signal, enough to check the weather forecast so I can make a plan.
Should I try to hike out, knowing that the rain will pass, or should I try to find shelter somewhere?
No signal. Not even a measly half bar. I hold my phone above my head, pacing away from the tree as I sweep my arm back and forth.
But it’s useless. I head back to the pine, taking shelter against its thick trunk as the rain starts to fall a bit harder.
I still have my Garmin InReach, but I’m reluctant to use it for two reasons.
One: Beau gave it to me for Christmas last year, insisting I keep it charged and with me whenever I hike.
Two: It works as a two-way radio, and guess who’s on the other end? The man who gave it to me, of course.
Of course.
I shove the InReach into my jacket pocket, slip my hood up, and start to hike back out. I’m not going to radio Beau. That’s the last thing I want to do. This is fine. Everything is fine.
Thunder rolls in the distance, echoing off the mountains and reverberating through the trees, making the leaves above tremble. The rain starts to fall harder in large, ice cold drops that sting my face.
“Shit,” I hiss, my feet moving faster on the slickening path.
Another crack of thunder sounds, this one much closer, and I jump, my heart pounding hard and fierce against my ribs.
I close my fingers around the InReach in my pocket, playing tug of war with myself as I practically jog down the trail.
The wind is starting to howl, branches smacking into each other above.
All the birdsong has stopped, and the only sounds I can hear are my own jagged breathing, the pounding of rain against the forest floor, and the wind.
I’m utterly alone out here.
I keep going, letting the adrenaline that comes with fear push me forward, and I come to a break in the forest, the canopy opening up enough for me to get a better picture of the sky. Shielding my eyes against the slanting rain, I look up, trying to gauge the size and severity of the storm.
In every direction, all I can see are churning purplish gray clouds, low and heavy. They’re moving fast because of the wind, but I don’t see an end to the storm any time soon.
“Fuck. Fuck!” I say, first in irritation, and then again as the rain starts to slap me in the face, so cold it feels like little razor blades.
I need to find shelter. Where I am right now isn’t safe.
A branch could fall on me, and with lightning flashing, I want to get to a lower elevation to minimize my risk.
My best bet is to find a dense grove of trees and take shelter there.
Where I am now, the trees are spread out enough that they won’t provide enough shelter or protection from the storm, or from a possible lightning strike.
Bracing myself against the storm, I continue down the path, which is becoming more and more treacherous with each passing second.
The gravel slips and shifts dangerously beneath my boots, and when a violent gust of wind barrels into me, I fall forward as my ankle twists.
Gravel cuts into my palms, but my hands are so cold that I barely feel it.
My knees, however, are now shrieking, gravel embedded in the small rip that’s opened up on my left leg, and my ankle is throbbing angrily.
I try to push to my feet, but my boots slip in the mud, and I struggle for purchase.
Thunder booms overhead, shaking the forest right down to the floor, and real, genuine terror grips me.
I could die out here. If I don’t get hit with a falling branch, or slip and hit my head, or get hit by lightning, I’m so cold and wet that I know I’m at risk of hypothermia.
My breaths rasp in my chest as I struggle to my feet, managing to get upright despite the aching protest in my ankle.
I’m shaking now, and I can’t tell if it’s from the cold, the fear, or a combination of both.
My heartbeat thrashes wildly in my ears as I try to fight back the rising panic.
The sky lights up, pure white piercing through the gray.
For one endless second, the raindrops are lit up in stark relief against the stormy sky, the trees nothing but monstrous silhouettes as lightning streaks above me.
Thunder booms almost instantly afterward, indicating just how close the storm is. It’s right on top of me.