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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nate
She’d walked away.
Past me. Through me.
Like I was already part of the past.
I stood there on the riverbank after she’d disappeared up the trail, the sound of water rushing around me, knowing I was on the verge of possibly making the worst mistake of my life and I’d made a few.
If I let her go…
All I could think about was how she’d felt beneath me last night. Her laughter echoing off the lodge walls when I’d told her some stupid story about a client who’d tried to fish with a sandwich instead of bait. Her smile when she’d finally mastered that cast. Her damn sunburnt nose that first day, pink and adorable and so fucking city girl it had made my chest tight.
The way she’d whispered my name when I was buried deep inside her. Not once. Not twice. I’d taken her three times last night.
I was not a man to back away from a battle. Never had been, not in Afghanistan, not when the doctors said I might never walk right again, not when my ex had packed her bags and walked out of my life like I was nothing more than damaged goods.
Ellie hadn’t cried. She hadn’t begged or demanded explanations.
She’d just looked me in the eye, handed my heart back with a few simple words and walked away.
She’d gutted me.
I turned toward the water, staring at the spot where she’d stood and caught a fish. Without me.
She didn’t need me.
But I needed her.
Not just her body—though I’d never forget the feel of her wrapped around me, soft and warm and trusting—but everything. Her laugh. Her shy attempts at flirting. The way she made me want things I thought I was done wanting.
A future. A home. Someone to wake up next to, who didn’t run when things got hard.
Someone who looked at me and didn’t see the scars.
Just me.
And now I faced the biggest battle of my life, and I was standing here like an idiot, letting the best thing that had ever happened to me walk away because I was scared.
