He nods once, jaw working, then turns and walks back down the trail.
And I’m left standing on this little island, heart pounding, eyes stinging, not sure whether to scream, sob, or dive into the lake and swim to the other side.
Because the truth is, I’m falling for him.
And it terrifies me more than anything ever has.
The walk back is silent.
Daphne and Margot keep chatting like nothing happened, but I know Hunter can feel it—this tense little gap between us like a fault line waiting to crack wide open.
When we get back to the house, I head straight inside.
“Everything okay, hon?” Margot asks, a little frown in her voice.
“I think I just need to lie down,” I murmur. “A little too much sun, maybe.”
Hunter’s standing behind her, silent, eyes locked on me.
I don’t look back.
Upstairs, I close the door to the guest room and press my back to it. My breath comes too fast, like my ribs can’t quite catch the rhythm.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Keith again.
Keith: Still nothing? Just radio silence now? Okay, got it. Hope it was worth it.
I sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at the message, and suddenly, I’m not angry. I’m just… tired. Tired of running from the girl I used to be. Tired of pretending I’m not falling for someone I swore I wouldn’t.
And before I can talk myself out of it, I Google the next bus out of here.
There’s one that leaves from the nearby town in an hour.
I book a ticket.
Ten minutes later, I’m stuffing my things into my bag, moving on autopilot.
I leave a short note for Margot on the kitchen counter:
“Thank you for the hospitality. I just need to clear my head for a bit. Tell Daphne I’ll text her. – Faith”
I step out the back door and down the gravel driveway.
And I don’t look back.
* * *
The bus is half-empty,save for a few locals and a couple kids with headphones in. I sit near the back, press my forehead against the glass, and try not to cry.
Try—and fail.
I’m not sure what I expected. A grand gesture? For Hunter to chase me down the driveway and beg me to stay?
That’s not how real life works.
And I’m starting to think maybe I’m not cut out for love at all.
Who am I to think I deserve something like this? The lake house. The butterflies. The sex so good it cracks open my chest.
