by Ivy Jordan
My head bandage? I lifted my hand to my head, pushing my hair away from my forehead to feel the bandage attached to my skin. I cringed as my fingers rolled across the sore wound. That explains why I couldn’t remember—I hit my head. But it still didn’t explain what I was doing here.
His hand patted the cushion on the couch beside him. My weight was pushing my pain to heights I couldn’t handle much longer. I felt myself start to give in, to just fall, but I wasn’t ready to admit defeat just yet. I strained, pushing a loud yell from my lips that caused the man to stand quickly from his seat and move towards me.
I couldn’t run. I could barely stand.
Tension tightened in my shoulders as his strong arm wrapped around me, pushing under my arms to support my weight.
Up close, in the glow of the fireplace light, he was handsome—rugged, but extremely handsome. His smile was warm, kind, and for some reason eased my tension and offered some relief. I let him help me to the couch where I sat as he’d suggested moments earlier.
The cabin was one large room, the bed I’d woken up in pushed against the far left corner. A large fireplace was the focal point with the couch we sat on placed directly in front of the flickering flames. A kitchen was pushed off to the side. It was simple with just a small black refrigerator, an old gas stove, and a stainless steel sink big enough to bathe in. There were candles placed throughout the cabin, all burnt to at least half way down.
“No electricity?” I asked, not turning to look at the man who sat beside me, but instead, continuing to scan the room for clues as to where I was.
“It was a bad storm. No one was expecting it, not even you, I suppose,” he answered.
What had I done, or not done, to plan for this unexpected storm? He still hadn’t told me how I got here. I turned towards him. His long, shaggy, blond hair glowed against the flame that began to revive under the large black log that once smothered it. He had light blue eyes with speckles of gold that glistened and danced along with the growing fire. If I’d met him before, I knew I’d remember. There would be no way to forget a man so handsome as the stranger beside me.
Chapter Three
Xander
The frail woman I found on the path below my cabin woke up to be an alley cat. Her fire red hair frizzed from its braid, her full lips tightened, and her green eyes were filled with fear. Even though she was obviously scared, she impressed me with her bold and feisty demeanor.
I hadn’t been aware of her leg injury until I watched her struggle to stand. The pain she was suffering from didn’t stop her spunk. “How’s that leg?” I asked, avoiding making any movement towards her.
The bruise on her cheek covered what looked to be a cluster of freckles. Cute. The bandage I’d placed on her forehead was starting to loosen, and the blood from her wound was showing through. She reached down, rubbing her left leg, and moaned as her hand pressed against her thigh. “I don’t know. It hurts,” she grumbled. “My hip feels broken too,” she added, struggling to situate comfortably on the couch.
“Can I take a look?” I asked, glancing down at her jeans, not spotting any blood. She’d taken a good fall. If her hip was in fact broken, or her leg, I could tend to it well enough with my SEAL training, but I knew I’d have to figure out a way to get her off this mountain and to a hospital quick.
“How did I get here?” she asked, ignoring my concern about her injuries.
“I found you about a half mile or so down the mountain. You fell. Just lucky I was outside when you were still able to cry out for help,” I explained, even though she didn’t actually call out for help. Her moans were enough to send me on the hunt, but they were nearly shrugged off as wild creatures. I hadn’t been here long enough to know everything that lived on this mountain.
“How long have I been here?” she asked, her head falling into her hands.
“About eight hours,” I replied.
She lifted her head, staring into me with the greenest eyes I’d ever saw. I couldn’t tell if she was about to cry or curse me out again. I was hoping for the latter. I wasn’t good with crying women. Too gruff, or so I’d been told.
“I bandaged your head and tried waking you, but you were out cold. I didn’t think I could make it to the bottom of the mountain before the storm took hold, so I brought you here,” I filled her in on some of the details. I was still curious about the other details, like who she was, and why on earth she was on that path alone with no phone, no identification, and no regard for the grey skies that lurked above her as she ascended the path.
