Page 56 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
The transparent excuse to avoid further conversation should irritate me. Instead, it just aches.
"Caleb—"
"It's better this way." His eyes meet mine briefly before sliding away. "Cleaner."
He's gone before I can respond, disappearing into the forest with the efficiency of someone who belongs there far more than I ever could.
I watch until his form vanishes among the trees, then continue to the cabin that suddenly feels emptier than when I first arrived.
Inside, I move mechanically through packing, gathering scattered belongings from corners where they've migrated during my stay. Each item collected feels like dismantling evidence of my presence here, erasing traces of days that already seem dreamlike in their intensity.
He's giving me the perfect out—a way to leave without complications. It's exactly what the old Harper would want.
So why does it feel so wrong?
Chapter 15
Evening descendswith the finality of an executioner's axe.
Shadows bleed long and dark across the cabin floor as I fold the last of my clothes into my backpack. Each item carries a weight. Each zipper tug agoodbyeI don’t want to say out loud. The room smells like pine and ash and him. Like the silence that’s settled thick between us.
The radio crackles on Caleb's desk, a harsh, static-laced sound that slices through the stillness like a warning shot.
"Sierra Station, this is Dispatch. Do you copy?"
I freeze. My heart clenches. There it is. The thing we've both been pretending wouldn’t come.
Caleb, silent since returning an hour ago, looks up from the notes he’s been pretending to organize. His jaw flexes, and then he moves to the radio, his voice low and steady. Controlled.
"Sierra Station. Go ahead, Dispatch."
"Roads are officially cleared to Blue Spruce Campground. Rangers will be passing your location at 0800 tomorrow forsupply delivery. Can arrange transport for your visitor if needed."
His eyes meet mine across the room. The look holds me still. Like a hand wrapped tight around my ribs.
"Copy that. She'll be ready. Sierra Station out."
He sets the handset down with a kind of care that’s louder than a slam. I can't breathe around the pressure in my chest.
"So. Tomorrow morning," he says.
"Tomorrow morning," I echo, fingers worrying the zipper of my bag like it’s something I can control. "Sounds like my eviction notice is official."
The joke dies before it lands. Caleb doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smirk. He turns his back, rifling through papers that definitely don’t need rifling.
"Need anything for the trip back? Water, snacks?"
"I'm good." I buckle my pack like I’m bracing for battle. "Though I should probably call my agent once I have reliable service. The deadline for the Australia position?—"
"Right." He cuts me off. No hesitation. No softness. "You must be eager to get back to civilization. Real showers, decent coffee."
"The coffee here isn't half bad." I force a smile that feels more like a fracture.
A pause.
"And the company has been... unexpected."
His shoulders tense, broad and unmoving beneath his flannel, but when he turns, something in his expression cracks open. Just a little.
