Page 33 of Meeting Me, Loving You (Hearts of Maple Lake #1)

CAMERON

T ime passes slowly between each of my adventures with Jules.

I find my mind is always racing ahead of my body, aching to see her, like she’s just around the corner everywhere I go.

We’ve been spending more time together than I had originally planned, and it’s tangling the wires between my brain and my heart.

What started out as a simple list of tourist activities that would act as a tool to push Juliet toward having a little fun, has gradually turned into Friday night movie nights and Saturday lunches.

As winter departed and spring arrived, Jules seemed to open up a little more, like the blooms of the maple tree on the warmest of spring days.

Days have turned into weeks, and weeks into months as May finally rolls around, bringing a mix of rain and sunshine.

Although Jules is still as busy as ever with work and classes, we’ve easily fallen into a rhythm of spending our weekends together.

I help her study while she often makes us coffee at her apartment.

On sunny days, we take Dax for a hike on the mountain or let him run around the cabin while we grill on the deck.

I notice Jules looks more relaxed when she’s on the mountain, away from the heart of town.

Tyler has visited Maple Lake every month since our outing in Sansville, and the last time he brought his girlfriend, Sandra.

Jules confided in me before meeting her that she was intimidated by the idea of his girlfriend taking Tyler away.

But their meeting was friendly, and they really hit it off.

And Tyler seems taken with her—a fool in love.

My thumb slides over my phone until I find the list of tourist activities I’ve chosen for the Spring months. We never did make another plan to go biking, so I send a quick text to Jules.

Nurse Jules, do you have plans for this Saturday?

Jules

Nurse Jules? That’s a new one. And nope, just schoolwork.

Can I convince you to go biking with me instead?

Jules

I might be persuaded if you help me study for Statistical Literacy.

Only if you let me cook you dinner after.

Jules

You don’t have to do that. We can get pizza.

I want to. We’ll bike in the morning, study all afternoon, and I’ll make dinner at my place.

Jules

Okay… but Cam?

Yeah?

Jules

Don’t hate me if I fall and embarrass you.

On Saturday morning, we’re on the bike trail.

The path is paved and smooth, making it an easy activity for any level of cyclist. Jules and I rented bicycles at a cool bike shop situated on the side of the thirty-two-mile loop.

We don’t plan to bike the whole thing, and judging by the labored breathing coming from Jules beside me, we won’t be going very far at all.

“Sorry, I’m not good at cardio,” she says between breaths. The three miles we’ve done already show she’s good enough to come this far. But I worry about the miles back.

“You’ve been doing great! Why don’t we turn around here and head back?”

She looks over at me. The helmet she’s wearing is pink, making the deep brown of her hair seem extra vibrant, while small tendrils stick to the sweat on her neck.

The May weather has been amazing for most outdoor activities, and today will be reaching sixty—the perfect temperature for working up a sweat from a cardiovascular activity.

With the weather being warm but not yet hot enough to be a nuisance, I’ve been spending many of my evenings fishing on the lake, reminiscing again about the days I’d spend there with Pops .

The sound of the river trickling over rocks beside the paved path makes the act of biking here almost meditative. Leaves sway and rustle in the trees above us, and sunshine speckles the trail in splashes of light as it fights to get through the dense trees.

Jules slows to a stop, and I do the same.

“Are you sure you want to head back?” She’s out of breath and I worry I already pushed her too far in one day.

“Totally sure! My quads are starting to feel it too. I’m ready to call it quits.” I could actually do a few more miles, but I want her to have a good time. And pushing her past her limit wouldn’t do anything but make me look like a jerk.

“Okay. How far do you think we’ve gone?”

“I’d say close to three miles, if not a little over. I saw a mile marker not long ago, but I didn’t get a good look at it. I was trying to avoid these potholes that keep coming out of nowhere.”

“They’re pretty bad, right?”

She turns her bike around, and I follow suit.

While Jules tiptoes her bike forward, rolling in a tight circle, I simply stand, straddling the bike, and pick it up off the ground.

I turn 180 degrees in place, before placing it back down, my bike and I now pointing in the direction of the rental shop.

Jules stares at me. “Show off.”

I just laugh and shrug my shoulders. “One of the perks of being six foot four. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Right, let me just grow seven inches. I’ll be right back.”

