Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Bess

I fell into strange twilight sleep, too exhausted to move, yet too uncomfortable to truly relax. Each time I cracked my eyelids, I saw the same darkness. The night was as long as it was uncomfortable. Like sitting on a crowded bus, desperately trying to respect everyone’s personal space when there simply wasn’t space. So, you eventually gave up and became part of the human wall, shoulder to shoulder, moving in unison at every turn. Charlie was a good sport, resting his hand against my back, not once making frustrated sounds. Unlike me.

It was one thing to hug and cuddle while we were awake but sleeping in such a tight cocoon put us in danger of cutting off each other’s circulation. At some point, I woke up with a numb arm and had to turn around. “I’m turning to even things out,” I grumbled. “To make the other arm numb as well.”

Charlie grunted in response and turned to spoon me, carefully resting his hand on my hip. I fell asleep again.

When I woke up, I could finally see a faint light. The sun was rising. My every limb stiff and a little cold, my armpits oddly sweaty, I reached up to unzip the cover. “Charlie,” I whispered. “I think it’s morning.”

“Thank God!” He tried to stretch his arms overhead, but there was no space.

I tried to move over him without crushing him to death. “I’ll get out and walk around. Maybe restart the fire if I can find the lighter. You can go back to sleep.”

“No, I’ll go,” he protested, eyes half-open. “You don’t know how to use my travel espresso machine.”

“Seriously?”

He opened the rest of the cover, letting the freezing morning air into the hammock. I burrowed down into the padded fabric, every muscle tightening against the cold. Feeling a little embarrassed but ultimately grateful, I let him get out and zip up the cover. Without him, the hammock felt like a giant, soft cloud that hugged me from every direction. The warmth slowly returned, and the gentle swaying made me sleepy again. Before I knew it, I’d drifted off into a deep, vivid dream. In it, we walked around the empty office floor, got lost and camped out under his desk.

I woke up to the smell of coffee and the crackle of fire and discovered one thing. There is no better way to wake up than swaying in a hammock in the middle of wilderness, smelling an open fire and coffee. Nothing beats it. The absolute bliss lasted for about ten seconds, before my mind began cataloguing things to worry about. Being lost in the forest. Not having cell phone reception or enough food. The possibility of being pregnant. Having to present my half-baked campaign idea to clients that I normally wasn’t allowed to talk to. But, despite all the bombarding thoughts, the smell of coffee still helped.

I pulled on my jacket and unzipped the hammock. Pale morning light had transformed the scenery into something fresh and serene. I could hear the babbling creek and saw the clearing we’d stumbled across in the dark, covered in long, dewy grass and one hundred percent less scary. Near the blazing fire, the air didn’t feel as cold as before. Charlie sat perched on a log next to the fire pit. Seeing me, he raised his steel cup and smiled. “Coffee? We’ll have to share this cup.”

By the time I’d climbed out of the hammock, he’d made me a cup, handing it over with a flourish.

“That was fast.” I sat next to him, at the far end of the wonky log that sat so close to the ground my knees were up against my chin.

“I had boiling water ready to go.” He gestured at a small kettle next to his feet.

“You packed a kettle for a two-hour hike?”

“I heard the hunting cabin had a fire pit and I need it for making coffee, so…”

“What else did you bring? Continental breakfast?” I cast him a hopeful look.

“Sorry. I only have those muesli bars we didn’t eat last night.”

“I was hoping you were rationing things.” As if on cue, my stomach growled.

“I went through my whole backpack in case there were any forgotten treasures. And I found… drum roll, please.”

I rapped my hands against my knees, turning it into a vigorous rub to keep them warm. With a cheeky grin, Charlie stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a half-eaten Snickers bar, presenting it to me like a gift from the gods.

“What kind of maniac eats half a Snickers bar?” I stared at the leftover chocolate, then at him. “Explain yourself.”

He shrugged. “I guess I forgot to finish it.”

“What happened? Earthquake? Bear? The only time I don’t finish a chocolate is when Celia steals it from me. Or rather, she reminds me that sharing is caring.”

“Teaching kids to share can really backfire.” He pulled a silly face.