“What was I doing there?” she asked, a strange confusion filling in her eyes. That was my question.
“Hiking, I assume. Although, I wasn’t sure why in this weather, and alone without any phone,” I shrugged.
“There wasn’t anyone with me?” she questioned, as if she thought there should be.
“I didn’t see anyone. Was someone with you?” I asked, now worried that I’d left someone on the path and under this ten inches of snow.
She shrugged her shoulders and let out a sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I did check both sides of the path, and I didn’t see anyone,” I offered as some relief. She didn’t seem relieved. Her eyebrows pushed down on her face, and her bottom lip slid under her top teeth. She looked confused about something, but I wasn’t sure what. “I didn’t mean to intrude by looking in your bag. I just wanted to find out who you were, find a phone so I could call someone, to let them know you were safe,” I proclaimed.
Her head shook slightly, and her eyes started to fill with tears. Shit, here comes the waterworks. “Is there someone I can call?” I asked.
Large tears flopped from her eyes as her head continued to shake. “I don’t know,” she sobbed, pushing her head into her hands.
Panic set into my bones like arthritis as I struggled with what to do, what to say. My hand slid to her back to offer some comfort, but she quickly jerked away, rejecting my attempt to console her.
“There has to be someone,” I offered, returning to my own space on the couch beside her.
“That’s just it. If there is someone, I can’t remember who that is,” she sobbed, her eyes wide and red as they locked onto mine.
“You can’t remember?” I questioned curiously.
Her head shook as more tears found their way down her rosy cheeks. She really was a beautiful woman, even filled with grief. “You hit your head pretty good, so maybe a bit more rest, and you’ll remember,” I assured her.
Her lips curled into a half-smile, and her eyes brightened with what appeared to be a gleam of hope. “Let’s start with the easy stuff. What’s your name?” I asked, figuring that would be a no-brainer.
Her stare was distant, as if she were in deep thought of a long past memory. A few seconds went by, and no more tears rolled from her eyes, but she looked more frustrated than before. Her lips parted, a soft sigh escaped her mouth, and then she leaned back onto the couch. “I don’t know,” she whispered, still staring out into space.
“Okay. No need to panic. It’s probably just the trauma,” I smiled, standing from the couch and heading quickly into the bathroom. “I’ll get you some medicine to reduce swelling,” I called to her as I rummaged through my medicine chest for the steroids the doctor had given me for my knee. I wasn’t a doctor, but in the military, we learned to improvise. I knew how to improvise with almost anything, but a woman found on the path below my cabin with no memory? That was a new one.
I found the small white pills with just the light of the candle above the toilet and grabbed a bottle of water on my way back to the couch. “What’s this?” she questioned.
“Prednisone,” I explained. “They’ll help with inflammation, and hopefully help with your memory loss,” I smiled, pushing the pills and the water towards her.
She appeared reluctant, but took the pills anyway. She swallowed three of them and took a large swig of water to wash them down. I couldn’t imagine what was going on inside of her
head, if anything. How could she not remember anything, not even her name?
“I have to call you something,” I sighed. “I’m Xander,” I formally introduced myself to the woman who’d slept in my bed for the last eight hours.
“Thank you for everything,” she said so softly I could barely hear. “I don’t know what you could call me,” she almost giggled, but then swallowed hard as tears formed in her eyes once again.
It was obvious, whoever she was, she had spunk and a sense of humor, two things I’d always admired in women. “I’ll spout off some names, you tell me if any of them sound right,” I suggested and then immediately began rambling names. Jessica, Mary, Cindy, Lana, Pauline, and Teresa were all a quick head shake, and at times, a wrinkled nose to go along with it. “Bailey.” I continued. This time she didn’t shake her head, but instead paused on my eyes with a new expression. Her head nodded, and a slight smile appeared on her lips. “Nice to meet you, Bailey,” I smiled, extending my hand to hers.
It was a relief to have a name for her, even if it may not be correct. It was one that she liked, connected to, or at least found familiar. Bailey it is.