Her tires roll as she begins peddling again, quickly picking up speed. But she’s looking back at me instead of watching where she’s going. She’s smiling and laughing, and it’s only when it’s too late that I see the pothole she’s heading for.

“Jules, watch?—”

Later, my mind will play this back a hundred times in slow motion.

Jules hits the pothole with her front tire, and the front of her bike turns wildly at a sharp ninety-degree angle.

Jules’ hands slip from the handlebars. Her body lunges forward as the bike comes to an abrupt stop in the pit and throws her over the front.

It all happens in a second, but it’s like I see it playing out over the course of minutes.

One minute she’s laughing, and the next she’s thrown onto the pavement as the bike collapses in a tangle of tires and metal bars.

I throw my leg over my bike, pushing it to the ground as I rush to Jules as fast as I possibly can.

“Jules!” I kneel beside her, already assessing every place I see red leaking from her skin.

She’s laying on her back, unmoving, although her eyes are open, and they’re filled with tears.

I know she hit her head, she practically did a somersault over the handles, but she’s wearing a helmet which might have just saved her life.

“Jules, can you hear me?” I know there’s panic in my voice, but I can’t control it. I try to stay as calm as I can, for her sake, but I just watched Juliet get thrown over a bike and slam her head onto the ground.

Her eyes move slowly to me. “I can hear you.” Her voice is hoarse as she fights back the emotions and the pain.

“Where do you hurt the most?” I ask. One of her shoulders is bleeding through the strap of her tank top, and she has scrapes on both her hands and elbows.

I let my eyes scan every inch of her, from her bare shoulders and down her thighs, to her calves and ankles.

Her legs don’t look scratched up, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t hurt them with the impact.

“My shoulder hurts the most I think.” A tear runs down her cheek and her chin trembles. She tries to sit up, so I rest a hand behind her neck to support her head and guide her to a sitting position. She winces with the movement .

“What is it? Do you want to lay back down?”

“No, it’s my ankle. I think I twisted it or something… Can you help me get the helmet off?”

I gently unclasp the buckle under her chin, removing the helmet with all the tenderness I can in case there’s a head wound.

Her bleeding shoulder is scraped raw to where I can almost see white tissue under the skin, and it’s ingrained with dirt and tiny bits of loose gravel.

Blood begins to slide down her shoulder as it leaks through her tank top.

We need to stop the bleeding, especially since I don’t know how deep the cut is. I don’t have anything to use as a bandage, so I take off my shirt and reach for her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Jules, in her confusion, is staring at my chest, not at my face.

“We need to stop the bleeding on your shoulder. This is the only thing I have.”

“Right,” she says, dazed. “Okay, but be gentle. It really hurts.”

I rest the bunched-up T-shirt against her shoulder, moving slowly. She pulls air in through her teeth as it makes contact, but she allows me to press it a little firmer against her skin.

I note that the tattoo under her collarbone wasn’t scraped. She’ll be happy about that.

“How will we get back? I don’t think I can ride anymore.” Jules’ voice is quiet, and I know she’s doing everything she can to keep her emotions in check.

“It’s fine, we’ll leave the bikes here and I’ll carry you back.”

Her eyes go wide.

“You’re going to carry me three miles back?”

“I have to. You can’t ride the bike with a twisted ankle and a possible concussion, not to mention you’re bleeding all over the place.”

“Can’t we call someone? ”

“We left our phones in my truck.”

“I’m sure someone will come by soon. We’ve been passing other bikers.

” As optimistic as she’s trying to sound, she’s beginning to panic, and I wonder if it’s from the rush of adrenaline taking over her body after the accident or if the thought of me carrying her really bothers her.

I am shirtless after all, so that could play into it.

My legs are starting to burn from the sudden stillness after biking as I squat beside her.

I know if I don’t start moving now, it’ll become harder for me to carry her back to the truck.

I take my helmet off and lay it on the ground by hers, noticing that the one she wore now has a crack in the plastic. Gently, I take her hand.

“Juliet, you need to get to a hospital, and the only way you’re going to get there is if I start carrying you back right now. If we see someone on the way who has a cell phone, we’ll ask them to call 911. But the amount of blood you’re losing isn’t a good sign.”

She looks defeated, her eyes dropping.