Page 60 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
We both know what’s coming. Neither of us says it.
The sound of the engine grows louder, breaking the fragile stillness. Caleb rolls out of bed and runs a hand through his hair, the movement so familiar now it hurts to watch.
"That’ll be your ride."
I nod, my throat too tight to speak.
We dress in silence, the domesticity suddenly sharp-edged. My sweater smells like woodsmoke. His flannel ends up draped over the chair where I left it last night.
Every motion feels like a goodbye.
I check my gear, pack my bag, and tuck my camera away like it’s the only piece of this place I can take with me. My heart feels heavier than my pack.
Outside, the engine cuts off. Doors slam. Voices call his name. He heads toward the door, pausing with one hand on the knob.
"Ready?"
I nod. It's a lie.
Two rangers wait outside, smiling. A woman with a short buzz cut. A tall man with a salt-and-pepper beard. Their warmth feels almost cruel.
"You must be the stranded photographer. Name’s Hamilton."The woman extends her hand. "Sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure."
"Harper Wells." I force a smile, brittle at the edges. "Adventure’s one word for it."
"Marty Shore," the older man introduces himself. "We should be able to get you back to recover your gear. Flooding was pretty severe, but the parking lot remained dry. Your car is good. Can’t say the same about the rest of your gear."
"Well, that’s one good thing. Gear is replaceable. The rental would’ve been a pain to deal with if it had been destroyed."
"You’re not wrong about that." Hamilton loads my gear into their vehicle.
Caleb helps, his expression neutral, his movements efficient. When his eyes meet mine, the weight of everything unsaid presses down like snowfall.
When it’s done, the rangers give us a few minutes under the guise of checking tire pressure. Caleb and I stand before the cabin. The place that held a storm—and something more.
"So."
"So."
We mirror each other. Guarded. Unsure.
"Safe travels," he says. Too formal. Too distant.
"Thanks for the shelter. And everything else."
He nods. Looks away. I wait, praying for something more.
When he looks back, emotion flickers across his face. But the mask returns too fast.
"You should go. Don’t want to hold up the rangers."
"Right."
I turn. Start walking.
Behind me?—
"Harper."