“Why don’t we get you back to bed, and I’ll make you some dinner,” I offered, standing from the couch and extending my hand to her yet again. I was slightly surprised at how quickly she accepted my help, especially since she’d been so stubborn earlier.
“I really should get to the hospital. What if someone’s looking for me?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
“I’m afraid if anyone’s looking for you, they aren’t doing it up here. The storm’s gotten worse, and there’s no way to get up or down this mountain,” I explained. I could get down from this mountain if I wanted to, but with Bailey to keep safe, it wasn’t worth the risk. She’d be just fine resting here, and after the storm, we’d find out who she really was and if someone was looking for her.
No ring on her finger told me she wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t attached. She was old enough to be out of college and away from home, but still may have lived with parents. Nothing about her gave me clues as to her profession, her lifestyle, or her life. I knew she liked to hike, didn’t watch the weather, and was stubborn, spunky, and beautiful.
Bailey reluctantly agreed to allow me to help her back into the bed. She could barely walk, and it was clear her ankle was starting to swell as she hobbled along. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms, to carry her the rest of the way, but I feared she may find that a little too intrusive, so I let her walk.
She thanked me again as I tucked her into bed. I left her bottle of water on the nightstand and retreated into the kitchen to heat up the fish I’d made for dinner earlier that day.
I hoped she’d remember more in the morning, not only for her sake, but mine as well. I hated mystery. I liked knowing what was going on at all times. Ever since I left the SEALs, I wasn’t a fan of surprises.
Chapter Four
Bailey
My eyes opened to darkness. Only a small flame in the fireplace, and one lit candle across the room offered a glimpse to my surroundings. The large room was familiar, and the man with long shaggy blonde hair and goatee on the couch was a warm relief to see, even though it was only his silhouette.
I knew it was obvious he’d rescued me, saved me from a cold, horrible death on that trail below his cabin. My knight in shining plaid. I giggled to myself as I struggled to sit up in the bed. Everything hurt worse than I’d remembered when falling asleep. My bladder was full, pushing against other organs and creating a cramp that made me fear to move.
The small door to the bathroom was across the room, only a few steps, but might as well be a thousand miles. My hip burnt as I tried to slide my leg from the bed, causing me to let out a moan. I looked towards the silhouette on the couch. It appeared to stir, but remained lying down.
It had to be extremely early since the sun hadn’t yet come out. Looking out the window, I noticed the glow of white from the snow that had fallen on the ground. I hoped it was over, that the storm had finally passed, and that I’d be able to make it down this mountain. I still wasn’t sure where I was going once I left or who would be waiting for me. Everything seemed foggy.
I bit down, and tried moving once again. The stiffness from the swelling in my hip and ankle prevented me from lifting up on my own. Xander, my savior, was still silent on the couch across the room. I knew I needed help, but I hated to intrude. I’d already taken over his bed and his life. Shit, the pain was so bad. I had to make it to the restroom to empty my bladder soon, or it would do it for me, right here on these blue sheets. “Umm…Xander,” I muttered, not loud enough to wake him in case he was still sleeping. I watched hopefully as he began to stir and then lift from the couch.
“You okay?” he asked as he moved towards me.
I wasn’t. I wasn’t about to piss all over his bed. “I just need some help making it to the bathroom,” I explained.
He leaned over, lighting a candle so I could see the path we would take to the bathroom. His blue eyes shimmered in the light, and his smile was warm and soothing. “Of course,” he said softly.
He slid his arm behind my back, scooting me up on the bed. As I twisted to put my feet on the ground, I let out a moan of pain. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t take care of myself, but grateful he’d come to my aide. “Don’t rush,” he insisted. I chuckled. I had to rush. I’d stayed in the bed far too long struggling with whether or not to ask for his help. I needed to go. Now.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, helping to pull myself to my feet. My ankle ached so bad from the pressure of my weight, I nearly buckled. His strong arms caught me, holding me in place as he instructed me to put my weight on him instead of my bad ankle. “Do you want me to carry you?” he asked.
