Page 90 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

“Lennon left,” she said as soon as she picks up. My best friend knows me too well.

“I fucked up.”

“You did.”

“He told me he loved me today.”

“And you hit panic mode?”

“Self-destruction mode is more apt.”

I debate honking at the slow driver, but there’s no point rushing to Lennon’s. He was clearly in a hurry to get away from his family and me. He’ll be gone before I get there.

I dash at the tears on my face. “I should never have brushed him off like that, especially with everything he was going through. I was just so worried about the man who went missing, and my head was having a stupid fight with my heart over the fact that my boyfriend loves me.” Or, more accurately, the fact that I love him and couldn’t get the words out. “I am such a fucking mess. That whole meeting with his family, I was standing there trying to build the nerve to tell him how I felt, when I should’ve been focused on him. Then that call came, and I lost it. I think I used it as an excuse to run away.”

“You’re human, Mags. None of us is perfect. I kept secrets from E for so long that it hurt us both. Emotional fears are often more powerful than tangible ones.”

And they do more damage. “I think I’ve lost him,” I say, fighting another rising sob.

“Lennon was upset,” Delilah says gently. “He was frustrated with you and shaken by his father’s latest bomb drop. But he hasn’t fallen out of love with you in the span of an hour. A week-long hike won’t make a dent either. E says he’s never seen Lennon as happy as he’s been with you.”

Another match lights under my incinerated heart. “He keeps telling me I need to talk to my parents about my issues, and I’m starting to think he’s right. He deserves a woman who’s all in, someone who loves him with her whole heart. I want to be that woman,” I say more quietly.

“I think that sounds like a really smart idea.”

I sniffle. “So do I.”

To finally tell my parents I lie to them about work to impress them, like I’m still that little kid who heard them say they regretted my adoption. Explain that I can’t hold a real relationship, scared I’ll be hurt again. Fear of loss. Being alone, discarded. So freaking textbook it’s embarrassing. Maybe finally facing the issues head on will help me handle the intensity of what Lennon makes me feel, because that man makes me feel everything.

“I’m going to his house,” I tell Delilah, turning my Jeep toward the only place I want to be. “Just in case he hasn’t left yet. But I’ll call my mom too. Talk through everything with her and my dad.”

“I’m here if you need me. Call me day or night.”

“Love you,” I say and hang up.

I’m not sure why being close with Delilah doesn’t petrify me the way being close with Lennon does. Romantic love sinks deeper somehow. Grows your heart in a way that leaves it vulnerable if that portion atrophies. But after Lennon’s text, it’s clear there’s no protecting myself with him. This heart of mine is so full of him I can barely breathe.

I won’t shy away from telling him I love him again. The reality of losing him is a heck of a lot scarier than opening myself up to potential pain down the road. Which means I need to do better than a simple apology. I have to show Lennon how I feel with more than words, and I have an idea that just might work. A surprise for when he gets back.

As long as he hasn’t decided I’m not worth the effort by then.

chapter thirty-two

Day one hiking, it pours. I am a drowned rat. I am a sad sack of a man, who is cold and shivery and bitter. Mother Nature is doing nothing but pissing on my head. A smart man might have turned around or hunkered down in his tent for a day or two. Ridden out the storm. But this hiking trip isn’t about pretty scenery and the brightness of a sunny December day. This trip is a pilgrimage. My journey of reckoning and self-understanding, where I face my demons and come out the other side stronger. Or I’ll slide down one of these muddy slopes and drown in the dead leaves and muck at my feet. Whichever comes first.

Day two hiking, it snows. I was smart enough to pack a hat and gloves, and I have a good supply of dehydrated meals, but in my rush to get away from it all, I forgot my long underwear. There’s a chance my kneecaps will fall off. And my nuts.

I pull my pack higher and push on, head down, one foot in front of the other. No time to focus on the numbness in my lower limbs or the pain in my heart. That’s the thing about facing off against nature. Survival trumps my mental stress. Moving, eating, drinking water—the basics of living—take over. I’m a body in motion, battling the elements, reminding myself that I am strong and resilient. A man who can endure, like I did eleven years ago, when my father tore me and my family from the familiarity of our lives.

Except being cold and wet sucks.

I pass an intersecting trail and trudge up a steep incline, focusing on keeping my footing secure. At the top, I take a much-needed break and rummage for my water.

The crunch of dead leaves has me stiffening.

Since moving to Windfall, I’ve spotted coyotes and foxes on my hikes and plenty of smaller rodents. While I haven’t seen cougars or black bears, there have been enough paw prints and droppings to know they’re around. The last thing I want to encounter out here alone is a cougar or a bear.

Another crunch sounds. My heart shoots into my throat.