Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
That’s something I couldn’t have predicted for this research trip. But every good thing has an end, and this bizarre chapter—or aside—is over.
After my sex education yesterday, we hung out for a while. I pulled out my tablet and we watched The Voice together. We slept in separate bedrooms again.
Today the sun’s melted the snow enough for Caleb to get his truck out, and he says he should be able to drive me back to the research cabin.
I can’t figure out how to arrange my thoughts or feelings as we leave. It’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience, watching it all happen without context or reference.
As we drive back, I try to pretend I’m not a changed woman, like he didn’t just rock my world with crazy rough sex and make me fall in love with a hurting but kind soul hiding behind the gruff exterior.
“Well, thanks,” I murmur when the pickup truck pulls up behind my Subaru, which is completely covered in snow. “For everything.”
Caleb cuts the engine and opens his door, like he’s going to come in with me.
Okay, I didn’t expect that, but we haven’t really defined what happens next.
Bear barrels past Caleb, leaping out and rushing off to sniff things. Caleb puts his nose in the air and sniffs, too, eyes scanning the perimeter of the cabin.
“What?”
“Just making sure no one’s been around here.”
My mouth falls open in surprise, but I look, too. There aren’t any footprints in the snow—everything appears undisturbed.
“Because of the missing women?”
He gives a single, curt nod. His brows are down, mouth drawn up tight. This is the man I first met. Unsmiling. Serious. Taciturn.
I wonder if he thinks there’s some connection between the missing women and his wife’s death. Surely not.
“I don’t like you staying here alone.” Somehow the sentiment sounds so different coming from him than it did from the convenience store guy. So much more personal. His concern for me fills my chest like liquid warmth.
“Thanks, but we’ll be okay.” I look down at Bear.
“I don’t suppose there’s a landline in that hut.”
“No.” I’d noticed he doesn’t have a landline either. I guess he likes being permanently disconnected.
“If anyone shows up here for any reason, I want you to get in your car and drive to my cabin. Understand?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue, but Caleb looks so grumpy, I just nod. “Okay, thanks.”
His mouth tightens even more, the lines between his brows deepen.
I don’t know how I pictured our goodbye going—a hug, a handshake. A discussion on why we won’t exchange numbers for further contact. But it wasn’t this.
Caleb stalks back to his truck, the grouchy mountain man fully returned. He gets in and starts the engine, still surveying the research cabin with a frown.
And that’s it.
He drives away.
No hug, kiss or handshake. No thanks for the memories. Not even a nice to meet you.
I realize as he’s driving away I should have stopped him—to thank him for saving my life. And for changing my mind about sex. It even occurs to me to run after the truck and wave it down.
But I don’t.
I don’t move.
My boots stay rooted to the snow and I just watch the truck drive away, somehow seeming as prickly as its owner.
Well, damn.
I didn’t expect to feel so much loss.
As the truck disappears down the road, it’s like it took one of my organs with it. Some vital thing from the center of my chest. The emptiness feels near fatal.
Don’t be so dramatic—it was just sex.
It was just. Sex.
Tears prick my eyes. I didn’t want more. I didn’t even want sex. But now that I’ve experienced it Caleb-style—now that I’ve experienced Caleb—my solitary existence with Bear feels so shallow.
What am I doing? Working my ass off to prove myself to a bunch of men who will never see me as their equal because I have a pair of tits? And will my efforts ever be enough? Will I ever receive the recognition I desire? Or is there something more to life?
I look around me at the snow sparkling on the pine trees, at my feet. The air is crisp and fresh. The smell of the forest creates a physiological change in me. My breath slows. Muscles relax. Awareness expands out beyond the tiny sphere of my body. This forest, this mountain, this beautiful nature is the meaning behind all my work.
Sometimes I forget that. Research on climate change is about providing scientific analysis to the naysayers. Working on the ground level to create more consciousness about the situation. It’s not about me getting a tenured position at the university. It’s not about whose name goes first on a research paper, although it is about making sure that research gets published.
But also, it’s about balance. Taking time to breathe and enjoy the incredible nature we still have on this beautiful planet.