Page 7

Ellie

I felt him leave the bed.

I felt him gently ease away from me, and I pretended not to wake up. I wasn’t sure why. But even without opening my eyes, I could imagine his face. It would be closed up, with a scowl between his brows. He’d look defeated. Guilty, even.

And I couldn’t face that. Not after last night. Not after the way he’d rocked my world and made me realize exactly what I really wanted.

I wanted him.

I knew I shouldn’t have let it happen, but I’d fallen or him. Hook, line and sinker.

I’d fallen the moment I’d turned around and saw my hook in his chest. Silly, but true.

I heard the soft click of the door closing behind him and sighed, rolling over to my back, staring up at the ceiling. I wanted to cry, but that was against the rules.

Catch a fish. Kiss a mountain man. Lose the V-card. Don’t cry about it.

I’d gone into his arms with my eyes wide open.

Too bad my heart had been wide open.

Too bad I’d let him in. All the way in. Past the sarcasm, past the sass. Into the quiet places where I’d never let anyone go.

I realized suddenly he and I were a lot alike that way.

Hesitant to let anyone close.

The morning light filtering through the curtains felt like an accusation. What had I expected? That one night would change everything? That a man who’d spent years building walls would tear them down because I’d given him my virginity?

I sat up, the sheet falling away, and caught sight of myself in the mirror across the room.

I looked different. Felt different. Like I’d been thoroughly loved and completely abandoned all in the span of twelve hours.

My lips were still swollen from his kisses.

My skin still tingled where his hands had mapped every curve.

Between my thighs, I was deliciously sore—a reminder of how completely he’d claimed me.

But apparently, claiming and keeping were two different things.

I pulled on my clothes with deliberate care, choosing my jeans and a soft blue t-shirt that brought out my eyes.

If this was going to be my last day in Montana, I was going to look good while being heartbroken.

The woman staring back at me from the mirror wasn’t the same one who’d arrived.

That woman had been afraid of her own shadow, content to live safely on the sidelines.

This woman—the one Nate had helped create with his patient teaching and devastating kisses—was stronger. Braver.

And maybe a little bit angry.

At myself.

At him.

At how good it had felt to believe, even for one night, that I could be wanted.

Even if my heart was currently shattered into a million pieces.

I knew there was only one thing left for me to do—go catch a damn fish before I left Montana. I gathered my gear with mechanical precision. Today, and for all the days after, I was going to be bold and brave. He’d given me that, at least.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and possibility. He wasn’t there at the river. But I’d known he wouldn’t be. He was probably in his cabin with his guilt and his regrets. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

I waded into the stream alone, the cold water shocking my system awake. For the first time since I’d arrived, I felt truly confident with the rod in my hands. My cast was smooth, controlled, landing exactly where I wanted it to.

“Not bad for a city girl,” I murmured to myself, and settled in to wait.

It didn’t take long. The fish hit my line with enthusiasm, and this time, I was ready. I played it carefully, letting it run when it needed to, reeling it in when I could. When I finally brought it to the surface—a beautiful rainbow trout, maybe sixteen inches—I felt a surge of pure triumph.

“Hello, gorgeous,” I said to the fish as I caught it in my net. He stared at me with big wide eyes. I took out the hook and held it in my hands, admiring its silvery scales in the morning light. “Looks like we both got hooked this week. And looks like we’re both getting let go.”

I gave it a kiss on its head before putting it back in the water. I stayed knee deep in the river, letting the cold water rush around me.

It wasn’t long before I heard footsteps on the rocks behind me, heavy boots that I’d know anywhere. My heart did a stupid little skip, but I forced myself not to move.

“Nice cast.”

I didn’t turn around. “Thanks. I had a good teacher.”

The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren’t saying. I could feel him watching me, could sense the tension radiating from his body even though he was still ten feet away.

“Ellie, we need to talk.”

“Do we?” I finally turned, fixing him with the kind of look I usually reserved for five-year-olds who’d been caught putting glue in someone’s hair. “Because I’m pretty sure you said everything you needed to say by sneaking out of my bed this morning.”

He flinched like I’d slapped him. “I didn’t sneak—”

“What would you call it then? Making a quiet, dignified exit? Sparing me the awkwardness of morning-after conversation?” I started breaking down my rod with practiced ease, my movements sharp and efficient. “Very considerate of you.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“It’s exactly what I think.” The rod came apart in my hands with a satisfying snap. “You got what you wanted, had your fun with the naive city girl, and now you’re ready to go back to your hermit life. Mission accomplished.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

I did, but that didn’t stop me from being angry and lashing out. This was not the fairy tale ended I wanted for my story. I clenched my hands to my sides. “I know. But I wish. I wish I hadn’t let myself fall—”

I cut myself off before I could finish that sentence. Before I could give him that much power over me.

“Finish the sentence, Ellie.” His voice was quiet, dangerous.

“No.” I shouldered my gear bag. “Doesn’t matter now.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter. Finish what you were going to say.” He caught my arm, his fingers gentle but firm. “Ellie, please. Just listen to me for one minute.”

I looked down at his hand on my arm, then back up to his face. His eyes were dark, conflicted, and for a moment I wavered. For a moment, I wanted to listen. Wanted to believe whatever explanation he was about to give me.

But I’d already given him everything. My body, my trust, my heart. I couldn’t give him the power to destroy me too.

“Let go,” I said quietly.

He did, immediately, his hand falling to his side. “At least stay until you catch a fish.”

“I caught it, kissed it, and let it go.” The metaphor hung in the air between us, and I saw the exact moment he understood what I was really saying.

His face went carefully blank.

“Look, Nate,” I said, proud of how steady my voice sounded. “I understand. Really. It was, um, nice, the time we had together.”

Nice. Like he was a pleasant dinner or a decent movie. Like he hadn’t turned my entire world upside down and shown me what it felt like to be truly alive.

I saw him flinch. Just a little, but I saw it.

“Nice,” he repeated. “That what it was?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not asking for anything. I get it. You’re not built for more.”

He stepped forward, jaw tight, like he was going to say something—do something—but I turned before he could.

I marched past him toward the trail, my head held high, my spine straight. I would not cry. I would not beg. I would not turn around and throw myself at his feet and tell him I loved him.

I was Miss Ellie, kindergarten teacher, ex-virgin, catcher of rainbow trout. I had survived twenty-nine years without Nate Colson. I could survive the rest of my life the same way.

Even if it felt like I was leaving half my heart in a Montana stream.

“Ellie.”

His voice followed me up the trail, rough with something that might have been desperation. I forced myself to keep walking, to put one foot in front of the other even though every instinct I had was screaming at me to turn around.

“Ellie, please.”

The second time he called my name, I faltered. Just for a step, just for a heartbeat. But I caught myself, straightened my shoulders, and kept walking.

Bold and brave, I reminded myself. Bold and brave meant knowing when to walk away.

Even when walking away felt like dying.