"Ruby, why would you do that? Were you in trouble? Did you need—"
"Stop!" The word came out almost as a sob. "Just stop trying to fix me or save me or whatever you think you're doing. You don't know what you're offering. You don't know who I—"
She cut herself off again, hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror at what she'd almost revealed.
"Who you what?" I asked quietly. "Who are you, Ruby?"
She shook her head violently, tears finally spilling over. Then she turned and ran.
Out of the kitchen, down the hallway, footsteps echoing through the empty lobby.
I stood there frozen for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. I'd offered her her dream job—I'd seen how badly she'd wanted it in that moment when her whole face had transformed, when she'd touched that copper like it was precious. And she'd panicked and fled like I'd threatened her life instead of offering her a future.
Why? What the hell was I missing?
I locked the kitchen behind me and followed her out into the snow.
FULL DARK HAD FALLEN. I found her on the hot tub deck behind my cabin, standing in her coat with snow collecting in her hair. Crying.
The sight hit me like a punch to the sternum. She looked small and lost and genuinely shattered.
"Ruby." I approached slowly, my boots crunching on fresh snow. "Talk to me."
"Leave me alone." Her voice was raw, wrecked.
"No." I stepped closer. "Not until you tell me what's really going on. Why you're running."
She whirled on me, tears streaming down her face. "You! I'm scared of you!"
"I would never hurt you—"
"That's not what I mean!" She was shouting now, her words breaking apart. "I'm scared because I don't want to want you! I don't want to feel this! I hate you for making me feel this!"
The words hit like physical blows. But underneath the anger, I heard something else—fear, confusion, and something that sounded almost like grief.
"Ruby—"
"Don't." She held up both hands, backing away from me. Snow crunched under her boots. "Just don't. I can't do this. I can't be here. Tomorrow at the festival finale, we'll show up together like Evelyn expects, and then this is over. Done."
"That's it? That's your solution? Run away and pretend this never happened?"
"What else am I supposed to do?" Her voice cracked completely. "You're offering me everything I want and I can't take it. I can't be your partner. I can't work for you. I can't—" Her breath hitched. "I can't keep pretending this is something it's not."
"What is it then?" I demanded. "What is this to you? Because it sure as hell isn't nothing, no matter how many times you try to convince yourself otherwise."
She wrapped her arms tight around herself, trembling—from cold or emotion, I couldn't tell anymore.
"I'm going inside," she said, her tone hollow and defeated. "Guest room. We'll get through tomorrow and then we're done."
She walked past me toward the cabin, and everything in me wanted to reach for her. To pull her back. To physically stop her from running away from something that could be extraordinary if she'd just let it.
But I didn't.
Because forcing her wouldn't work. Because she had to choose this—choose me—on her own terms.
I stood in the falling snow, watching her disappear into the cabin. Saw the guest room light click on a minute later. Saw her shadow move past the window.
Tomorrow was Sunday. The festival finale. We'd have to stand together in front of the whole town and pretend this weekend had been a success story instead of whatever this was.
