Anger sparks. "I'm not hiding."
"Then what do you call disappearing to some backwoods town no one's ever heard of?" He steps closer, lowering his voicelike we're sharing a secret. "I get it. The project started to fall apart. We hit a bump in the road. You needed a break. But you've had your break. Now it's time to come back to reality."
"This is reality."
"This?" He laughs, actually laughs, and the sound grates. "Maren, look around. This place is weird. The people here are weird. I passed some guy in town who looked at me like I was trespassing on private property just for asking directions. Very unfriendly vibe."
That guy was probably Sawyer. Jonah's brother doesn't trust outsiders, especially not now.
"They're not weird. They're careful. There's a difference."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." He shakes his head. "The point is, you don't belong here. You belong out there, making a difference, telling stories that matter. Not playing house in the woods with?—"
"With who?" My voice comes out sharp. "Say it."
"I don't know. Whoever you've been spending time with." He waves a dismissive hand. "I saw some guy earlier. Tall, looks like he forgot how to shave. Very lumberjack. Very... local. Please tell me you're not wasting your time on?—"
"Careful." The word comes out low, dangerous. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Derek blinks. "Wow. Okay. Defensive much?"
"His name is Jonah. And he's not a waste of anything."
"Jonah." Derek draws out the name like it's proof of something. "Very rustic. Very Paul Bunyan. I'm sure he's very nice, Maren, but come on. You're seriously going to throw away your career for some backwoods romance?"
Every word makes my jaw tighten. A month ago, maybe even a week ago, some of this might have landed. The doubt. The dismissiveness. The implication that I'm making a mistake.
Now it just pisses me off.
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" He crosses his arms. "I've known you for three years. You're running. Just like you wanted to run from that last documentary when funding got tight. From San Francisco. From that teaching gig because one student complained."
"That's not fair."
"You're doing it again." He waves toward the compound. "Hiding in the woods. Convincing yourself this is real." His voice drops. "What happens when Lumber-Jonah figures out you're not who he thinks? When this gets hard?"
The accusation lands. Because there's truth in it. I have run before. Left situations before they could leave me. Protected myself by never staying long enough to be hurt.
"Then I deal with it."
"Like you dealt with everything else?" He shakes his head. "I'm trying to help you here. You're making a huge mistake. This place, these people, this guy—none of it is real. It's just another place to hide until you get scared and run again."
My hands curl into fists. "You don't know anything about Jonah. Or this place. Or me, apparently."
"I know you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life." He pulls out his phone again. "Come back with me. Finish the documentary. Get your career back on track. Then if you still want to play hermit in the woods, fine. But at least finish what you started."
"I did finish what I started." The words come out certain, solid. "I found something I've been looking for my whole life without knowing it. I found a place where I fit. People who want me here. Someone who sees me as I actually am instead of who they need me to be."
Derek's expression changes. Surprise, maybe. Or calculation. "This really isn't you. What happened to the woman who wanted to document the world?"
"I found something worth staying for."
"Or something worth hiding behind." He pockets his phone, shaking his head. "I came all this way to give you a chance, Maren. Don't waste it."
"I'm not."
"Then prove it. Come back. Finish the work. Show everyone you're not just running away again."