“No,” I said quickly. It was enough to ask him for help, but I wanted to walk. I needed to walk. At some point, hopefully soon, I was going to have to walk off this mountain.
It took everything I had in me to make it to the bathroom, even with his help. I shut the door while he insisted on waiting just outside until I was finished.
A small candle sat on the back of the toilet giving me enough light to see my surroundings. Inside the small room, there wasn’t much decoration or color. The walls were made of wood paneling, just like the rest of the cabin, and the only thing in the room besides the fixtures was a black razor on the sink. I chuckled at the sight of the unused object. The man outside the door was more than just a few days without a shave. I wondered if he ever shaved.
Finally, my bladder released, offering some relief, but not enough for comfort. I washed my hands, opened the door, and found Xander standing at attention, waiting to help me back to the bed. “I’m sorry I woke you,” I apologized.
“I wasn’t really asleep. I never am,” he smiled.
I hobbled alongside him, giving him most of my weight as we made it back to the bed. He helped me up, lifted the blankets around me, and asked if I needed anything. “Why are you out here all alone?” I asked.
“I like it like that,” he admitted with a grin.
The fact he’d made himself a home what seemed to be so far from town confused me and made me a little uneasy. What was he hiding from, or who?
“Have you lived here long?” I questioned, hoping to get some insight into his life, and lifestyle.
“No, just a couple months, maybe less,” he offered up.
“Where did you live before?” I pushed, still hoping to find some answers.
“Molokai,” he grinned. It was obvious he wasn’t excited about my questioning, but I couldn’t help my curiosity.
I started to ask him why he moved here, but I couldn’t remember where here was. Panic started to set in, and my chest began to ache. “Calm down,” he soothed me, stroking my hair from my face as my breathing grew rapid and uncontrolled. Tears pushed out of my eyes with a forceful rush, warming my cheeks and creating a look of panic on Xander’s face.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, wiping my eyes.
Xander didn’t respond, he just turned from me and walked away. I tried to slow my breathing as I watched him enter the bathroom, and then exit with a handful of tissue. “Here,” he smiled, handing me the wad of toilet paper.
I blew my nose, cleared my throat, and stared into the man’s dreamy blue eyes. He truly was handsome, even if he was a fugitive, a recluse, or worse, a mountainside slayer.
“Thank you,” I smiled. “I just feel so alone. I don’t know if there is anyone looking for me, or if there is, who that’d be,” I admitted.
“As soon as the storm lets up, we’ll get you out of here. Until then, I’ll take care of you,” he smiled. “You’re safe, that’s all that matters for now. When the storm is over, and you’re better, we’ll get you back into town,” he sighed. Something shifted in his voice when he mentioned town. I assumed living out here all alone the way he did, that town wasn’t his favorite place to be, but why?
“How long do you think that’ll be?” I questioned.
“There’s already fifteen inches on the ground, and the radio said another ten is expected by nightfall,” he responded.
I felt sick to my stomach. I was never getting off this mountain.
I tried not to display the panic I felt on my face, but from the look of Xander’s, it was obvious I’d failed.
“Let me look at that wound,” he leaned in, carefully removing the bandage from my head. “Looks great,” he assured me, getting up to retreat into the bathroom.
I heard him fumbling through the medicine chest, and then he returned with a yellow box with a red cross on it. I let him clean the wound, and then reapply the bandage, only flinching once. My head didn’t hurt that bad, only when he touched it with the alcohol sopped cotton ball. Why was my memory so foggy if my hip and ankle were banged up worse than my head?
“Can I check the ankle?” he asked.
I nodded, anxious to see the damage myself. He lifted the blanket from my leg, and carefully touched the swollen joint. “It’s pretty swollen,” he proclaimed. Well, I didn’t need a doctor for that. “I’ll get some ice. You need to stay off of it today,” he instructed.