Page 11

It’s been five days since I woke up alone. No Calder. No note. No text, voicemail, or anything to explain why he thought leaving without a word was better than telling me anything.

I’ve cried, questioned what I did wrong. Did I ask too many questions after? Was I too insecure about my performance? Did I push him too hard? Then, I felt nothing. An emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole—until I saw the tree.

If it can be consumed by flames and still show signs of new growth, if it can stand taller, stronger, with a power I missed the first time I saw it... then, what? It’s just a tree.

Why did I think it would hold some answer, some sign that there is hope for me…for us?

I didn’t expect my first time to be magic, or fireworks, or soul-consuming ecstasy. But it was. Calder made it that way. And now that it’s gone, the silence he’s left behind is a sharper sting than anything the fire could have given me.

But I can’t believe that our night together didn’t mean anything to him. His words, his body, his eyes—they all told me a different story. But maybe I was wrong. I must have been, because if I wasn’t, we’d be together now.

Shaking my head, I look at my Airbnb. I’m not renewing it. I’m gone in two days. For the first time since I got here, a part of me is relieved. I’m tired of trying to figure out what’s going on with Calder. I’m tired of pushing so hard and getting a few steps forward just to be dragged back.

Optimism has its limits.

My limit of silence and patience and hoping that Calder will do the right thing is breeched on the beginning of day six of his silence.

I have to be out of the Airbnb tomorrow and I won’t do it by cowering and sending a letter next year.

This is the end of it. One way or another.

I will not run away as he did, I will stand for my choices, even if it will not change anything.

So I take a breath and casually ask where I can find Calder when I spot another ranger in town. I lie about having something of his I need to return, making the guy chuckle.

“He’s at the station today,” I’m told.

After a quick thank you, I head to the station and find Calder working outside. When he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, I freeze a few feet away, every step feeling heavier. I cross my arms, trying to shield myself from the pain threatening to crack me wide open.

“Calder,” I say, my voice steady but the weight of everything lurking underneath.

He pauses, then slowly looks up at me, his expression hard, every muscle tight like he’s bracing for something.

Even though he’s right in front of me, I feel a thousand miles away—alone, abandoned, unwanted.

The way his eyes take me in, like he’s studying me from a distance, only deepens the ache inside.

It’s as if the sight of me hurts him too, and all it does is echo the pain I’ve been trying to bury for the past week.

“You left,” I say, my voice breaking on the words. “You left me after the best night I’ve ever had. It was perfect, and you ruined it.”

The words tumble out, raw and unfiltered. “So if I did something wrong, tell me. Actually talk to me, Calder! It’s the bare minimum you owe me!”

He opens his mouth, but then just takes off his gloves, his movements slow, deliberate. He walks toward me, and the weight in my chest grows heavier.

I know what’s coming. He’s going to lie. I can see it in his eyes—how closed off he is, how he’s already building his walls back up.

I shake my head before he can get a word out.

“I only want the truth. You say so little, and out of what you do say, the meaning is buried between the lines. I’ve written you letters.

I’ve poured myself into everything, tried to be open, tried to share the parts of me I thought you could handle. And you... you leave.”

“It’s for the best,” he mutters, like it’s some kind of excuse.

“For who?” My arms drop to my hips, and I suck in a slow breath, trying to steady myself. “Are you happy? Because I’m obviously not happy right now.”

His lips twitch down, and he rubs the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze.

“I’m not meant for relationships. I didn’t respond to any of your letters because it didn’t feel right.

You were caught up in someone you barely knew.

You filled in all the blanks, Nora. You didn’t know me, and you still don’t. We’re strangers.”

“Then why the hell did you keep helping me?” I take a step closer, my voice rising with frustration.

“Why did you care about my comfort? Why did you show up at my cabin, check on me, make sure I was okay? Strangers don’t do that.

