Oakley
Eleven
Idrag myself back to the motel a little after three in the morning, my feet and back aching as I shove off my shoes, discard my clothes, and climb into the shower.
I let the hot water soothe my aching muscles, and when I emerge a little while later, I’m more relaxed than I’ve been since arriving in North Creek.
I check my phone as I plug it in, surprised but relieved to see that there are no new calls or texts from Travis, but the relief is short-lived as I consider why that might be.
While I know there is no part of me that still loves the man he turned out to be, I think a tiny pocket of my heart will always mourn for the man he was when I met him, before the real monster emerged from the shadows.
His silence, while a welcome reprieve from the anxiety-inducing flood of messages, sends a jolt of fear through me. There’s no knowing what waits in the silence until the thing you fear most jumps out and grabs you by the throat.
I scroll through my messages, texting my mom back that I’m okay and I’ll call her soon, before I land on a text from my study buddy, Danielle, asking if I’ve gotten my books for the semester yet.
I stare at the message, only just now realizing that in my haste to get out of town, I missed the deadline to register for classes.
I swipe out of the message, deciding that I can deal with figuring out what to tell her tomorrow after I’ve slept.
I pull the wad of cash from my shift tonight out of the back pocket of the jeans I left rumpled in a heap on the floor and count my earnings. Two hundred and seventy-six dollars.
I stare at the money like it’ll catch fire and disintegrate in a puff of smoke if I look away and marvel at how it’s possible this was my share of the earnings tonight.
I’ll admit, I hadn’t expected Joe’s to be as busy as it was tonight.
Then again, it’s Friday night, and Joe’s is the only joint in town.
I tuck the cash into the small safe below the television, set the passcode, and spin the dial before grabbing my jeans off the floor to put them in the cheap pop-up laundry basket I grabbed at the store earlier.
Something in the other pocket is stiff beneath my fingers, and I plunge my hand into the pocket to pull out the tip that Levi left me.
Forty-three dollars. I was surprised when he left the cash sitting on the bar, and I’m lucky that no one else grabbed it before I had a chance to go back for it.
I eyed it out of the corner of my eye, figuring he left it behind by mistake because there is no way he had actually intended to leave me a tip well over six times the cost of the drink he didn’t touch.
I should have put it in the shared tip jar, but I didn’t want to share this with Layla. Something told me he left it specifically for me.
He watched me the rest of the night from his corner booth, never seeming to take his eyes off me but never missing a beat when one of the guys said something to him.
His darkened, yet pleased, expression when I grabbed the tip sent a flurry of butterflies through my core—yeah, I’m not planning to contemplate that any further tonight—and I quickly shoved the money into my back pocket before Layla could see it and get any ideas.
He had left it for me.
I didn’t care about splitting the other tips, but the thought of splitting his with Layla, who I swear was trying her damndest to make my night as miserable as possible, made my skin crawl with a spark of fierce indignation.
I place the cash in the safe with the rest of my earnings and climb beneath the covers, flicking off the bedside lamp and settling into the scratchy sheets. Exhaustion overwhelms me and I close my eyes, letting the blissful lull of sleep take me as I ponder what awaits me tomorrow.
I wake around mid-morning the next day, the sun sending blinding rays of light in through the two front windows.
I lie in bed for a minute, watching the dust motes dance around in the beam of sunshine, feeling more rested than I expected to, considering I went to bed at nearly four o’clock in the morning.
A headache pounds in my temples, signaling my body’s temper tantrum at not having my morning caffeine yet, and I throw the covers off and scramble out of bed.
Plugging in the small coffee pot next to the TV, I busy myself with getting the coffee brewing.
I pad over to use the bathroom and brush my teeth, and when I reenter the bedroom, the smell of coffee permeates the air and makes my mouth water.
I pour some into a plastic solo cup and make a note to pick up a real coffee mug as I stir in a bit of the French vanilla creamer I picked up yesterday.
