"He's the reason you're out here, isn't he?" I slide the skillet into the oven. "In the mountains, alone."
Her eyes widen slightly at my perception. "That obvious, huh?"
I shrug. "People don't wander into dangerous wilderness unless they're running from something or looking for something."
"A bit of both, I guess." She leans against the counter, weight off her bad ankle. "Wanted to prove I could do something on my own. Be independent. After he..." She trails off, shakes her head. "It doesn't matter."
But it does. I want to know what this man did to her, what put that shadow in her eyes. Want to find him and explain with my fists why that was a mistake.
The violent impulse startles me. I don't care about other people's problems. Don't get involved. That's the whole point of living up here.
"He cheated," she says quietly, reading something in my silence. "After two years together. With my friend. Classic story."
"He's an idiot." The words come out harder than intended.
Her smile is small but genuine. "That's what my mom said. Right before she signed me up for that wilderness retreat I was supposed to be on before I got lost."
"Some retreat. They didn't even notice you were missing?"
"It doesn't start until next week. I came up early to do some solo hiking, get in the right headspace." She winces. "Clearly that was a spectacular plan."
I snort. "Could've been worse. Could've ended up at one of those rich people camps where they make you chant and hug trees."
Her laugh fills the kitchen, bright and unexpected. "Oh God, is that what you think city people do in the woods?"
"Am I wrong?"
"Well, there was a sound bath on the itinerary. And something about forest bathing, which I'm pretty sure doesn't involve actual bathing."
"Told you." I check the oven, hiding my own amusement. "Rich people shit."
"Hey, I'll have you know I was really looking forward to harmonizing my chakras," she teases.
"Your chakras seem plenty harmonized to me."
That earns me another laugh, and something inside me shifts. Loosens. It's been so long since I've made someone laugh. Even longer since I've wanted to.
Dinner is simple but good. She compliments the fish honestly, not with the fake enthusiasm city folks usually show when eating "rustic" food. After we eat, she insists on washing the dishes, claiming she needs to earn her keep.
"You don't owe me anything," I tell her, but she waves me off.
"Let me do this. Please."
So I let her, watching from across the room as she stands at my sink, humming softly to herself. She looks right there, like a piece of a puzzle I didn't know was missing.
Dangerous thoughts.
When she finishes, she makes her way to the couch, where Ruby has claimed the prime spot in front of the fire. My traitor dog actually moves over to make room for her. Three days, and Ruby's already chosen sides.
"Good girl," Lila murmurs, settling beside my dog. She stretches her injured leg out on the coffee table, wincing slightly.
"Hurting?" I ask, moving to check her ankle without thinking.
"Just stiff. I'll be fine."
I kneel anyway, carefully unwrapping the bandage. The swelling has improved dramatically, but there's still bruising along the outside of her ankle.
"Better," I assess. "Still needs elevation and rest."