And I’m willing to bet you don’t do that either, not even on your best day. ”

We look at one another for a long while. Then his throat works. “I like you. I like being around you. I like your letters. I liked sleeping in your bed with you wrapped around me. I like it all and I hate that I do. Because you’re going to wake up and see I’m not the hero you want.”

“Who said I-”

“All of your letters, Nora,” he says, still utterly calm.

“You want a man who doesn’t exist. One who will fix everything, who’s stable and good for other people.

That’s not me. I’m fourteen years older than you living as a park ranger in a small town and I don’t want to leave.

I’d rather be content than happy. I’d rather have a routine than something to lose because I will always lose. ”

“You don’t know that,” I hiss.

“I do. I’ve been told it enough. I’m interesting at the start, but I’m not deep. I’m exactly what you see. That’s it. I’m not ambitious. I’m not put together. I’m not ... strong beyond my muscles. I am exactly what I’ve shown you.”

“Do you get it?” He asks.

“Yeah. I do.” I say softly. “You won’t let yourself love anyone or let anyone in, because you’re terrified of changing, which is worse than being afraid of being hurt.

You could get better at being with people.

You could adjust yourself any time. You’re choosing not to, because you’d rather do what’s easy in the moment. ”

“Then you don’t understand. What I’m doing is best for both of us. I’m not wasting your time. I’m minimizing things. And in the future-”

My eyes spill over. I hate being an angry crier, but I can’t help it now.

“You don’t know the future! You don’t! You’re using it as an excuse, and you’re too blind to see that.

” I wipe my eyes, but they keep falling as he steps forward, reaching for me.

I laugh bitterly. “Here you are, trying to protect me from crying, willing to do that, but not willing to be honest with yourself. You’re the problem here, Calder. The only problem.”

“I... I’m partly the problem, I know,” he says, his voice hesitant. “I am. But this... this is for the best. It wouldn’t work. We wouldn’t work.”

“Mmhmm.” I push his hands away, forcing a smile that feels like a mask. “Nothing I say will matter, will it? You’re convinced you know what’s best for me, for us. You’re older, wiser... whatever.”

“Don’t do that, Nora. Please.” His voice breaks a little, but he steps back.

“You’ll end up alone,” I say flatly, feeling the weight of every word.

“If that’s what you want, then fine. But if it’s not, I hope you eventually hear what I’m saying.

I care about you. You don’t have to deserve it.

I would’ve forgiven you, even if you messed up in the relationship.

But right now? You’re ruining it. You’re hurting me, and you’re hurting yourself.

You only deserve constant pain if you refuse to change.

If you stay this way, it’s on you. You’re the one making this choice. ”

He whispers my name, his voice raw. “Nora... don’t leave like this. Can you just see what I’m trying to do?”

“I see what you think you’re trying to do,” I reply, my voice steady, but the ache is deep.

“But you don’t see what you are doing. And I won’t keep writing.

Don’t worry about that,” I say, turning to walk toward my car.

“I truly wish you the best. I hope you let someone see the real you. But after tomorrow, you won’t have to worry about seeing me again. ”

When I get in the car, the tears come harder, but I shake my head, wipe my eyes, and force myself to drive away.

If I stay, he’ll try to explain again, and I can’t let that happen.

I don’t know if he’s trying to convince me that he’s unlovable, or if he’s trying to convince himself .

I don’t know if he’s scared or if he’s just hiding behind a lie. It doesn’t matter.

At some point, a person has to want to fix themselves. If Calder doesn’t, then he’s right. I need to leave. I need to cut ties and move on. But I’m a stickler for goodbyes. So I’ll leave him one final note—a goodbye, if he cares. And that will be the end.

Not with yelling. Not with some dramatic blowout. But with the control I should’ve had from the start... if I can find it.

When I get home, I let it all go. I sob into the pillows I used to scream into, letting the tears pour out until there’s nothing left.

And as the tears slow, I realize: I didn't choose this. He did. He walked away. And now, somehow, it's me who has to figure out how to make my heart follow his mind.