The memory of Levi bringing me coffee yesterday morning pauses my stirring, the plastic spoon left momentarily forgotten in the dark liquid.
If I try hard enough, I can even recall the feeling of his fingers brushing mine as he handed me the travel mug, but I quickly shake the thought away.
It’s too early to let my mind wander down that mental road.
I sip my coffee at the small table in front of the window and scroll aimlessly through my phone, wondering if I have enough time to explore one of the nearby hiking trails and still get back in time to shower and get ready for my shift at the bar.
A quick internet search tells me there are several easy trails to choose from, and I pick one that will take me through a dense forested area.
It might not be a hike to the top of one of the magnificent mountains in the distance, but, if anything, it’ll get me out of the motel room and give me a little exercise.
The promise of fresh air and quiet solitude spurs me into action, and I quickly drain the remainder of the coffee.
I change into a pair of black leggings and a fitted T-shirt, throwing my blonde hair into a ponytail at the base of my skull, before I complete the look with my favorite baseball cap.
Grabbing my keys and phone, I start the car and pull out of the motel parking lot, following the GPS instructions to the trailhead.
There are no cars in the parking area when I arrive, and I breathe a sigh of relief at my chances of not running into another enthusiastic local and having to socialize.
I like waitressing—and, I guess, now bartending—but the social aspect of the job is draining, leaving me feeling like I want to escape into myself and be alone with my own thoughts.
Nevermind that my own thoughts have begun to feel like a hostile battleground lately, and I’m only ever one small memory away from stepping right into the line of enemy fire.
The trail beneath my dirty sneakers is riddled with rocks and roots, and I have to concentrate on watching my footing so I don’t wind up with a broken ankle.
The purposeful focus is a welcome reprieve from the maelstrom of my busy mind.
The further I head down the trail, the quieter it becomes, as if the entire forest around me is holding its breath.
It’s strange, but not uncomfortable. In fact, I find that with each step I take, the ever-present fear and anxiety fade away until my feet pick up pace.
Soon enough, I’m moving with careful, confident steps deeper into the woods.
The trail winds its way around large rocks and trunks, and every so often, I glimpse a small peak of the mountains through the thicket of green to my left.
The peaks of those mountains spur me on as if nature itself is promising a life-changing view if only I keep moving, keep going, keep pushing onward.
The soft breeze stirs my blonde flyaways and beckons me forward.
I’ve worked up a sweat, and my heart is pounding, but every steady thump of my heart pushes me forward faster.
There’s a bend in the trail up ahead, and my eyes shift across the scenery, greedily drinking in the sight of the colorful wildflowers popping up out of the dark dirt on the side of the trail.
They blow in the breeze as if waving hello to me.
Making it around the bend in the path, I come to a sudden stop at the sight of a large dog standing in the middle of the trail, its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth as it studies me.
I do a quick glance around, but I don’t see anyone with the dog, and I get a nervous tingle in my stomach as I wonder if it’s a stray.
The dog wags its tail and slowly approaches me, its black and brown fur rippling as the muscles beneath it shift.
I stand still, catching my breath as the dog moves closer. When it’s standing in front of me, it looks up with wide golden-brown eyes and then tentatively licks my hand. I melt.
“Hey buddy,” I whisper, and its ears perk up as its tail takes on a frantic wagging motion.
I smooth my hand over the dog’s head, its soft fur sliding through my fingers as I scratch behind its ears.
Dropping to my knees, I laugh as the dog drops to the ground and rolls onto its back, looking at me upside down and practically begging for belly rubs.
“Bandit!”
At this point, I think I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Rough like sandpaper, but as intoxicating as the bourbon he was drinking last night.
Levi stops short when he takes in the sight of us on the ground in the middle of the trail. I smile up at him before returning my gaze to Bandit, who does not seem pleased at the stalled belly rub.
“Cute dog.”
“Yeah, he’s something. I hope he’s not bothering you.” Levi closes the distance between us, and I stand.
“Not at all.”
“If I knew you were planning on exploring the trails this morning, I would have offered to show you around.”
