Page 2 of Wild Peak

Wow.

Okay. I’m starting to see what all the fuss is about. Hunter and my brother Jake were right all those times they tried to coax me out for a day hike, calling me Brookeworm and promising me a picnic at the peak. Idolove this, just like they said I would. When was the last time I felt this awake? This alive?

Goosebumps prickle over my bare arms, and I’m still dazed by the time I stumble all the way up to the mountain peak.

My feet throb as I step on the flat rock, looking down at the valley below. Arms out, cool wind whipping at my clothes, I turn slowly and get a panoramic view. The landscape rises and falls all around me, green trees and bare rock and distant sparkling lakes.

White clouds skid past overhead, and crisp pine-scented air fills my lungs. My heart is still thumping hard, but not from fear anymore. From excitement.

I did it.

“Whoo!”

My happy yell is snatched away by the wind and tossed over the valley. Arms still spread, I wait for a few long, triumphant minutes, buffeted by the breeze.

Old Brooke would never have stayed exposed like this. She would never stand at the highest point on a mountain, dizzied by the views all around. She’d be curled up on the sofa back in her apartment, safe and secure and bored out of her mind.

One, two, three deep breaths before turning back toward the trail. I’ll head a little ways down and find somewhere sheltered from the wind, then I’m gonna go to town on the bran muffin in my bag. My stomach clenches and my mouth waters just thinking about it. Man, I could eat a whole bakery display right now.

I’m a few steps down from the peak when I hear it: a low, confused voice. It’s scratchier than I remember, like it hasn’t been used for a while, but I still recognize it instantly.

Hunter.

“Brookeworm? What are you doing up here?”

My head whips around in the direction of the voice, searching for my older brother’s best friend. It’s been years since I last saw him up close, and when I spot the man standing on the trail staring up at me, I nearly don’t recognize him. Instead of clean shaven, he’s bearded. His dark hair has grown out, curling around his ears, and a deep tan makes his blue eyes extra piercing. Thick muscle presses against his flannel shirt, more substantial than it used to be.

He looks older. Tired.

And alarmed, reaching out one hand in my direction.

“Careful—!”

A loose rock shifts beneath my boot, sliding out from under me and knocking me off balance. The whole way up here, I stared at the trail and chose every step so carefully, but Hunter’s appearance has thrown me off. I’m not watching my feet—I’m too busy gazing at him, dumbstruck.

Then the rock slips and the world tilts and my hands snatch at nothing. As my shoulder slams into the stony ground, the breath is knocked from my body.

Ow.

No time to gasp. My arm sings with pain, but the world keeps turning over and over as I tumble down the mountainside. Everything is a rocky blur.

Distantly, between my own grunts as I hit the ground over and over, I hear Hunter’s panicked yell.

You know, I always figured I’d fall head over heels for this guy if I wasn’t careful.

Never guessed it would be so literal.

Two

Hunter

Watching Brooke slip and tumble down the mountainside… Christ, I’ve never felt panic like that grip my body. Never felt so helpless and horrified. Fear is a rough hand around my throat, squeezing my airway, and my limbs feel like lead as I sprint toward her, my bones jangled by the hard rock.

No.

Not Brooke.

Not my Brooke.

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