Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
I stop in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. The conflict is written all over my face—fear, uncertainty, longing. I don’t recognize the woman looking back at me. She’s afraid. Afraid of what staying means, afraid of what being with Barron means. Afraid that if she stays, she’ll lose herself. But at the same time, I know that if I leave, if I run now, I’ll be walking away from something even more important.
I press my hand against my chest, feeling the rapid beat of my heart. I’ve always prided myself on being independent, on not needing anyone or anything to keep me grounded. But with Barron, it’s different. He makes me feel seen, understood, in ways I’ve never experienced before. And that’s what scares me the most. The thought that I could lose that, lose him, if I keep running.
My gaze shifts back to the window, the forest outside bathed in moonlight. The trees are tall and unyielding, much like Barron, and for the first time, I wonder if I’m strong enough to stand still. Strong enough to stay.
I take a deep breath, my heart heavy with indecision. I’ve never felt so rooted to a place—or to a person—before. And it terrifies me. The idea of staying, of building something real, is both thrilling and terrifying. But the idea of leaving, of walking away from Barron, from everything we’ve started to build together, feels like a loss I’m not sure I can handle.
I move to the window again, my fingers tracing the cool glass as I stare out into the night. The distance between Barron and me feels palpable, like a barrier I’ve put up to protect myself. But the truth is, I’m already in too deep. I know it, feel it in every moment we’ve shared, every stolen kiss in the forest.
I turn away from the window, my heart heavy with uncertainty. The fire in the hearth crackles softly, casting flickering shadows across the room. It’s a quiet, intimate space, but tonight, it feels like a battleground. A place where I have to make a choice that will change everything.
As I stand there, staring into the flames, I know one thing for sure—whatever decision I make, it’s going to change everything. I can't keep pretending that nothing has shifted inside me, that Barron hasn’t become more than just a passing attraction. He’s stirred something deep, something real, and the weight of that realization presses heavily against my chest.
But what does staying really mean? It’s not just about him—it’s about me. About everything I’ve spent my life building and avoiding at the same time. I’ve never been tied down. I’ve been to places most people have only dreamed of, seen things no one else will ever see. It’s who I am—rootless, always moving, always searching for the next adventure. But now... now there’s this quiet in the pit of my stomach, a whisper I can’t ignore, telling me that maybe there’s more to life than wandering. Maybe the real adventure is in standing still. In finding something—someone—worth staying for.
I cross the room again, my steps slower this time, my mind a mess of tangled thoughts. The more I try to push away my feelings, the stronger they come rushing back. Barron’s face flashes in my mind—those intense eyes, the way he looks at me like he sees every piece of me, even the ones I try to hide. He doesn’t ask for more than I’m willing to give, but his presence demands it. And that’s what scares me.
I reach the small, worn wooden table in the center of the cabin, running my hand over the smooth surface. Scattered across it are pieces of my life—maps, journals, photos of the places I’ve been. They’re my history, my freedom, my identity. But tonight, they feel distant. They don’t hold the same weight they used to.
I pick up one of the notebooks, flipping through the pages. The notes inside are meticulous, documenting every discovery, every path I’ve walked. But as I stare down at my handwriting, at the memories I’ve recorded with such precision, I realize they don’t feel like enough anymore. They were always placeholders—distractions, maybe. I was always moving, always running, so I wouldn’t have to face what was really missing.
And now I know what that is.
My hands tighten on the edge of the table as my heart pounds. Barron. He’s the missing piece, the thing I didn’t even know I was looking for. He’s more than just a man, more than just a distraction from my usual path. He’s someone who makes me feel anchored in a way that doesn’t make me feel trapped. He makes me feel free, even as I’m standing still.
But it’s a different kind of freedom, one I don’t know.
I think of how he turned down my invitation to dinner and my stomach twists with anxiety. Does he only want to use me? Discard me like I’m nothing more than a fun distraction for him? He’s been avoiding giving me his heart for reasons I now understand, but why does it feel like he’s been avoiding my very presence too? I spend the next few minutes getting ready for bed as my thoughts swirl on visions of Barron’s head between my thighs, the quiet forest breathing around us. I want more of something that only he can give, and living without it feels more unbearable with each passing moment.