I nodded. “It really can.” Unable to wait any longer, I unwrapped the chocolate bar and tucked into it. “Oh, my God, it’s the bigger half!”

“Sharing is caring.” He cast me a comically pleading look, his lower lip protruded.

“You already ate half of this,” I argued, but broke off half, carefully catching any crumbs on my palm.

Charlie hesitated a moment but took the chocolate and ate it in one piece as I worked through mine bit by bit, washing it down with the surprisingly strong coffee. When the chocolate was finished, Charlie presented me with the muesli bars. It wasn’t exactly the breakfast of champions, but the quick caffeine hit evened out the effect of poor sleep and stiff muscles, making the prospect of venturing back on the path feel possible.

“Any messages on your phone?” I asked.

“One from Gran. She told your mom and they’re on their way.”

“On their way where?”

“Cozy Creek and Rubie Ridge I suppose.”

“Oh, shit.” Mom didn’t even have a car. She currently spent so much on keeping mine on the road she couldn’t afford her own. “We need to get back. They must be worried sick.”

“We can’t be that far. Let’s follow the creek down the hill.”

We extinguished the fire, and I helped Charlie pack up the hammock. Having abandoned the leaf-collecting and my shoebox, my bag was essentially empty, so I offered to take some of Charlie’s items. Once we had everything on our backs, we exchanged a meaningful look and headed to the creek.

“I hope you’re right, because this is not the easiest path to walk,” I said, picking my feet across the terrain.

Rocks and tufts of long grass dotted the creek banks. There was no path at all, only the small stream that took twists and turns as we followed it down the gentle slope. Soon, the stream split into two smaller ones. We picked the stronger one and continued, dodging trees and shrubs and occasionally climbing over larger rocks. Inside the forest, our visibility was limited to a few yards ahead. The cold humidity of the shade settled on my skin, making the air feel cooler. When we finally emerged from the woods, we found the sun had climbed higher and I relished its warmth on my face.

The open plain also offered us with a view, albeit not one I recognized. The mountains rose ahead of us, but the stream seemed to curve to the left, running down towards a dip between hilltops. Soon, the terrain turned steeper and the stream turned into a mini waterfall, gushing and gurgling down the rocks. I could see all the way to the bottom where the ground flattened out again, but there was no easy way down.

Charlie grabbed my arm, holding me back like he thought I might fall. “We’ll have to climb down. I’ll go first.”

He released my arm and began edging down the rocky surface, holding onto a young tree for support. Once he made it to the next tree, I took a deep breath and followed, making sure to trace the exact path he was mapping out below. But he was a lot taller, with longer legs.

As I reached for a rock ledge to find my next footing, I fumbled. A smaller stone came loose under my foot, and I rolled down with it, scraping my ass along the bumpy surface until I landed against a large pine like a downhill skiing cartoon character. I only realized I’d hurt my ankle when I tried to take another step and it buckled. Pain seared through my left foot, all the way up to my calf. If I hadn’t still been holding onto that pine, I might have fallen all the way down.

“I can’t walk!” I cried. My voice echoed back from the rock wall, amplifying the panic. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

Charlie climbed back up to meet me until I could wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hold on to me,” he said, carefully inching his way down the slope, holding onto trees and exposed roots. “This feels like the ninja training at the gym—which is a piece of cake for me, so don’t worry.” Judging by the way he panted, the words were meant to reassure himself as much as me.

When we made it to level ground, he set me down on a mound of soft grass and rolled up my pant leg to examine my ankle.

“It’s just a sprain,” I said, although I had no idea. Either way, what could he do?

“It’s starting to swell up.” He felt around my ankle, gently pushing his finger into the skin. It felt tight, like a water balloon being filled. The ankle throbbed in sync with my heartbeat.

Once the initial shock wore off, the reality of the situation dawned on me. I couldn’t walk. How were we ever going to get out of this forest?

“Leave me here and keep going, get some help.” I gestured at the direction of the stream. “You can follow the stream to get back up here.”

“Absolutely not. I can carry you.”

I sighed, fighting tears as the pain pulsed through me. “No, you can’t. You already have a backpack. You’re carrying kettles for crying out loud.”

