Rough Patch (Coming Home to the Mountain) - Page 6

I spend the next few hours lost in the woods. Not literally, but I let myself wind around some of my favorite spots, stopping at a small brook for a snack, and then trudging ahead.

My brothers might think I'm a bit of a loner, but that's not the truth. These days I'm either with Plum or tossing and turning in my bed. Because my mom wasn't wrong. Four years is a long time.

As I wind around my favorite part of the trail where a meadow spreads out, covered in clover and wildflowers at this time of year, I hear something.

A woman.

"Oh, shoot, shoot, shoot." The voice echoes through the woods. "Please, say this didn't happen." The words are followed by a long groan.

I jog toward the sound. And when I crest the top of the hill, I see her, Rapunzel, the woman whose head was sticking out of the RV passing by me and Plum last weekend while we sat at the diner.

She's holding her ankle, wincing. When she sees me, though, her eyes widen. "Oh, thank God you're here," she says.

"Are you okay?" I ask, instantly realizing it was a stupid question.

"I was," she says, shaking her head.

Coming upon her, I realize just how beautiful she is. Her hair is long, past her waist, wavy and golden in the sunlight. She's wearing a flowing linen sundress and Birkenstocks. She has leather bracelets wrapped around her wrist and her face and skin can best be described as glowing.

I kneel down beside her. "Hey," I say, "did you just fall?"

She groans. "Yeah. First I got lost, which I know is stupid to do, but these woods are pretty big and I got all turned around. I should have brought a compass or something. And then I fell. It hurts so bad." She groans.

"Is it a sprain?" I ask. "Or something worse?"

“Nothing is broken.”

"Do you mind?" I ask, reaching for her foot. She leans back on her hands, sitting between these wildflowers, looking like she's just sprouted up from the ground, innocent and natural and real in a way that takes my breath away. "I'm Reuben," I say.

"I'm Meadow," she tells me. I smile.

"That's fitting," I say, considering we're in the prettiest meadow of the Rough Forest.

"You know these woods?"

I nod. "Yeah. I'm Reuben Rough," I tell her. "I've always lived here."

She smiles. "Lucky." Then she winces. "Oh gosh, it really hurts."

"I think it's a sprain. I'd say just a sprain, but considering how much pain you're in, I'm guessing you're not going to like me using that word."

"If it's just a sprain, I'm really glad nothing’s broken. Because I don't think I could handle it."

"You have a low pain tolerance?"

She twists her pink lips. "I've never broken a bone."

I chuckle. "I have. I broke my arm, my leg, and my wrist. I have four brothers. So it goes with the territory."

She laughs. "That's hilarious. I also have four brothers, and one sister."

"Wow," I say. "We're both from big families. “I’ve got two sisters."

“Well, if I count my sister-in-law, we are neck-and-neck.” She smiles, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. She has the cutest elfin quality to her, an upturned nose, a slender jaw, a long neck. Her shoulders are narrow. Her fingers, though, are covered in callouses. Her nails are short. Weird to notice, but I can't help taking her in, all of her.

"What?" she asks. "You're looking at me like it's really bad."

I shake my head, "No, no. I was just—I think I saw you last week."

She frowns. "Really? I think I would've remembered if we met."

"I was at the diner in town and I saw two RVs come by. They were covered in the most elaborate murals I've ever seen on a vehicle. And you had your head out of the back. Your hair was..." I shake my head, embarrassed.

"What?" she says.

"It was blowing in the wind. And I just thought, well, you kind of look like Rapunzel."

She smiles. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Stop it," I say. I'm still holding her foot. She looks down.

"I feel like Cinderella, actually, as if you're going to try to put a glass slipper on my foot."

I laugh then, hard. "That's good," I say, "but I don't have a glass slipper in my bag. Just water and trail mix. Are you hungry?"

She laughs. "No, not for that. I don't know how I'm going to get home."

"Where are you staying?"

"At the Rough Valley Campground. I think it's several miles from here. Honestly, I’m really lost. I was so caught up in how pretty it is that I lost track of time and where the trail head was."

"I think you're about four miles from the campgrounds."

"Oh, crap," she says. "And my phone died to top it off."

Tags: Frankie Love Romance
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