The massage therapist is a gentle woman named Maya who somehow knows where I hold tension, which is everywhere.
"You're wound tight," she observes as she works a knot in my shoulder.
"I've been told."
"What are you so afraid of?"
The question catches me off-guard. "Losing control."
"And what happens if you lose control?"
"I fall apart. Make mistakes. Hurt people. I become... less."
"Or," Maya soothes, "you become more. More human. Alive. Yourself."
After the massage, I wander the resort in a daze. My body is relaxed for the first time in years, but my mind is racing.
More human. More alive. More myself.
Is that what I felt in the cabin? Not less, but more?
I end up at the window overlooking the snowmobile trails, watching Brennan lead an afternoon tour. Even from here I can see his competence, his care for his guests, and the way he navigates terrain with practiced ease.
He's not irresponsible or lazy or any of the things I first thought. He's someone who learned the hard way that intensity without boundaries destroys you. So, he built a life around balance.
Maybe I could learn that too.
Maybe we could learn it together.
The thought is terrifying. And exhilarating.
And for once I want to chase a feeling and not practicality.
I watch and wait for Brennan’s return, and after he’s done and heading toward the parking lot, I run toward him. “Brennan!”
He stops at his truck and turns toward me.
The night is cold and clear, with brilliant stars overhead. We stand in the parking lot, breath fogging, and I search for words.
"I'm sorry," I say.
"For what?"
"For running and building walls. Making what we had feel cheap by intellectualizing it."
He's quiet for a long moment. "You weren't wrong, though. We’re two different people, in two different places in life. It was cabin fever. Storm brain. We don’t know each other."
"Do you believe that?"
He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. "I don't know what I believe anymore."
I step closer, relieved he doesn't move away. "I believe you saw me. Really saw me. Not the lawyer, or the Ice Queen, or the uptight city girl. You saw Avery. Scared, controlled, desperate to feel something real."
"Avery—"
"And I saw you too. Not the easygoing guide who doesn't care about anything. I saw Brennan. Wounded, protective, terrified of caring too much."
His jaw tightens. "What's your point?"
