Page 20 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Muse
I feel like I’m underwater, my body frozen and my mind screaming at me to move. To fight. To run. But I’m stuck. Just like I always used to be with him—trapped in a moment where all the power was his.
Tears spring to my eyes, hot and humiliating. I don’t want to cry. Not in front of him. Not again.
But the tears come anyway. I don’t respond. I don’t breathe. I just stare, my heartbeat thudding like a war drum in my chest.
He stops a few feet away, hands in his pockets, casual, like we’re just two old friends bumping into each other. “Been looking for you,” he says, eyes flicking to Pickles, then back to me. “Didn’t think you’d be hiding out in the mountains.”
“How did you find me?” I ask, my voice coming out shaky but sharper than I mean.
He tilts his head like I’ve asked something silly. “Come on, Dais. You really think I wouldn’t keep tabs on you? I’ve had the tracker on your phone for months.”
My stomach turns. “What?”
He shrugs. “Don’t look at me like that. I needed to know you were safe.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You needed tocontrolme.”
His jaw flexes, but his smile stays. “You always do this—turn everything into something it’s not. I just want to talk. I’ve changed.”
“No, Mark.” I take a step back, trying to breathe through the panic clawing at my chest. “We’re done. We’ve been done.”
He looks hurt, like I’ve just kicked a puppy, likehe’sthe one who’s been wronged. “I know I messed up. I know I wasn’t perfect. But that was the past. Let’s start over. Come home with me.”
I shake my head, the words bubbling out before I can stop them. “I had a black eye for two weeks the last time I went home with you.”
That stops him. The fake charm drops from his face, replaced by something darker. I don’t let it silence me this time.
“You told me it was my fault for ‘getting in the way.’ You said I made you angry, like that justified everything. You think I forgot that?” My voice cracks, but I don’t care. “You don’t get to act like none of it happened.”
His mouth opens, then closes. He glances around, as if someone might be watching.
“I said I’d be better,” he mutters, like it’s some kind of magic spell.
“You don’t get to decide that for me.” I’m trembling, but I don’t back down. “I don’t want better. I wantgone.I want safe. I want nothing to do with you.”
He steps forward and I take another step to the side.
“Don’t,” I warn. “Don’t take another step.”
Pickles lets out a tiny growl from the carrier, and I swear that sound gives me the strength to stay standing.
“I’m not going with you,” I say. “Not now. Not ever.”
He takes a step closer. I can smell his cologne—same one as always. Too strong. Too familiar. “I know you, Daisy,” he says softly, like we’re sharing a secret. “You don’t have money. You don’t have a place to go. You’re not the type to sleep on a bench or live out of a car.”
I feel the words land one by one like bricks stacking on my chest.
“You’re scared,” he continues. “I get it. But you don’t have to be. Just come back. I’ve got the apartment, your stuff’s still there, I’ve got a job again. We can fix it.”
I swallow hard. My grip on Pickles’ carrier tightens until my knuckles burn.
He’s right. Iamscared. I have nowhere to sleep tonight. I can already feel the cold pressing in as the sun sinks lower behind the mountains. The idea of being alone out here—of not knowing what comes next—is terrifying.
But the idea of going back withhim?
That’s a different kind of fear.
Adeeperkind.
