2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Bella
Deep breath, Bella. You got this.
As a motivational speech, it's terrible, but I can't think with my stomach churning like it's in a washing machine. I swallow hard and adjust my backpack for the fifth time. How does anyone find these things comfortable?
Blowing out a frustrated sigh, I shuffle up to the rest of the group meeting at the trailhead. There must be a dozen people. The only one I recognize is Mr. Russo because he's one of the regular customers at Layered Love, the bakery my friend, Harmony, owns. The rest look like seasoned hikers. Several older couples are in a tight group swapping trail stories, and a gangly teen is looking through maps from the display stand.
I shift from one foot to the other and wrap my arms around my waist. The movement makes my new boots squeak, and the thin blonde in hot pink Spandex ahead of me gives me an odd look over her shoulder.
Nothing to see here. Just a librarian out for a hike.
What am I doing?
I don't belong with this group of people who look like they stepped out of a hiking catalog. Outdoors is not my thing. I've lived in White Falls my whole life and never hiked. Harmony actually giggled when I told her about this plan. Even she knows this is a bad idea. I bite my lip. My old sedan is parked in the gravel lot nearby. I could be back home in half an hour.
Except it took everything I had to show up. If I leave now, I’ll never try again. And something has to change. I have to change.
I stare at the thick clouds in the sky and try to pull myself together. This is for me.
A few days ago, my last single friend got engaged. I’m happy for her, of course. But it made me realize how different I am. I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve been shy my whole life and sort of faded into the background. It’s an excellent trait for a librarian. Not so much for my social life.
When I saw the posting for this hike on the social board at the library, it seemed the perfect way to try something new. I’m done being overlooked. Boring Bella Brown, who no one ever notices, will soon be a distant memory. New Bella goes on adventures and challenges herself. She hikes and... does other adventurous things. She’s talkative, and brave, and memorable . Ugh. And talks to herself in third person.
Hitching my backpack higher, I set my shoulders and get ready. I've got this.
A sharp burst of radio static crackles behind me, making me jump.
“—convict. With the pending storm, state troopers are setting up roadblocks to the south. Residents are requested—”
Uh…did that just say convict?
I turn to see a man striding up the gravel toward our group. Tall, broad shouldered, with dark hair, and wearing a black fleece that does nothing to hide his muscled chest. He turns the radio down and strides right through our group like the alpha of the pack. The gangly teen with the maps follows, a load of them in his arms. He trips on his own foot and pitches forward, dropping half of the pamphlets.
I squat down to help pick them up.
“Thanks,” he says, cheeks flushing a dark red. He sweeps a lock of brown hair off his forehead. The name “Dillon” is embroidered on the black fleece hanging on his frame. “I'm glad Bishop didn't see that.”
“Bishop?”
“You don't know him?” He asks a little too loudly, nodding toward the powerfully built man standing at the front of the trailhead talking to Mr. Russo.
The Spandex blonde gives me another dark look, and this time I realize there are two of them. She has a matching friend. They’re Spandex twins.
“He runs the Hollow Point Mountain Rescue team. He's only like the most badass man on the planet. The dude roped down to rescue a hiker who'd fallen off the north precipice, then carried him three miles to the nearest rescue station during a storm.” Dillon's eyes glaze a little as he talks, like he’s imagining what such feats of herculean strength must be like. He shuffles the maps in his hands, then mumbles, “Bet he never drops them in the dirt.”
“You're right,” I whisper. “It’s probably mud.” Dillon shoots me a grateful smile.
“Did that radio alert say ‘convict’?” If there is a killer running around these woods, I’m going home. I’ve seen horror movies. The hikers always die first.
There are limits to my bravery—like dying .
Dillon’s eyes light up with excitement. “Yeah. Dude’s like a bank robber or something. I bet he’s looking for his loot.” His smile dims. “But they said he’s heading south.”
“So we’re safe?”
“Unfortunately.” Dillon sees Bishop waving to him and hurries forward to pass out the maps.
I want to go home. But that’s old Bella talking. I came out here for the challenge. To be different . If only the knot in my stomach would go away.
Bishop gives us a brief safety talk about not leaving the trail and paying attention to the map.
“This one,” Dillon says, handing me one. Each trail is a different color on the map, twisting around each other as the paths cross.
How do people figure out which one they're on? I'm about to ask Dillon when Bishop brings up bears.
“Oh.” I hadn't thought about bears.
“Bears are easy. Like if it's a black bear, whatever you do, don't play dead. You gotta crab-walk sideways, like this.” He spreads his arms kind of wide, walking sideways and almost trips on one of the hikers.
“Dillon.” Bishop barks.
“And don't feed them. If you do, they like peanut butter. But don't.”
“ Dillon. ”
“Maps. Got it. Passing them out now.” He hands a second one to the older man beside us.
Bishop shakes his head slightly. “Stay on the trail and you shouldn't see any bears,” he says, scanning our group. His eyes skip right over me and linger on the Spandex twins. “Pay attention to the weather. The most recent report says the storm is moving in fast. If you see the clouds get darker, turn your asses around and get back here.” He winks at them, and they giggle.
Of course. Why would he look at a marshmallow in boots when you've got the Spandex twins? I fold the map and shove it in my backpack.
“Bishop flirts, but he doesn’t date them,” Dillon whispers.
“What?”
“Those girls. They follow him around, hanging on him like he’s a mountain god or something…”
He’s certainly ripped enough to be one. I press my lips together, so I don’t say something awkward.
“But he doesn’t date any of them.”
Interesting.
