She nods and closes the tin carefully.
She stares into the fire for a moment and I read her easily. Sad. Lonely. Trying to pretend she is fine.
I should keep my mouth shut.
“What are you doing up here alone?” I ask instead.
She looks down. “I rented a cabin.”
“You did not,” I say.
“I know that now.” She laughs a little. It cracks. “I guess I got scammed.”
Her shoulders sag. Her chin wobbles. She tries to hide it, but I see everything.
Someone hurt her.
Yeah. I feel that before I think it.
A sharp, unwelcome punch under the ribs.
Someone walked away and didn’t look back.
Some man, probably. Left her with that cracked voice and trembling mouth.
My jaw grinds before I can stop it.
I do not get jealous. I do not get protective. Not over strangers.
But the thought of anyone making her look this small and lost puts a burn in my chest I haven’t felt in years. It crawls up my spine, hot and stupid and territorial.
She stares at the fire like she’s trying to make sense of the world again.
“I do not understand why someone would do that,” she murmurs. “Pretend to rent a cabin.”
I breathe once. Slow. Controlled. Because if I don’t, something dangerous might slip out.
“People do all kinds of crap for money.”
She nods, but she is somewhere else. Somewhere sad.
“My parents left for a vacation,” she says suddenly. “And did not tell me. I found out through social media.”
For a second I just stare at her.
Then something in my chest loosens in a way it shouldn’t.
Not a man.
Not some bastard who broke her heart.
Parents.
Thoughtless. Selfish. Careless.
At least not a man.
Relief hits me fast and hard, sharp as cold air in my lungs.
