I wanted to rage, burn the camp down, drag her out of here by her hair, and lock her somewhere only I could reach. Instead, I told myself to breathe, to save the Jackson bomb until I could regain my composure.
She needed a husband, a protector—not some broken, sobbing mess.
I didn’t trust myself not to say too much, not to grab her and demand answers she wasn’t ready to give. My chest was tight with all the things I wanted to say and all the things I knew I couldn’t.
But then she stepped beside me, and I felt her before she spoke, like gravity shifting, like the only part of the world I cared about had drifted back into my orbit.
“Max,” she said softly.
My heart fucking cracked.
She looked wrecked. Damaged in a way that made me want to hold her forever and lock the rest of the world outside.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes filling with something between guilt and fear. “For earlier. For everything. I didn’t mean to push you away.”
Relief hit me so fast I almost staggered back. I didn’t realize how much I’d needed to hear her say that until she did. It was like someone loosening a tourniquet too suddenly. There was pain first, then numbness, then the rush.
“What have you been doing?” I said, my voice rough. “You were gone for two hours and I?—”
She cut me off with a small shake of her head. “I’ve been thinking. I don’t think we should keep doing this. You and me.”
“What?” My voice was strangled.
She couldn’t meet my eyes. “It’s not fair to you. I’m dealing with too much. I’m dragging you into it, and I’m ruining your life.”
“You’re not ruining my life,” I snapped.
“If something happens to you because of me… I can’t live with that.”
The knot in my chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. I could not believe she was doing this right now, when I could practically feel something closing in on us from the tree line.
I wanted her in my truck, now, so I could take her away from whatever was about to swallow us whole.
“You don’t get to make that call for me,” I said. “We’re married. We do everything together. Listen, we aren’t doing this right now. Something is off here. I don’t feel safe, and we need to leave. Get your bag.”
Tears pooled at the rim of her lids. She stepped back, and for a second, I thought she was going to bolt again.
“I’m not letting you walk away,” I said, my voice softer. I grabbed her arm, steering her to the bedroom door, and she ripped her arm out of my grip.
“What?”
“I’m serious, Max. This summer… it was beautiful. But it needs to end before someone gets hurt.”
The harsh edges of heartbreak rippled through me, like bare tree branches scraping down a window in winter.
“Stop being so dramatic,” I said, grabbing her arm again. “Let’s go.”
Tears filled her eyes as she ground her feet into the floor. I wasn’t in the mood to be soft. I was shaking, rage simmering just beneath my skin, hot enough to burn through my restraint.
“You don’t get to throw me away because you’re scared,” I growled. “We’re fucking married. Married. This isn’t just a high school fling; we are legally bound to each other. Your business is my business. End of story.”
Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “I’m doing this because I love you. Because you’re my best friend. I can’t lose you.”
My whole body trembled. A pathetic sob ripped out of me before I could choke it down. Raw and humiliating. I was losing control. I needed to get her ass in the damn truck so we could leave this place before she was killed.
My fists were clenched at my sides. I didn’t even realize it until the tears burned down my cheeks.
“No,” I said, voice breaking. “I’m not accepting this. Stop it. We’re fucking leaving right now.”
