Page 2 of When The Mountains Held Us

The feeling of being in a new and unfamiliar place rushes through me in waves, sending my left leg bouncing and nervous butterflies fluttering around in my stomach like a shaken snow globe. A banner across the top of my screen catches my attention from my periphery, and I glance at the notification.

UNKNOWN

Please, just call me. I need to know…

The message trails off, but I can’t be bothered to open it and read further. I already know what it’ll say, and I’m in no way ready to face the barrage of countless other messages—text and voice alike—that all no doubt say the exact same thing.

Since leaving, texts and calls have bombarded me, each one adding another layer to the steeple of exhaustion that’s building inside of me the further I drive away from that town. Only when I blocked the number did the other numbers start up. I blocked them diligently for a while, but it felt like whenever I blocked one, two more popped up in its place. Each one threatened to snap the thin thread I was using to hang onto my mental health for dear life.

Moving to this town tucked into the depths of the Adirondack Mountains is a calculated move on my part. I’m not running away. I’m healing. I’m building a new and exciting life for myself, filled with adventure and embracing the unknown.

Alright, I’m running away.

But that doesn’t mean that all of the above isn’t still true. Even if I am currently more anxious than excited about it. Once I get the keys to the apartment and settle down, my mood is sure to turn around. I just need to get all of the adulting stuff out of the way first.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts as I pull up to another stoplight. According to the map on my dash, at least.

In reality, a sea of reflective orange vests, cones, and tape sits ahead of me. Maybe the sleep deprivation is finally getting to me. I blink and crawl to a stop, sitting there staring, allowing my brain to catch up with my eyeballs.

Heavy machinery rumbles in a low purr as men wearing blue jeans and yellow hard hats shout instructions while waving big orange flags.

The entire road ahead of me—the only road that leads straight to the apartment complex—is under construction.

Two

Oakley

The knuckles rapping against my window jar me from my daze, and I say a silent prayer of thanks that I’m not still clutching my mostly empty coffee cup. Tucking a lock of long blonde hair behind my ear, I grip the steering wheel for a moment, willing my heart to calm before rolling down the window.

A man who has to be in his late twenties, early thirties bends down, resting his dust-covered forearm on the edge of the window. His closeness causes me to lean back on instinct, trying to put as much distance between myself and the stranger. By the way he’s crowding my space, he may as well climb into the passenger seat.

“Can’t cross here. You’ll have to go around.” His voice is gruff, as if worn down from years of inhaling dust and debris, but there is an underlying teasing lilt to it as well. He squints at me before his light brown eyes drift down the front of my shirt. A smirk tilts up the corner of his mouth, jostling the toothpick pressed between his lips into a salute.

“Is there no way I can get through? It’s just that I’m late for a meeting. I really need something to go right today.” I didn’t mean to blurt out that last part, but it’s true.

After so much shit, I need a win, and I foolishly thought I had been on my way towards one.

“No can do. Can’t cross through an active work zone. Especially not in that car.”

The way he says that car has indignation sparking color into my cheeks. Ahead of me, the entire right lane of the road is blocked off, but the left lane is clear, save for a few of the men meandering around. I swallow my pride and plaster on my brightest smile.

“Listen, Mr…”

“Justin,” he provides, his eyebrow cocked as he waits for me to continue.

“Mr. Justin.” God, it sounds even more ridiculous out loud. “I have a tour at Mountainside Apartments, like, right now, and I really need to get there as soon as possible.”

Mostly, so I don’t have to sleep all night on the side of the road in my car, praying a mountain lion doesn’t come through and attack me.

“Sorry, doll. Can’t letcha through.” His tone is unwavering as he stares blatantly at my chest.

For fuck’s sake.

Someone grabs Justin by the scruff of the neck and yanks him backwards. He lets out a low curse as he goes tumbling, a broad smile still splitting his face.

Before I can blink, another face appears at my window, blocking out the sight of Justin behind him. Striking emerald eyes, the color of the pine trees that surround us, peer back at me from beneath long dark lashes. He looks to be around the same age as Justin, maybe a little older, his deeply tanned skin smooth, save for the smile lines at the corner of each eye. My eyes drop lower to the small, but genuine, smile that graces his full lips.

“Sorry about him. You never can beat back all the wildlife around here.”