“It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, actually. I was fully prepared to sleep until my shift tonight. Actually, I should be heading back. I might need a nap before I go in tonight.” I laugh awkwardly and watch as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
He’s dressed in a pair of shorts and a plain white T-shirt that’s practically see-through in the front from where his sweat has soaked it. My mouth goes dry as I take in the firm muscles beneath the thin fabric, my mind sprinting towards something I have no business thinking about a man I just met.
Especially not with everything going on in my life right now. I am in no position to be getting romantically involved with someone so soon after the most devastating relationship of my life.
“Well, I’m glad you got out either way. There are so many trails through these mountains, and not one of them is the same as the next.
” His words solidify my previous hope that maybe there’s something new to discover the more I venture.
“You mind if we walk with you?” Levi gestures towards the trail behind me, and Bandit looks up at me with pleading eyes. How could I say no to that face?
Undecided which face I’m referring to.
“It’s beautiful out here. Peaceful. Quiet. It’s a nice change from where I come from,” I say as we take off down the trail in the direction of my car.
“Where are you from?”
We walk side by side as Bandit bounds ahead of us, chasing and snapping at a butterfly that flits just out of his reach above the path.
“A suburb down in Pennsylvania. It’s not a big city, but it’s nowhere near as intimate as this place.”
He hums his understanding.
“Nothing is quite as intimate as a small town where everyone knows everyone else’s business. It can be hard to keep to yourself in a place like this.”
“Is that your not-so-subtle way of telling me not to bother trying?” I’m surprised by the way he manages to see right through the facade I hide behind. But I’m even more surprised to discover that I don’t care. Maybe I even like it a little bit.
“It’s certainly not my place to tell you what to do or what not to do. But, if I can offer a bit of advice, I’d say that life here can be tough when you find yourself on the outside of a close-knit community.”
I consider his words, biting my lip in thought as we walk.
On the one hand, I’m terrified of letting people in after the last person I opened my heart to ripped it out and stomped all over it.
On the other hand, I left when I did because I was desperately searching for the type of community this town seems to promise.
Among other reasons, of course. I guess I didn’t take into account how hard I would have to work to battle my own raging emotions screaming at me to run in the opposite direction.
Do I stand a chance at starting over here if I don’t allow myself to open up to people? What kind of life would it be if I just existed here without giving people a chance? Levi allows me the space and quiet to mull over his words as we walk without the pressure of feeling like I have to respond.
Eventually, we make it back to my car. I can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment that our hike is ending.
It’s been nice spending time with him without feeling the pressure to fill the empty space with idle small talk.
He walks me to my door, opening it and placing a gentle hand on the small of my back as I climb in.
His touch is gone too soon, leaving an electric tingle across my skin in its wake.
Before he closes the door, Bandit leaps onto my lap with his front paws, demanding chin scratches, and I oblige him, laughing when he licks the full length of my face.
When he jumps down and sits obediently at Levi’s side, I close the door behind me, start the car, and roll my window down, staring absentmindedly at Levi’s mouth.
His full lips quirk up when he notices me staring, and my eyes fly to his green ones as he bends down until he’s at eye level with me.
The car feels too small with him this close, but the proximity doesn’t scare me.
It thrills me. I’m overcome with the desire to draw him closer, my body on fire as I glance down at his mouth again and wonder what those lips would feel like against my skin.
Bandit breaks the moment with an impatient woof, and I blink, pulling myself out of whatever strange daydream I’d found myself in.
“Drive safe, Oakley.”
“You too,” I reply and then frown, realizing that his truck isn’t in the parking lot. Is there another lot at the other end of the trail? If so, why did he insist on walking me to my car if his truck is in the other direction?
Pulling out of the gravel lot, I watch the man behind me fade away in my rearview, only turning to walk back towards the trailhead once he’s seen I’ve made it onto the road okay. I catch the swing of a tail as Bandit springs ahead of Levi down the path and disappears into the woods.