Page 30 of Worth the Fall
The drive out of the city was gorgeous. With towering red rocks, a stunning canyon covered with green trees, and a ton of signs offering hikes. I had a few extra days in town, so I might as well try one.
The happy feeling filled my heart again.
The driver took me to a tiny town called Parowan. It didn’t have a single stoplight, had one hotel, and the smallest market I’d ever seen. It was adorable.
The only hotel seemed brand new and oddly out of place for how small the town was. I thanked my driver and took my bags inside. I checked in under my company name and got my key card. The room, with one queen bed, a very nice bathroom, and a balcony that overlooked the town, was perfect. It was all I could ask for.
I peeled off the top comforter and collapsed on the bed, laughing slightly as it bounced me.
A landscape picture hung above the bed and caught my attention. I squinted to read the plaque below it.
Cedar Breaks
It was the most beautiful photo I had ever seen. I pulled out my phone and searched the internet. It turned out it was only twenty-five minutes away. Though I was tempted to call a car to take me up there, it was already after five. I had a few days to myself, and the travel exhaustion was starting to catch up to me.
I freshened up in the bathroom and changed my clothes before calling a car. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror before I left the room.
I was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a half-buttoned-up shirt, something more casual than I had worn in years. My hair was braided out of my face from the flight, and I hadn’t bothered to straighten or curl it.
I looked different, but a gooddifferent?
Perhaps.
I climbed into the car and asked the driver to take me to the cafe I had seen on Main Street.
Harrison texted as soon as I clicked my seatbelt into place.
You never texted when you landed. Am I assuming you’re still alive?
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I typed back,Still alive. Come to the rodeo Monday night, and we can go to dinner afterwards.
I still hadn’t decided what I was going to say or what my choice was going to be. But I had a few days to myself to figure all that out.
For the first time in years, I didn’t have a plan.
Did I like this feeling, or did it scare me?
I wasn’t sure yet.
The driver let me out right outside the cafe and waved as he drove off. I walked in, not sure what I was expecting.
It was tiny. A counter with stools, six tables, a bathroom, and a kitchen. It was the smallest restaurant I had ever seen.
I laughed tomyself and took a seat.
It was not crowded, though, with the number of tables it had; I wasn’t sure it could ever be considered crowded. There was a young family with rowdy kids, a few blue-collar workers covered in grease or dirt–I wasn’t sure which–and a few cowboys sitting at the counter.
The waitress set a laminated menu in front of me. “Hi, darlin’. What drink can I get for you?”
I ignored the usual response I had planned and asked for a soda. She said she’d be right back with that and to take my order.
When she brought my soda back, I resisted the urge to ask for a small salad. “Which burger do you recommend?” I asked.
She leaned beside me, smelling like cheap floral perfume. “My favorite is the Wrangler Burger, but you can’t go wrong with any of them.”
“That’s great, thank you.”
“Fries on the side?”
