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“That’s not what I said at all!” Jason objected as he leapt out of bed, stark naked, and reached for his clothes. But by the time he had pulled them on, she was out the door of the hut, slamming it behind her.
* * *
“Catherine!” Jason yelled after her, tugging his jeans on as quick as he could.
She hesitated for just a moment and he thought she was going to come back, but instead she looked over her shoulder at him.
“Just leave me alone!”
She sounded so haunted, so desperate, that right in that moment he wanted to sweep her up in his arms and hold her tight, but she didn’t give him the opportunity. Instead she kept running and he cursed himself inwardly. What the hell had he been thinking, pushing it like that? He shook his head. That was the problem: hewasn’tthinking. He should have just let it lie. If Catherine wanted to believe the dreams and the hut were somehow tied to her family history, what was the harm in letting her believe it? Especially after what he knew she’d been through with her ex…
No.He slammed his fist into the stone wall, wincing at the crack of his knuckles, cradling his trembling, bleeding hand against his chest. He couldn’t let her think that. How could he? He had a responsibility to her, he had to help her see sense. To be logical. Realistic. What she was proposing was outrageous. It wasn’t even possible.
But that didn’t mean he thought she was crazy. Stressed, yes. Broken, yes. To his mind, stress and insanity were two very different things. But with her history of abuse…
“Oh, hell, what a mess,” he groaned.
He strode quickly to the door, looked in every direction. There was no sign of her. Which way had she gone? He debated going after her, but he knew it was pointless; he wasn’t a runner. Not in her league anyway. Riding and daily physical work kept him fit, but running over rough terrain was different. Knowing his luck, he’d fall over and break his neck. He’d just have to wait for her to come back.
* * *
Without looking back at the hut, Catherine ran. Her long legs stretched out in full strides, leaping over the clumps of tussock easily. Every muscle in her was body poised, tight. It felt so good to be running again—she’d forgotten how much she’d loved it; didn’t even realise she’d missed it.
His words repeated over and over in her head, in time to the pounding of her feet as she sprinted across the clearing, her arms pumping, her body fuelled by anger. He didn’t believe her! He thought she was crazy, just like Steve had done. The miserable bastard she’d wasted so many years of her life with. Well, she’d learned her lesson: she wasn’t letting a man treat her like that ever again. Not for any reason. If Jason thought her dreams were stress-induced—implying she was crazy just like Steve had tried so hard to convince her of—then she wasn’t interested in him. If he wouldn’t even listen to her when she told him they were trying to tell her something and just continued to dismiss it out of hand, then perhaps he wasn’t the man for her. Obviously, breaking up with him all those years ago had been the right thing to do.
She jumped over a muddy patch on the ground and made up her mind: they would return to Christchurch as soon as she got back to the hut and when they did, well, that would be it. The end ofthem.She’d gotten along just fine without him in her life for the past fourteen years; she’d get along just fine without him again.
The sheep track she was following turned sharply, weaving around the side of the mountain, and quickly got steeper. Right here, the climb was near vertical and she had to run bent almost in half, her hands grabbing at the tussocks to pull herself up the sharp incline. Soon the ground evened out and the track ended, but she picked up another one further up, winding its way through boulders.
Her lungs were burning now but she kept running, not slowing down at all. The emotions would stay with her if she didn’t run fast enough. She had to move quickly, leave them far behind. Only then would she be able to relax. Her muscles screamed in protest at the steepness of the track so she veered off it, running where the land was a bit flatter, the ground more level. It meant she could go even faster and she pumped her arms furiously, running with everything she had.
Slowly, she started to calm down. Running always calmed her down. The faster she ran, the calmer she became.
Another narrow track started further up the hill, and she followed it, running easily now. She wondered idly what sort of animals had made these tracks. It was clearly well used. Was it just the station sheep or did wild pigs and deer follow it, too? Perhaps wild goats—what was the flash kind that lived in the mountains… Chamois or Tahr or something? Were they even found this far south? She didn’t know. She didn’t know whether or not they could be dangerous, either, and for a moment she cursed her city living. She glanced back over her shoulder nervously. Maybe she shouldn’t venture too far from the hut just in case…
Stuff it, she thought.I’ll be fine.She wasn’t ready to go back yet. She’d have to face the music when she got there, she knew. He’d told her right from the start that he didn’t want her to run away from him.No running from me,she remembered him saying.You talk to me. If you need to run, we’ll run together. No running from me. Promise me right now, Catherine. No running from me.And she’d promised him. How could she not? When he’d told her about the woman he’d loved and lost, the woman who had ran from him and straight to her death—how could she not promise him, when she could see the hurt written all over his face? How could she ignore the anguish in his eyes and his broken voice? Of course she had promised him. She’d meant it too, back when she’d made it. But old habits die hard, and hurt was hard to escape from. And now that she’d run, turning around and going back was even harder.
* * *
“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Jason repeated, trying to convince himself of that. “There are no vehicles here for her to run into. She’s fine.”
And he was right—there were no vehicles out here. The chances of her running into the busy street and being hit by a car were nil. It couldn’t happen.
But plenty of things can!his inner mind screamed at him. This was the high country—the wilderness—anythingcould happen! She could trip and fall, hurting herself. She could get lost. She could die. Just because she wasn’t Louise… Just because they weren’t in New York… That didn’t mean Catherine was safe.
“I’ll give her an hour,” he said aloud.
Trying to distract himself, he turned on the gas burner to boil the kettle. Maybe a coffee would calm his nerves. It would give him something to do, anyway.
He sat outside in the sun, sipping on his coffee. It didn’t help. Different scenarios involving Catherine in the mountains ran over and over in his head, none of them good.
How fit was she even, these days? He knew she ate a terrible diet and drank far too much wine. Did she ever exercise? How long had it been since she’d been for a run? She’d probably give herself a heart attack, running around these hills like a lunatic in her state of unfitness.
“Stop it!” he told himself sternly. “The hour isn’t up yet.” Not that he knew what he would do when the hourwasup, but he was determined not to let himself worry until then. Because, chances were she would be fine. She’d go for a run, get her anger and upset out of her system, and return to the hut like nothing had happened. They could deal with her broken promise then, and continue building their relationship.
* * *
Catherine wasn’t as fit as she thought. Her sides were throbbing, like someone was stabbing a knife into her. The stitch. It had been a long time since she’d felt it.
