Then I'm sliding, leaves and grit rushing under my palms, the world tilting sideways, and my ankle snagging on an exposed tree root.
The pain is white and immediate, radiating up my leg before I've even stopped moving. I tumble the last few feet and come to rest at the bottom of the slope in a graceless heap, one cheek against the cold ground, staring at a cluster of mushrooms growing on a fallen log.
For a long moment I just breathe.
"Great," I tell the mushrooms.
I push myself upright slowly. The ankle screams at the movement, a hot, insistent throb that worsens when I try to rotate the joint. The flesh around it already feels swollen and tight inside my boot. I've twisted ankles before. This feels worse than a twist and better than a break, which puts it firmly insprainterritory.
I reach for my phone.
No signal.
"Of course." I drop it back in my pack.
Okay. Options.I'm maybe a mile and a half from the trailhead. My truck is parked there. Someone might notice it, eventually, but it could be days before anyone thinks to look for me. It's summer, and the overnight temps are mild, but I have no shelter and limited water, and there’s wildlife out here that’s way more dangerous than a groundhog.
I plant both hands flat on the ground and push myself up.
The moment my ankle takes any weight, the pain hits, and I drop back down with an undignified sound.
"Nope," I gasp. "Nope, nope, nope."
I sit in the dirt with my arms wrapped around my knees and take one careful breath, then another. I am a practical person. I own a farm. I have dealt with worse than this. I will figure it out.
The sky through the canopy is deepening toward indigo. The first stars are appearing, faint and distant. Somewhere to the east, a coyote yips, and a second voice joins it, then a third.
I press my face into my hands and cry.
Chapter 2
Gavin
Raiderstopsatthetop of a slope and barks again.
Sharp. Certain. HisI-found-somethingbark.
I move up beside him and sweep my flashlight down the slope.
The beam lands on the beautiful face of Sophia Bennett.Just the woman I’ve been searching for.
She is sitting against the dirt wall with one leg pulled close, her hair loose around her shoulders, dirt on her jeans and jacket. When the light hits her eyes she squints and raises a hand.
Relief hits me hard enough to make my chest tighten. I feared the worst when I saw her truck at the trailhead, but she doesn’t look badly injured.
“Need some help, ma’am?” I ask, inwardly cringing at my use of the wordma’am. There’s no sense in pretending I don’t know exactly who she is. I visit her at the farmer’s market every single week. And I’m pretty sure she’s caught me staring at her more than once.
“I twisted my ankle,” she answers.
At the sound of her voice, Raider scrambles down the slope, sliding the last few feet and landing beside her, tail already wagging.
Sophia laughs softly and reaches for his collar. “Hey, buddy,” she murmurs, rubbing his ears. “Sorry, but I don’t have any treats for you tonight.”
I sling the flashlight beam across the trail, checking for loose rock before starting down the slope toward her.
“On a scale of one to ten, how’s the pain?” I ask.
“It only hurts a little,” she says, but her voice is strained.