Mr. Russo waves us onto the trail to start the hike, doing a headcount. “Twelve. A little bigger group this time.”
“Thirteen with you,” Dillon says.
“Hmm? Oh, right.” Mr. Russo waves to Dillon and Bishop. “Back soon!”
We start up the narrow trail, and it's not long before the group buddies up. It's not wide enough for three people, and everyone here seems to know each other.
I talked to a couple of them during the first hour, but the trail grew steeper, until I was huffing for breath at the back of the group and cursing myself for not breaking in my new boots. Mr. Russo called for a break a few minutes ago when we reached this pretty little clearing.
“Drink some water and snack up. Don't leave anything behind,” he says as everyone finds stumps or boulders to sit with their friends.
Most of my water is already gone. I've been sweating through my layers, chugging it down as we walked. The granola bar gives me a little boost of energy. Or maybe that's because I heard someone say we'd be heading back down after this.
The clouds are getting darker overhead, but this hike was only supposed to last four hours at most. I should be home and showered by the time this storm hits.
I smile, proud of myself for rocking this first outing, and tuck my granola wrapper into my backpack. All that's left is another couple of bars and my map. Maybe I'll keep the map as a souvenir. If so, I should commemorate the hike with a picture. I leave my boulder seat to snap a few. Unfortunately, my bladder chooses that moment to give a pointed twist. All the water I drank has caught up to me.
Oh no. I can't wait another two hours until we're back in civilization. I whip my map out of my backpack, scanning the trails for the little people sign that would indicate a bathroom. There's nothing. What kind of barbarians made these trails? I look around. Everyone is paired off again, chatting away as they finish their snacks and clean up. I can't... can't ask anyone about a bathroom. They'd know what I was going to do, and that I was dumb for drinking all my water. The Spandex twins would probably laugh all the way back to the trailhead.
I put the map in my pocket and look around the clearing. There are some thicker bushes right through those trees. Far enough away that I'd have some privacy. God, this is so embarrassing. At least no one is paying attention to me. Once again, I'm almost invisible. Only now that's a good thing.
I slip unnoticed into the bushes and hurry to do my business. I shouldn't be off the trail. Isn't that the number one thing the hot rescue guy said? Don't leave the trail because of bears? I can't get mauled by a bear with my pants down. I'd die. Either of a bear attack or embarrassment, but I'd die.
I'm never doing this again. Brave Bella can figure out a way to be adventurous indoors.
I finish and hurry back to the clearing, trying to figure out a way to slip back in unnoticed. Except that's not a problem.
The clearing is empty. The hiking group is gone.
It’s only been like five minutes, tops. How did this happen? How did they not realize I wasn't with them? Or at least that the group was short of one person?
Thirteen, with you.
Dillon's words come back to me then. Mr. Russo counted twelve again. Only this time, he counted himself and not me.
Okay, I’m not going to panic. They couldn't have gone far, and they're heading back down the trail. I hurry to follow. The path circles back around the clearing and starts down. But less than a few hundred feet later, the path forks. I didn't notice when we were coming up, because the trails just look a little wider there. Unless I'd turned around, I wouldn't have even seen it. Which one did they take? There are footprints going both ways.
My hands are shaking as I pull the map out of my pocket. My chest feels tight, like I can't draw a full breath. Those dumb colored trails twine like snakes. Who even made this map? A sadist?
Calm down, Bella. You can do this.
I count slowly to ten, straining to listen for any voices or laughter up ahead. There's only the light chatter of birds and the rustle of leaves as the wind picks up. When I can breathe better, I look at the map. I find the clearing and trace my way to where I think I'm standing. The trail on the right goes back to the trailhead. If I run, I can catch up with them.
Maybe no one will even notice that I was gone. The thought makes me laugh, but the sound catches in my throat and comes out like a small sob. I rush after the group and hope I don't see a bear.
It's darker now. The sun must have dipped behind the clouds, because it feels like the temperature dropped. I jog back down the trail for what feels like ten minutes.
The group isn't here. I don't even hear them.
I must have chosen the wrong path!
I stop and drag in a shaky breath. None of this looks familiar. But it all looks the same.
I'm shaking so hard I can barely read the map. Who am I kidding? I couldn't read it when I wasn't scared of being lost. I pull my phone out of my pocket to call for help, but there's no signal. Even when I hold it over my head and turn in a slow circle.
I'm lost. Lost on the mountain with no way to contact anyone for help and my hiking group doesn't even know I'm not with them.
My throat grows so tight I can barely swallow. I blink back a few tears and look at the map again. It's no use. There are more junctions than trees on this thing.
What am I going to do?
I start walking again, because at least I'm descending the mountain. The shadows grow darker and thunder rumbles in the distance. Because that makes everything better.
Crossing my arms over my waist to hold my trembles in, I forge ahead.
It takes me a minute to realize I'm hearing a noise. Something out of place in the woods. It's barking.
A dog! A dog means people. It's coming from off the trail, but at this point, I don't care. I plunge into the brush and head for the sound. It gets louder and louder, and it's the best thing I've ever heard in my life.
I don't even notice the shrubs rustling ahead of me until they part, and a huge shape lunges forward.
I let out a startled scream as it crashes into me, moaning. A bear!
No, wait—
I glimpse dark hair, pale skin, and a streak of blood on his cheek right before the giant man collapses against me. We both go down in a tangle of limbs.
Oof.
He’s enormous. Broad and solid. Every inch of him feels carved from marble, and right now, he’s draped over me. He smells like pine, and something woodsy and masculine. And even though he’s pressing me into the ground, a swirl of heat curls in my belly.