Page 4 of Knot Her Mountain Men

I couldn’t feel bad for wanting to move on with my life, no matter how much Brandon might protest. I was twenty-seven and surrounded by people who didn’t really know me, and, I was pretty sure, they didn’t actually want to anyway. It was much more a tenuous alliance built out of familiarity. Surely the city couldn’t be any lonelier?

Honestly, my actual ideal would be a gorgeous cabin in the middle of nowhere, but with great Internet. The solitude of the woods was so peaceful, and I could take photos of animals and gorgeous landscapes until I died. I wanted people to see the beauty in the quiet spaces. The national parks were incredible, and I loved them, but they weren’t the only gorgeous views on offer.

Back in our toasty tent, I lay on my cot, reading the latest post from one of my favorite wilderness blogs:Does a Bear Shoot in the Woodsby Bear Mackenzie. This one was on indigenous hunting techniques. The only shooting I was interested in doing myself was with my camera, but maybe it was my desire to live in the woods that kept me learning about some of the things that it would take to survive out there. I’d been reading Bear’s blog for years, learning about local wild foods, animals, hunting, fishing, and recipes.

It seemed so idyllic. Maybe one day that would be me.

“Dinner looks about ready,” said Brandon, poking at our chili in the pot.

“Perfect.” I sat up and accepted a bowl, blowing on it so I didn’t scald my mouth.

He sat down next to me, crowding me to the end of the cot. “What’s your plan, Morgan?”

“For what?” I set my bowl aside, leaning away from him.

“Us.”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re pushing thirty and you’ve been stringing me along for a fucking decade. It’s getting old. I’m not going to wait around forever and I need to know that we’re something before you leave.”

“I’m not asking you to wait around. In what universe have I been stringing you along?”

“Inthis one,” he snapped. “Jesus, Morgan. Don’t be stupid.”

I curled into myself. “I’ve said noeverysingle time you’ve asked me out.”

“And then nothing changed. How am I supposed to take you seriously?”

I stared at him for a long moment, unsure what exactly he wanted me to say. “What was supposed to change?”

“Youwere supposed to change. You don’t want to be with me? Then stop fucking treating me like I’m important and acting like you want to be around me.”

“Are you serious? You’re mad because I continued to treat you like a friend and not a pariah?”

“God, you’re such a fucking cunt.”

His words caught me off guard, my heart racing at the sharpness in his tone.

“They were right telling me not to bother with you. Everyone said you had a stick up your ass and were too frigid for me to hope for that to change.” Brandon shot to his feet, towering over me and making me want to slink beneath the cot for some modicum of a shield between us.

“That’s not fair.”

Brandon growled. I had never been afraid of him before, but that sound set every little hair standing on end. “You know what’s actually not fair, Morg? You spending days in the woods alone with me. What kind of message do you think you’re sending to literally everyone we know?”

“That I trust you?” I swallowed hard, all of that trust melting away. “No one else likes winter camping with us and I don’t want to go by myself.”

He let out a bitter laugh.

“You like camping,” I insisted. “That’s why I invite you.”

Brandon snorted.

“I’m serious. If I thought you hated this, I would never ask you.”

“And then what fucking chance would you give me?”

I chewed my lip. I probably wouldn’t see much of him at all outside of group settings if that were the case, though at this point not seeing him ever again was sounding like a pretty good deal.

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