Page 55 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
The question hits uncomfortably close to my unexamined feelings.
"That's not fair."
"Life rarely is." His expression softens slightly. "I care about you. More than I ever expected to, more than I wanted to, if I’m being completely honest. But I won't let you turn down the kind of opportunity you've worked your entire career to earn."
"That's not your decision to make." Indignation rises, familiar and comforting compared to the complicated emotions beneath it.
"No, it's yours." He steps closer, voice gentling. "And you should make it without the pressure of whatever this is between us. Without romantic notions clouding your professional judgment."
"You think that's what's happening?" I wrap arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm sunshine. "That I'm some lovesick girl ready to throw away my career for a man I just met?"
“I think you’reconflicted. I think what’s happened between us has been intense and unexpected for both of us.” His hands lift, hover like they want to reach for me, then fall uselessly to his sides.
“And you’re a complicating factor.” My voice comes out flatter than I intend, the quiet hurt behind it masked by pride.
His jaw tightens. “We both are.”
He looks past me, out toward the horizon, but I feel the shift—like I’m already slipping out of reach. “This place, the storm… it created a bubble. A space where everything felt heightened. Real. And it is. But that doesn’t mean it can survive outside of it.”
“You’re saying it’s not real.”
“No.” He turns back to me, eyes shadowed with something too deep for words. “I’m saying itfeelsreal, because itis real. But that doesn’t mean it’s meant to last beyond this.”
The ache in my chest cracks wider.
“I would never ask you to give up your dreams,” he says softly, “not for me. Not for something that might not survive once we’re back in the world where deadlines and decisions and distance are real.”
“So this is you… what? Letting me go before I even decide to stay?”
He shakes his head, grief buried behind quiet resolve. “This is me loving you enough not to let what we have become something you’ll regret.”
My breath catches.
Loving me.
He said it. Not in a grand declaration or sweeping vow, but quietly. Unflinchingly. As if it’s always been true.
And that’s what undoes me.
Not the part where he’s trying to protect my future.
Not the part where he’s already preparing for goodbye.
But the part where he’s doing it out of love.
Because Caleb isn’t walking away from me.
He’s walking awayforme.
"We should head back. You'll want to be packed and ready when the roads clear."
The hike down passes in strained silence, the camaraderie of earlier replaced by physical and emotional distance. We move efficiently, speaking only when necessary about trail conditions or approaching weather. The comfortable vibe between us is replaced by awkward tension and distance.
When the cabin finally comes into view, that tension has crystallized into something brittle and painful.
Caleb stops at the forest's edge, gesturing toward the structure that was a prison, then a sanctuary, and now simply a temporary accommodation.
"I need to check the eastern trail before dark. Radio, if you need anything."
