Free Valentine from a Soldier by Makenna Jameison

strange man come traipsing through the woods with me.  You could be some serial killer for all I know.  Or maybe just a complete lunatic.   I’m in kind of a hurry here, so for the last time, goodbye.”
    A slight smile tugged at his lips, and I could tell that he was trying not to laugh at me.  Annoying, cocky, and handsome, I thought to myself.  Perfect.  “Well I’m glad you find it so funny,” I said, sulking.
    “Wait here,” he said, starting to turn away.  “I want to show you something.”  He jogged back to his Jeep and pulled out his gear.  It certainly looked like he had every intention of following me.  Both our cars were here, so they could probably trace his plates if something did happen.  But really, I knew better than to wander off with some random stranger.  It looked like I was going to have to make the long drive after all.
    He grabbed a newspaper from his front seat before slamming the door shut and walking back to me.  With his long stride, he quickly made it back to my side.  “Here you go,” he said, tossing the newspaper at me.
    I looked at it, confused, then glanced back up at him.
    “Open it up.  That’s all you need to know.”
    Curiosity getting the better of me, I unrolled the paper, glancing at the front page.  In bold, black letters, the headline jumped out at me.  “Local Hero Returns Home.”   Underneath was a picture of my mystery man, along with the caption, “Local Soldier Trent Harrison Returns Home After Saving Comrades in Afghanistan.”  I stared at it, dumbfounded, until Trent reached over and grabbed the paper back from me.
    “See?  I’m not a psychopath or a serial killer; I’m just a soldier on my way home.”
    The snow had stopped falling at this point, but the cold, dry air left me chilled to the bone.  It’d be warmer if we got moving, and the less time we spent standing around arguing, the sooner we’d be home.  Since he obviously wasn’t really a threat, I might as well let him come along.  He’d probably have better luck finding the way through the woods than me since I’d never so much as even been camping before.  He probably knew all sorts of survival techniques for the wilderness, so a quick hike would be a walk in the woods (ha!) for him.
    “Fine,” I said, giving in.  “You can come with me.  I’m Meghan, by the way.”
    “Trent,” he said, reaching out and engulfing my hand in his.  His large hand felt warm despite the chill, and I wondered how he wasn’t freezing to death out here, too.  Before I could say anything else, he quickly released my hand, his face returning to stone, and turned to walk toward the woods.  I silently followed behind him, hoping that I wasn’t making a big mistake.
     
     
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