CHAPTER SEVEN
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 withmechanical 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.
