Page 1 of Spooking the Mountain Man
one
Kelly
I'mtwenty-twoyearsold,armed with a college degree and a bruised heart, and I'm moving back into my childhood bedroom like some kind of failure. The pink walls with their faded unicorn stickers mock me as I drop my single suitcase on the twin bed covered in a quilt my grandmother made when I was twelve.
"This is temporary," I tell myself, smoothing down the corner of a peeling rainbow sticker. "Just until I figure things out."
The house feels too quiet without Mom and Dad, who are somewhere in the Caribbean celebrating their twenty-fifth anniversary. They offered to cancel their cruise when I called crying three weeks ago, but I couldn't ruin their dream vacation just because my life imploded.
"Kelly's a big girl now," Dad had said on the phone, though his voice was tight with worry. "She can handle herself for a few weeks."
Except I can't, apparently. Not after six months of Derek telling me I was too naive, too trusting, too everything that wasn't good enough for him. He'd isolated me from my friends, criticized every decision I made, and convinced me I needed him to function in the real world. Walking away from that relationship felt like ripping off my own skin, leaving me raw and uncertain about everything.
The front door slams downstairs, followed by heavy footsteps and my brother's voice. "Kelly? You here?"
"Upstairs!" I call, grateful for the distraction from my spiral of self-pity.
Tyler bounds up the stairs two at a time, his work boots thundering against the old wooden steps. He fills the doorway of my bedroom, all six-foot-three of him, still wearing his Darkmore Lumber Company shirt and smelling like sawdust and pine.
"Whoa, this room is a time capsule," he says, grinning as he takes in the unicorn stickers and boy band posters I was too sentimental to take down when I left for college. "Remember when you wouldn't sleep without that stupid stuffed elephant?"
"Mr. Peanuts was not stupid," I protest, then immediately feel silly for defending a childhood toy. Derek would have rolled his eyes and made some cutting comment about me being immature.
Tyler's expression softens. "Hey, you okay? You look..."
"Like hell?" I finish for him.
"I was going to say tired." He perches on the edge of my bed, making the old frame creak. "But yeah, a little like hell too. That guy really did a number on you, didn't he?"
I shrug, not trusting my voice. Tyler's always been protective, but after our parents told him about the breakup, he's been hovering like I might shatter at any moment. It's sweet, but it also makes me feel more broken than I already do.
"Listen," Tyler says, running a hand through his dark hair. "I hate to do this to you, but I got called out on an emergency job. Tree fell across the logging road up in the Whistler Basin, and they need a crew to clear it before the weather turns. I'll be gone for about three weeks, maybe more if we hit complications."
My stomach drops. "Three weeks?"
"I know, I know. Crappy timing." He looks genuinely apologetic. "But it's good money, and with winter coming..."
"It's fine," I lie, already imagining three weeks alone in this house with nothing but my thoughts and the ghosts of better times. "I'll be fine."
Tyler studies my face with the same intense scrutiny he used to employ when I claimed I definitely hadn't eaten the last piece of pie. "Actually, I had an idea about that. You remember Callum MacReady?"
Do I remember Callum MacReady?
Only the way you remember a lightning strike or a car accident – something so intense and overwhelming that it leaves an impression on your nervous system. Callum has been Tyler's best friend since they were teenagers, and he's always been this impossibly intimidating presence on the periphery of my life. Tall, broad, and built like he could bench press a small car, with dark hair and blue eyes that always seemed to see right through whatever brave face I was putting on.
"The guy who never talks and always looks like he's planning someone's murder?" I ask.
"That's the one." Tyler grins. "Callum's not that bad once you get to know him. And he's been living in that cabin of his like some kind of hermit lately. I was thinking I could ask him to stay here while I'm gone. You know, just to keep an eye on things."
"I don't need a babysitter, Tyler."
"I didn't say you did. But there's been some weird stuff happening around town lately. Halloween pranks getting a littleout of hand, you know? Mrs. Hawkins found her garden gnomes arranged into some kind of ritual formation. And someone's been leaving carved pumpkins on people's porches."
"Teenagers," I say dismissively.
"Probably. But still." Tyler's jaw sets in that stubborn way that means he's already made up his mind. "I'd feel better knowing someone was here. And Callum could use the company. He's been... I don't know, different since he got back from that job in the oil sands. Quieter than usual, if you can believe that."
I can believe it. In all the years I've known Callum MacReady, I've probably heard him speak maybe fifty words total. He's the strong, silent type taken to an almost comical extreme. But there's something about him that's always made my pulse race in a way that's definitely not fear.