“I’ll leave it behind.”

“What? Your fancy hammock and coffee maker…”

“I don’t care. Give me your bag. I’ll put my phone and valuables in there and we’ll leave the rest. We can come back for it later.”

“Unless the elk find it and use the hammock as part of their mating rituals.” I tried to smile. If I joked, he wouldn’t see how much pain I was in.

“In that case, I’ll let the elk have it. Although I might take the binoculars, so they don’t find the sex tape.”

I laughed a little through a film of tears. I handed him my small backpack, and he transferred a few items into it. Finding his weird water bag, now half empty, he offered me a drink. “We can probably fill it from the stream. It’s bound to be clean. But first…” He went back to his backpack and pulled out the first aid kit. “You’re in pain.”

I took the painkillers he offered and washed them down with the water.

Charlie hung his rucksack on a low tree branch. “Let’s go.”

He crouched down to get me on his back. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a piggyback ride, but it must have been in my childhood. Jack wouldn’t have offered—he’d had back issues throughout our relationship. But Charlie lifted me on his back as easily as he’d thrown the rucksack over his shoulder, locking his elbows behind my knees. I wrapped my arms over his shoulders and rested my chin against his neck, feeling like the biggest nuisance on the planet, yet deeply grateful. If he’d left me sitting here by myself with only pain to keep me company… I didn’t even want to think about that option. But Charlie wouldn’t leave me behind.

“If I’m too heavy, put me down and take a break, okay?” I said into his ear.

“I’m fine.”

Crossing open fields, he kept a good pace, leaping over rocks. But when we entered another forest, he slowed down, taking care when passing trees so I didn’t bump my sore ankle on anything. After a while, my pain turned into a manageable dull throb. The ankle must have been pumped full of fluids now as I could hardly move my foot, but as the pain subsided, I found it harder to ignore other sensations, such as the familiar scent of his skin and hair, and the way his muscles flexed and moved under his jacket.

I was desperate to find a way out of the forest, yet equally desperate to never again join civilization. Never again to return to the office. Mom was driving here, bringing my daughter. I missed Celia so much I ached, but I knew what that meant. The retreat was over. The fake dating was over. I’d have no reason to ever again share a cabin, bed or hammock with Charlie Wilde.

I inhaled his scent—pine and wood fire mixed with the familiar lemon, trying to memorize every note. This was my last chance. We’d make it out of here. I’d find those morning-after pills and go back to my old life, hoping that Charlie agreed to keep our shared retreat a secret. If word got out that we’d spent a few nights up in the mountains sharing a cabin and drawing nudes, the rumors would follow me around. And if Charlie insisted that I pitched the campaign idea to our client, it would look like I was sleeping with him to advance my career.

I cringed at the thought. I’d lose everyone’s respect. Apart from maybe Teresa and Rhonda. I wondered what Charlie’s Gran must have thought about the messages we’d exchanged.

“Your phone, Charlie.” I tapped his chest with my hand. “Is it working?”

“It’s in your bag.”

“Should we check?” If nothing else, I wanted him to take a break.

Charlie helped me down onto a large rock. He didn’t audibly groan, but I noticed the way he straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. I was a burden. Literally. I handed him my backpack, and he found his phone.

“No signal.” He stared at the screen, frowning.

Were we going deeper into the dead zone with no cell phone coverage? Did that mean we were getting even more lost? There was no way we could return, not with me hanging on Charlie’s back.

“And now it’s dead,” he informed me after tapping the screen a couple of times. “I don’t have a battery pack, sorry.”

“We went for a two-hour hike, Charlie,” I reminded him. “No more apologies.”

“I feel awful that you’re hurt and hungry and we’re lost… This is so not what I wanted for you.”

“Don’t worry about me. My ankle doesn’t hurt that much anymore.” I slid off the rock and placed my foot against the ground and leaned on it to test how it felt. The sharp pain made me wince.

“Stop that! You can’t walk.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Charlie filled his water carrier from the stream and we both had a drink before I climbed back on his back and we continued our way down the hill. After a few more minutes of frantic praying, I spotted something shiny between the trees. A roof! It had to be a roof.

