1. Forest

1

FOREST

" C an I get you some more water?" I ask my mother as I head into the kitchen. It hasn't changed one bit since I left home at eighteen. God, that was nearly two decades ago.

"My glass is still half full from the last time you asked," she replies.

"A sandwich, then? Or another pillow for your knee?" I call out.

"Just make yourself a snack and come sit down," my mother insists. "You're stressing me out by wandering all over creation."

I smirk at her quaint turn of phrase. My mom is kind, loyal, and independent to boot. Which has made the last twenty-four hours of trying to keep her on the couch after her knee surgery a fuckin' migraine.

I love the woman. She raised me on her own and made sure I had everything I needed to succeed in life. But good lord, she has no concept of slowing down or taking a break.

Finishing up my post-dinner turkey sandwich, I walk back into the living room and sit in the recliner next to the couch. My mother is propped up on a mountain of pillows with her knee wrapped and elevated. She's surrounded by several drinks, the remnants of the dinner I made on her plate, a bag of popcorn for snacking, and of course, the TV remote. Without soap operas and chick flicks to distract my mother, the whole system falls apart.

"What Hallmark movie is featured in tonight's showing?" I ask as I get settled in. "A small-town girl in the big city who finds a secret billionaire to fall in love with? Or maybe she's from a big city and is forced to move back to the family ranch and ends up falling for the foreman?"

"Oh, hush," she says, narrowing her eyes at me. A smile tugs at her lips and I know she's teasing. "New house rule: No making fun of my shows until you find yourself a woman."

I roll my eyes and lean back in the recliner. I should have known better than to bring up anything related to relationships. My mom has been on me to "settle down" and "find a nice woman." She acts as if I party my life away, which is the complete opposite of the truth.

After sticking it out for four years in college to get my degree in history, I knew I wasn't cut out for mainstream life. The world is loud, busy, and overwhelming. I'm not a hermit, per se, but I prefer to spend my time tucked away in the mountains in my cabin.

"I'm serious," my mother continues. "You know I'm proud of you and the work you do way out there in the middle of nowhere. Crafting tables, chairs, and custom furniture is a respectable trade and you've done well for yourself. Don't you go thinkin' I'm not grateful for how much you've helped me over the years."

I nod, though all I want to do is bolt out the door and drive my truck back up the mountain. I don't know how many times we can have this talk before she gives it a rest. Still, I'm here for the rest of the night, so I might as well buck up and listen.

"I know, Ma."

"I'm sure you're tired of hearing me say it, but I worry about you. All alone most days in your workshop and then alone at night in your cabin."

"I have friends, you know," I grumble. "You make me sound like a loser."

My mother laughs, which makes me laugh, too. "I didn't raise a loser," she says, making me laugh harder. "I raised a good man who knows how to take care of their partner and remain loyal. There aren't many of those left, you know. It'd be a shame for you to waste that just rotting away in your cabin."

"I'm not opposed to dating or marriage," I tell her for the hundredth time. "I just haven't found anyone that's sparked my interest."

"Hard to find a woman when you're hidden on the top of a mountain," she counters.

"There are lots of ways to meet people these days. Like dating apps or Facebook or whatever."

"Oh, and are you using those things to find your match?"

"Well, no," I admit, looking away from her.

My mother nods, satisfied with my confession. "Just promise me you're happy. That's what I really want for you, son. My luck with love was never there, but you… you're special."

"I'm not sure that's the compliment you think it is," I joke. "Besides, it takes time to build that kind of relationship."

"Yeah, more time when you're not even looking."

" Ma ," I sigh in exasperation. "Your show is starting. Wouldn't want to miss the opening premise. These things have pretty complex plot lines, so you'll need to pay close attention," I say sarcastically.

My mother tosses a piece of popcorn at my face, which I catch before it hits me. "This conversation isn't over. There's a commercial break in ten minutes," she informs me before turning her attention back to the TV.

I'm about to settle in for a cheesy movie when the phone rings. I always forget my mother still has a landline. Good thing, too, because she always forgets to charge the cell phone I got her.

"Oh, I wonder who that is at this time of night. It must be urgent." She tries sitting up and swinging her bad leg over the pile of pillows, but I stand and put my hands out, motioning for her to stop.

"I'll get it," I rush to say. "No need for you to get up. Actually, it's probably time for more of your pain meds. I'll get those on my way back."

"You're just trying to get me to fall asleep so I don't hassle you about finding a woman," she teases.

"You caught me," I say with a wink. She waves me off as the phone rings again.

I grab the olive green phone from its spot hanging on the wall in the kitchen, pressing it to my ear. I'm about to greet the caller and let them know they're talking to Samantha's son, not Samantha, but they start rambling before I can get a word in.

"I'm so sorry to call this late," the voice says. It's familiar, but I can't quite place it. It's a woman, and she sounds frantic. No, scratch that; she sounds panicked. "I-I-I-I… I went out with some friends from work who ended up not really being good friends at all and then…" She sniffles and her voice cracks, right along with my damn heart. I try saying something to comfort her, but she keeps going. "They left me and then… then some guys…"

"Did they hurt you?" I nearly growl, the thought of anyone harming this woman sending me into a rage.

"Oh, um… Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I have the wrong number. I didn't mean to–"

"This is Forest. Samantha's son," I'm quick to say before she hangs up.

"Forest?" comes her whispered reply. That's when I recognize her voice. The way she says my name sounds exactly like Jett's little sister.

"Fiona?" I ask, confusion mixing with the adrenaline running through my veins. "What happened? Where are you?" My brain snaps back to the original mission. She needs help.

"This is so embarrassing," she mumbles.

"Hey," I tell her in a softer tone. "Your safety isn't anything to take lightly and it's nothing to be embarrassed about, okay?"

A few sniffles come through the line and I get the strongest urge to wrap her up in my arms and protect her from whatever made her so afraid.

"Some guys were giving me a hard time. First, they made rude comments and then one tried some stupid, vulgar pick-up line. When I tried walking away, they…" Fiona takes a breath while I clench my fists.

"What did they do?" I ask, trying with all of my might to keep my voice calm and even.

"They cornered me and started grabbing at my hair and clothes but the bouncer came over and ripped them away. I'm… I'm okay. I just… I'm sorry. I don't know why I called. I just… My friends left me and I don't have a ride home. But it was stupid to call Samantha. I can walk. It's not that far."

"Where are you?" I ask for the second time.

"Really, it's fine," she insists, though her voice is still shaking. "You know how small this town is. You can stand on one side of it and see clear across to the other side. I'll be home in no time." Fiona tries to go for a joke, but she's too upset to pull it off.

"Where are you?" I keep asking. "Sweetheart Falls only has so many bars. I'll drive around to all three of them unless you want to make it a little easier on me and let me know which bar you're at.

Silence stretches over the phone, and for a moment, I think Fiona hung up. But then I hear her take a deep breath and let it out. "McMulligan's Pub," she finally answers.

"Hang tight, sweetheart. I'll be there in two minutes."

I don't have time to dwell on the pet name I gave her or how easily it rolled off my tongue. This is Fiona. My oldest friend's little sister. I haven't thought about her in years, and I certainly didn't know she was old enough to be in a bar. Not that any of that matters. I'm just doing a solid for an old friend. If I had a little sister, I hope someone would look after her and treat her well in a situation like this.

Even as I gather up my keys and wallet, I know this is more than a favor for a friend; I just haven't decided what exactly it means yet.