I listen to him playfully interact with the other women and kick myself for reading too much into his gift. He could’ve given it to one of the other women, but why? I was with him when he bid on it, so the most logical person to gift it to would be me.
I find myself doing this a lot when it comes to Billy. I’m constantly justifying his behavior that makes me feel uneasy. I once heard someone say that justifying is just a lying.
Lying to myself.
The pilot addresses us from the front of the jet. “We’ll be taking off in ten minutes.”
New life. I swallow the lump in my throat. Here I come.
Alexander
When I was a kid, a therapist used exposure therapy to help me deal with my social anxiety. I didn’t have social anxiety as much as I was incapable of interacting appropriately with others. Her solution was to enroll me into public school, thinking that, in time, I’d adapt and learn to peacefully co-exist alongside my peers.
I was expelled one day later for sending two kids to the hospital for taking my lunch. I never walked the halls of a school again.
Back at the cabin for five days now, and I feel the same itchy resistance to my exposure. Only this exposure involves drowning myself in memories of her. There isn’t a single place inside or outside the small cabin that doesn’t remind me of Jordan. Her smile, the sound of her voice, her grunts and groans when she’d attempt to move through her pain. The lake, the books, the damn woodstove, she clings to every surface like a ghost. The first couple of days, I couldn’t handle the reminders and spent sunup to sundown hunting just to stay away. Then I stumbled upon the ravine where I found her, and I realized getting away from her memory is hopeless because the place she lives is inside my head. The only way to escape her is death, and I fear that even then, I’ll take her with me.
Exposure therapy is my only option. I forced myself to stay in the cabin, to sit on the pelts she slept on for weeks, to read the books she read, and to mindlessly stare at the ridiculous lures she made. I’m waiting for the desensitization to kick in.
I spin the piece of shit promise ring her ex gave her around the tip of my finger. I didn’t know she’d left it here, but it was the first thing I saw when I walked in. I sit alone like a talisman, intent on making every minute I spend without her a living hell.
I tell myself that letting her go was the right thing to do. The only selfless thing I’ve ever done. I thought acts of kindness were supposed to make the giver feel good, but all I feel is broken. As if I cut out some vital organ that will leave me slowly bleeding out until I die.
She asked me if I could love her, and I told her the truth.
She deserves to have a man capable of the kind of love she needs.
He better hope I never meet him because I’ll break both his legs so he can't chase us when I steal her back.
No!
I have to overcome these ridiculous delusions. She’s safer without me. I could hurt her. But even as the words filter through my mind, my soul rejects them wholeheartedly.
My entire psyche is a total mindfuck.
I continue to spin the ring, and the little stone catches the light through the window. With every rotation, it winks at me. Over. Again. Another. Wink. Wink—the sound of a helicopter in the distance snags my attention. Helicopters aren’t uncommon on clear, albeit cold, days like today, so I listen closely to see if it flies over.
I told Hayes I needed at least a week. He wouldn’t come early unless absolutely necessary.
The chopper sound grows louder, and I hear it settle nearby. I drop my head into my hands and rub the new beard growth on my face. I’m not ready to leave here. And when I go back, I’ll have to face my empty penthouse, where the memories of Jordan are fresh. Where her scent will still linger on my sheets.
The sound of the chopper grows louder before I hear it get distant, as if it landed for only a minute just to take off again.
What the hell?
I head out of the cabin to see a bright yellow chopper disappearing into the distance.
There’s movement in my peripheral vision. A person emerges from the tree line. I squint and suck in a breath.
She’s here. Or I’m much sicker in the head than I thought.
“Hey, Grizzly,” she says as she closes the distance between us. She’s dressed for cold weather, wearing a knit hat with a big fluffy ball on the tip. Her eyebrows pinch together. “Did you forget me already?”
I blink and feel myself stumble forward. “Jordan?”
Her lips quirk up on the ends. “You’re not hallucinating.”
“What are you doing here?”
“You saved my life twice. I came to return the favor.”
“My life…” I shake my head in the hopes that the movement will help sort my thoughts. “I’m not in any trouble.”
“Agree to disagree.” Her gaze lingers on my lips, and I want to kiss her, but I know I can’t. I let her go. I sent her away.
She doesn’t belong to me.
I internally growl and gnash my teeth at my own thoughts.
“Who brought you here?” Because I need to know who to kill—or thank, depending on what happens next.
She throws a thumb over her shoulder. “Oh, that? Tour company. I wasn’t even sure you’d be here, but I saw the chimney smoke from the air. You should know Murphy is crazy loyal and wouldn’t give up your location or agree to bring me to you.”
I will kill him for that. Wait, what? No.
“But I figured a tour company would be familiar with the area. I explained as best I could where your cabin is, and they knew where to find you. It took a little bribing and a very expensive diamond tennis bracelet.” She holds her arms out. “Tah-dah. Here I am.”
“You shouldn’t be here—”
“Can we stop with that? We both know I’m exactly where I belong.”
I’m speechless because she somehow managed to take the words straight from my soul and leave me with none.
She rubs her upper arms. “It’s getting cold. Can we go inside?”
I nod and step aside.
She shrugs off her coat and hangs it on a hook by the door as casually as if she were walking into her own home. “I didn’t know how I’d feel coming back to this place.”
I watch her closely as she runs a hand along the table, gazes up to the sleeping loft, then moves to stand in front of the woodstove.
She looks over at me. “Things feel different here, don’t they?”
She’s right. They do.
“Life in the city feels so big, but out here, it’s like… I’m invited to see the details.”
I never would’ve thought to put it that way, but she’s right. Work, comforts, obligations… they all cloud my vision, and it’s easy to forget what’s truly important. Peace and clarity lie in simplicity.
“Why are you really here, Jordan?”
She pulls her knit hat from her head and balls it in her hands at her waist, and her gray eyes sparkle in the firelight. “I was on a plane to Arizona when it hit me. Taking a risk feels wrong, but that doesn’t mean it is…”
I’m still recovering from the blow that she was bound for the opposite side of the country. “What?”
She chews on her lip, and I unsuccessfully try not to stare. “The greatest risks can lead to the greatest reward. What I’m saying is, I don’t need you to love me.” She continues to twist her fingers into her hat. “I don’t think I’d even recognize it if you did. I am emotionally blind, searching helplessly for that connection called love, but I wouldn’t know it if I found it because it’s never been modeled for me. What do we know of love? Who showed us what it’s supposed to look like? Our parents? Our exes?”