Page 80 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

“I need to go,” she says on a rushed exhale. “I’m sorry, it’s a family emergency.”

Abby appears out of nowhere, breaking into our little circle with a concerned look on her face.

“What’s going on?” Abby asks as she appears at Hunter’s side. She searches our faces and goes wide-eyed with concern as she looks at Marlow. “What happened, Marlow? Are you okay?”

Abby breaks eye contact with Marlow for a split second – just long enough to shoot me a look that says ‘I’ll cut off your balls if you made her cry again.’ Instead of being annoyed, I’m grateful for Abby’s protectiveness…and maybe a tiny bit scared. Marlow hasn’t had a lot of people in her life that she can depend on, but Abby is the most fiercely loyal friend anyone could ask for. I admire the hell out of that woman, both for what she’s been through and for the fact that she can handle Hunter’s grumpy ass. He’s the closest thing that I’ve ever had to a brother, which makes Abby my sister-in-law, but also a close friend of mine. Or at least she was until she started giving me that look. Now I’m afraid to let her anywhere near the box of plastic cutlery.

“It’s my mom…she had a stroke.” Marlow’s voice breaks on the last word. “She’s in the hospital in Chicago. I think I need to go.”

“Yeah, of course, go on,” Hunter says. “Take whatever time you need.”

“Thank you,” Marlow says as she turns to head to the parking lot.

“You got this?” Hunter asks me.

I nod.

Abby grabs my arm before I take off after Marlow. “Keep us posted, okay?”

“I will.”

I catch up to Marlow as she’s trying to fish her keys out of her purse. Even though I wasn’t exactly stealthy in my approach, she doesn’t seem to know I’m there until I press a hand lightly to the center of her back.

“Come on, I’ll drive,” I say.

“No, Ryan, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You’re upset. Just let me drive you, okay?”

Marlow chews her lips for a second, but finally nods and allows me to guide her to my truck. Her hands shake as she uses her phone to look up flights to Chicago. She curses under her breath as she scrolls.

“How long does it take to get to Charlotte from here?” she asks.

“About three hours.”

Another curse.

Marlow dips her head back, letting it land against the headrest as she takes a deep breath.

“No luck?” I ask.

“There’s a flight out of Charlotte, but it leaves in two hours. The next available flight after that isn’t until Monday.”

Tears are welling up in her eyes. She fights them back with a sniffle. I want to gather her up in my arms, but I settle for reaching over and giving her hand a soft squeeze. She straightens up and squeezes my hand back.

The bakery is packed, as usual. I go in first, clearing a path through the crowd. Inside her apartment, Marlow is frantically gathering items. There isn’t much I can do to help her pack. For a minute, I think she even forgets that I’m there. She starts to unbutton her uniform top and my breath hitches involuntarily. Her cheeks turn pink, and she gathers up her change of clothing before retreating to the bathroom.

While she’s changing, I do my best to pack up any items that she might have missed. I grab her phone charger from the outlet near the bed then some socks and pajamas because I noticed she didn’t pack either.

Marlow emerges from the bathroom wearing her only pair of jeans and a white top. Her hair is twisted up into a bun and she’s dabbing a tissue at the corners of her eyes. I wish there was timefor me to admire her properly, but we have a long drive ahead of us.

“Ready?” I ask.

Her shoulders slump as she looks up at me. “Ryan, you don’t need to drive me to the airport. I’m not even sure what I’m going to do yet. I might see if I can get on standby for a flight out of Knoxville tonight, or maybe I can make it to Charlotte in two hours if I hurry…”

She isn’t thinking clearly.

“I’m not driving you to the airport,” I say.

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