Page 9 of Stalkers Anonymous

I appreciate his effort to lighten the moment, but I can’t come up with a response. All I can do is stare in horror at the empty space where a rock used to be, and imagine how crumpled my small body would have looked among the shattered pieces of stone below.

A chill rolls down my spine, but I force it away. I’m fine. It’s fine. I didn’t splatter like a dropped watermelon, and a criminally hot stranger saved me. Cool, cool, cool.

We make our way down carefully, finding natural handholds in the rock face. I’m almost too focused on not falling to notice how strong and solid Cole’s body is as he moves.

Almost.

When we reach the bottom, the crowd of hikers has mostly dispersed, though a few remain to watch the rescue team’s evacuation. Jason’s friends are safely on the ground now, providing details to a park ranger. Marisa has produced a selfie stick from god knows where and starts crying prettily while making doe-eyes at the camera. The ranger looks like he wants to retire on the spot.

As the excitement fully subsides and the rescue team launches into the sky with Jason, I find myself standing next to Cole in the sudden stillness that follows. The sounds of the forest that typically bring me peace—bird calls, rustling leaves, distant voices of hikers on the main trail—seem oddly amplified.

Fuck, I’m too awkward for this.

“So,” Cole says, shouldering his pack and meeting my gaze. “ER doc at Memorial, huh?”

“Ah, you caught that? I’m a resident. Work the night shift mostly,” I confirm. “You?”

“Tech division at Fortress Security Systems downtown.” He hesitates, then adds, “Military intelligence before that.”

“Well, Cole from Fortress Security,” I say, finding myself suddenly reluctant to end the encounter, “thanks for everything you did up there. Not every hiker comes fully equipped with rappelling gear and trauma response training, so it was really great having you there to help. Not to mention the whole saving-me-from-a-harrowing-death thing. That was really helpful, too.”

“Always be prepared,” he replies with a soft smile that brightens his serious expression. “Though I was hoping to use the gear for a more recreational climb today.”

“I’m sorry your hike didn’t go as planned.” I frown, feeling sorry for him again. That’s twice now this man has turned my stoic insides to marshmallow goo. What gives? My plans were derailed too, though that’s not totally unexpected. Like I said, trouble has a way of finding me.

He shrugs, and it takes everything in me to drag my wandering eyes from the way his muscles strain against the fabric of his black shirt. “It was more important than reaching the summit. Plus, the trails aren’t going anywhere. Unlike that guy.”

“Jason?”

“He’s definitely going somewhere.” Cole glances toward the empty sky where the helicopter has long since disappeared. “Viral, probably.”

A surprised laugh escapes me before I can catch it. So he does have a sense of humor under all that calm competence.

We stand in silence for a moment. I glance at my watch—I need to get moving if I want to finish the trail by nightfall. I don’t fuck with the forest at night. Then again, I need to take a moment and assess whether or not I’m stable enough to keep going. The past half hour—has it only been thirty minutes?—was one hell of a wild ride.

“Are you going to keep hiking or head back?” Cole asks, practically reading my mind. Is he stalling, as reluctant as I am to end this interaction?

I consider the question. The adrenaline crash will hit soon, but I haven’t gotten what I came out here for—a moment of peace. I’ll regret it if I turn back now, and keeping my body moving will help flush out the adrenaline still coursing through my system. “I think so. Maybe not all the way to the summit, but at least to the higher reservoir overlook. You?”

“Same,” he says. “I think I might take the South Ridge trail instead. It’s less crowded.”

I nod, familiar with the route. The views are spectacular, but the terrain is difficult enough that I find myself questioning my sanity every time I attempt it. “That’s a good one.”

I watch him for a moment, contemplating what to say next. My fingers find the hair tie around my wrist and I slip it off, working it between them. Tying it into a bow knot, feeling the fabric stretch and resist. There’s something satisfying about the tension. Tighten, release. Tighten, release. Unconsciously, I sync the expansion and contraction to match my inhales and exhales.

I could come up with something to keep the conversation going… Or offer to join him.

The idea surprises me. I don’t usually do this—pursue men, or really anyone for that matter. It’s been what, four years? Five? since someone actually made me want to try. Most people are exhausting. They talk too much or not enough. They’re intimidated by what I do or they find a way to fetishize it. They want me to fix them, or they want to fix me, and I don’t have the energy for either.

But Cole is…different. Calm without being boring. Competent. He didn’t panic when Jason went down, and he definitely didn’t try to take over or mansplain anything to me. He helped where he was needed and stayed out of the way when he wasn’t. That’s rare. And attractive.

I pull the hair tie tighter, the knot going smaller before I release it and slide it back onto my wrist.

Do I really want Cole’s first impression to be of me hunched over with my hands on my knees, gasping for air and contemplating every bad decision that led me to hiking that trail again?

No, no… I don’t want to look like a dying animal in front of this gorgeous man.

So I decide this is where it has to end.