The last time I attempted hiking was with Steve, and that experience left me with several anxiety complexes. I can’t let Patrick see that, can’t be the pathetic one who needs constant reassurance.
I brace for irritation. The impatient “Fine”, and a man who vanishes up the path. That’s what Steve would’ve done.
“I’m not abandoning you on a mountain.” His tone makes the idea sound absurd. “You already did the hard part. You made it up here. That’s enough.”
“There are loads of other people around. I won’t exactly be stranded.”
“I don’t care.” He crosses his arms, looking genuinely annoyed at the suggestion. “I brought you up here. I’m staying with you. What kind of bastard do you think I am?”
Something catches in my throat. His refusal to leave—that small, stubborn courtesy—lands harder than I expected.
“You say that now, but—” I mutter then falter. Old wounds creak open. “Not everyone thinks like that.”
One of his brows lifts.
I shrug, hugging my camera strap. “My ex fell out with me when we climbed Snowdon and I sprained my ankle. He hated that we had to cut it short. I guess I just… associate hiking with letting people down.”
He stares at me. “He punished you for getting injured?”
“Steve was big on silent treatments.” I try for a casual shrug, but it comes out wobbly. “It was his thing.”
Patrick’s frown hardens. “How long were you with this prick?”
I hadn’t expected the visceral reaction from him. I’m not sure I should have mentioned it now. “Two years.”
“Two years?” His jaw tightens. “That’s two years too long.”
“It wasn’t all bad. At the start he was charming, funny, everyone loved him. Then we moved in together and… well.” I look up at the trail again, anywhere but his face. “It wasn’t… so good.”
I shrug, not wanting to say too much.
He’s quiet for a beat. Then his voice drops. “If I ever treated a woman like that, I couldn’t look my nan—god rest her soul—or my mum in the eye again. Makes me want to track this Steve down and give him a lecture on basic decency.”
The sharpness in his tone makes me flinch. I rush to smooth it over, words tumbling out. “It’s fine. It was years ago.”
His head jerks toward me, brow furrowed. He takes a slow breath, broad chest rising and falling like he’s trying to rein something in. “Georgie, you just told me your boyfriend of two years stopped speaking to you because you sprained your ankle on a mountain. Instead of making sure you weren’t in pain.” He shifts his weight, boots scraping rock. “No man should ever treat you like that.”
The heat rushes up my neck, prickling my cheeks. Men have told me I’m cute. Funny. Easy to be around. No one has ever said I deserve better with that much conviction backing the words.
I force a shrug, trying to make it sound like an old story. “Yeah, well. Lesson learned.”
His jaw goes hard, mouth flattening into a grim line. “A bastard like that doesn’t deserve a second chance. If a man treats you like that, it’s reason enough to be done. Should’ve kicked him off the mountain.”
I swallow hard. I can’t tell him the truth—that it wasn’t enough for me, not then. That I stayed through a dozen more silent treatments.
I don’t want him to think of me as a weak idiot who couldn’t see what was right in front of her.
“I know it wasn’t healthy. I mean, I know there are decent men out there. Obviously.”
“Course there are. You’re young. You’ll meet someone who’ll treat you right.”
The words should land as comfort, but they sting. Because they’re casual. Because he sayssomeonelike it couldn’t possibly be him.
I force a bright smile. “I guess I should try to have fun while I’m here. That’s what Riri wanted me to do. Live a little. Date loads.”
Something flashes across his face. Gone before I can pin it down. He drags a hand through his hair. “Riri was a smart woman.”
I’m the little girl who cried wolf, daring him to say he doesn’t want me seeing other men, only to be met with calm agreement.
