The Retreat

Morning brought the sun, the snowplows, and the cold, hard light of reality.

Harper woke up alone. The spot beside her was cold.

She sat up, pulling the blanket around her. "Silas?"

He was in the kitchen area, packing a duffel bag. He was fully dressed, boots laced tight. His back was rigid.

"What are you doing?" Harper asked, a knot forming in her stomach.

Silas didn't turn around. "Roads are clearing. I'm taking you back to the garage."

"And then?"

"And then I'm leaving."

Harper scrambled up, ignoring the twinge in her ankle. "Leaving? Silas, last night—"

"Last night was a lapse in judgment," Silas cut her off. His voice was steel again. Command voice. "I took advantage of a vulnerable situation. You were injured. We were trapped. It shouldn't have happened."

"Don't you dare," Harper walked over to him, grabbing his arm. "Don't you dare dismiss this as a 'lapse.' You felt it. I know you did."

Silas turned. His eyes were haunted. "That's exactly why I have to go. You have a whole life ahead of you, Harper. You need someone who can build that with you. Not a ghost who's just waiting to die."

"I don't want someone else! I want you!"

"You think you do," Silas said, pulling his arm away. "But eventually, the PTSD will wake you up screaming. Eventually, you'll realize I'm just an old soldier with nothing to offer but a pension and bad memories. I promised Toby I’d protect you. The best way I can do that is to protect you from me."

He picked up the bag.

"I paid off Miller," Silas said flatly. "The deed to the garage is on your workbench. You're free, Harper. You don't need me anymore."

He walked out the door.

Harper stood there, stunned. He had bought her freedom and then used it as a severance package.

The sound of his truck engine roaring to life snapped her out of it.

"You coward!" she screamed at the closed door.

She wasn't going to let him do this. She wasn't going to let another man leave her because he thought he knew better.

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