I don’t push right away.
The fire crackles behind us. Someone laughs too loudly. Music drifts through the air, low and steady.
The kind of night people remember. The kind he’s standing outside of.
“You know,” I say after a moment, “you’re allowed to enjoy things.”
“That so?”
“Pretty sure.”
He looks at me then. Really looks. “And you’d know?”
“Better than you think.”
That earns me a longer pause. Curiosity lodges in his rugged features and something else. Like he hasn’t made up his mind about something.
“Alright,” he says finally. “Tell me.”
I don’t expect that, choking on my next swallow. “Tell you what?”
“What you’re running from.”
The question lands clean. No edge or judgment to it. Just direct… like everything about this man.
I let out a small breath, looking back toward the fire. “I’m not running,” I say.
“Everyone’s running from something.”
“You included?”
His jaw tightens just slightly. “That’s not the question.”
I turn back to him. “No,” I say. “It’s just the one you don’t want to answer.”
Silence settles again. But this time, it’s different. Closer. The space between us feels smaller without either of us moving.
“I came here because I needed a reset,” I say after a moment. “Everything in my life started feeling… off. Like I was showing up for things I didn’t even care about anymore.”
He watches me without interrupting.
“Engagement to a man who proved a total stranger. Life I never asked for. Job that took from the world instead of helping it. I looked in the mirror one day and no longer recognized the woman staring back, so I left,” I say. “Figured I’d go somewhere real for a while. Somewhere I could actually feel something again.”
“And you found that here?”
“I think so.”
His gaze holds mine.
“Or maybe,” I add quietly, “I’m still figuring it out.”
Something shifts in his expression. Softens almost imperceptibly, as if he’s less closed-off now.
“Places don’t fix that,” he says.
“No,” I agree. “People don’t either.”
His Adam’s apple works, but he stares past me, mouth never moving. “Then what does?”