“Charlie! There’s a house. I think there’s a house. Or some sort of building. Or hallucination.”

He picked up speed, nearly jogging over the bumpy landscape. As we got closer, the building took shape. It was small and rusty red, maybe a shed of some kind. But where there was a shed, there was a house.

Once we reached the shed, I saw a small, windy path leading from it towards a larger farmhouse with a wraparound porch. After our long journey, the house looked so homely and inviting that I blinked, half-expecting the vision to vanish like a mirage. But as we got closer, I noticed the dirty work boots and flowerpots by the front door. Signs of life!

Charlie lowered me onto the steps before rapping on the door. I held onto the banister, balancing on my healthy foot. After a moment, we heard footsteps and the door cracked open a little, then all the way. A middle-aged woman with kind eyes and an apron tied over a blouse looked at us quizzically. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but we got a bit lost when hiking out there and followed the creek down the mountain, hoping we’d find our way back.”

“Oh, dear Lord!” Her eyes widened with compassion. “How long have you been out there?”

“Just one night,” I clarified. “We had water, we’re fine.”

“Except Bess here hurt her ankle and can’t walk.”

“That sounds like a rough journey.” She blew a breath, shaking her head. “How can I help?”

“If I could charge my phone, I could maybe call an Uber or something.”

“There’s no Uber in Cozy Creek. There’s Huber, though.”

“There’s what?” Charlie angled his head like he hadn’t heard that right.

“Jimmy Huber’s rideshare. He doesn’t let his drivers come all the way here, though. Says it’s too far. Anyway, come in from the cold. I’ve got a fire on.” She stepped aside and Charlie helped me into the house.

“I’m Charlie. Charlie Wilde.”

“Anna McGreedy. Welcome to our ranch!” She shook Charlie’s hand in the doorway and led us into a spacious hall, closing the crispy air outside.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Traveling on Charlie’s back, stealing his body heat, I’d kept reasonably warm, but I’d stopped moving. Without the exercise keeping my blood flowing, the cold had crept up my arms and legs, making the non-injured foot feel so cold it was almost numb.

The living room was cozy, a fire blazing in a small stove. Judging by the paneled windows and worn-out wood floors, the house had history. Charlie set me down in a cozy, quilt-covered armchair, then followed the lady to a large shelf of books and board games. And there, right at the edge, a collection of tangled cables grew out a multi-plug like an electronic hanging plant.

“Lightning cable. Perfect.” Charlie threw me a smile over his shoulder, immediately plugging in his phone. “It’s charging, Bess.”

“Thank you so much,” I said as I caught our host’s eye.

She smiled. “You two are from out of town, aren’t you?”

Charlie looked a little flustered but returned her smile. “Is it that obvious?”

She cocked her head. “Well, Cozy Creek’s a small place. And I don’t know any locals who’d venture into the forest this time of year with nothing on their back.” She glanced at the small backpack I was hugging.

“The backpack! Charlie, we have to go back and get it.”

“No, we don’t.” He shot me a stern look. “We need to get you to the doctor.” He turned back to Anna. “We had to leave my backpack behind when Bess got injured. I couldn’t carry both.”

He sounded disappointed with himself, like he’d supposed to. Oh, Charlie. The sigh floated out of my chest like a silent prayer. He so desperately wanted to do the right thing, to fix everything.

“I can send someone out to pick it up if you give me some coordinates.” Anna nodded at the door.

I was about to protest, but Charlie jumped at the chance. “It’s by the creek, close to the small waterfall.”

“I think I know that one. We can get it for you. Where are you two staying? Cozy Creek? I’d take you back myself, but I’ve got a pie in the oven and two more I’m baking for the Fall Festival?—.”

“That’s okay.” Charlie waved his hand, staring at his charging phone. “If I can wake up my phone, I’m sure we can organize a ride.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll call one of my boys to give you a ride. Nash should be done with the horses now. Remind me to give you Jimmy’s number, too, if you need a ride later. Tell him I sent you. He doesn’t drive tourists.” She pulled a cell phone out of her apron pocket and left the room to make the call.