My hotel suite is quiet. Except not like the shroud of serenity that the forest would wrap Sawyer and I in. This is the silence of people trying to walk softly across carpeted halls. The silence of hushed whispers while the media prepares for the story event of the year. It’s the silence of being alone in a crowd. And it’s crushing.

I’ve spent the day being poked and prodded by curious doctors only to be released and brought back to the Telluride resort. I’ve been upgraded to their penthouse suite while they’ve graciously allowed the media to gather in their conference room so I can tell them that this amazing resort is in no way responsible for my drunken decision to run off into the woods.

Instead of being associated with my frozen, wolf-ravaged carcass, like they were expecting, they now get to bask in the glow of my safe return. Who doesn’t love a happy ending, right? Especially one that turns a profit.

The room is beautiful, every inch thoughtfully decorated with the highest quality materials. My television might as well be a movie screen, my hot tub a pool, and my sheets could be pure silk for how soft they are.

All of it is so… awful.

After only a few days away from all of this, it feels foreign. I’ve been walking around my room like a cat with paper bags on its feet, jumpy and self-aware. The monstrous television is too loud and too bright to comfortably watch. The hot tub feels overwhelming to my skin after days of melted snow baths, even the linens feel too slippery to be practical.

I miss the cabin.

I miss him.

Just a simple touch from his rough hands brought me more comfort than any of these luxuries. I try to imagine him in this room, enjoying these amenities. I can’t. It’s more natural to picture a walrus doing ballet than to envision him trying to fuck me on these satin sheets.

My body craves his touch as my mind flashes to him making me his by the fire, and in the snow shelter, and on the bed and…

“Mmmm,” the moan is involuntary. I can’t help how my back arches and my breasts heave at the thought of him. Just the memory makes me wet.

How am I going to get through this life without him? Why did he leave me?

The betrayal stings like the snap of a leather belt. The burn is deep and enduring, seeming to spread through me, radiating from my heart.

I pick up my phone as more tears fill my eyes. I can’t spend any more time crying. I just can’t. I’ve already given myself a headache for my trouble. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he’s gone. He left and that was his choice. There’s nothing I can do about it now.

I swipe my thumb across my cell like a reflex and the screen comes to life with a ding. I don’t mean to open my photo gallery of the pictures of the run-down cabin that began to feel like home.

I snort when I see the pose in my bikini bottoms and his shirt. Me trying to get another perfect butt selfie, while he threw our dinner at me. Was that only a few days ago? How is that possible? I feel like I’m catching glimpses of another lifetime.

I let my thumb hover over the belfie, my Instagram followers would love my butt selfie from the wild. I bet it would get more likes than anything I’ve ever posted.

The thought shrivels up and dies inside me, blowing away in the wind of my apathy. I couldn’t care less what anyone likes or doesn’t like about me, let alone these ridiculous poses. That’s not real. The sex pout over my shoulder while I push my ass out with my heels for maximum curvature, is the furthest thing from reality. Not like the moments that were never recorded. The laughter and tears Sawyer and I shared. The moments with his arms around me as the world became our own personal snow globe. The meals he pieced together. The sex.

That was real.

This, it’s just phony.

I push the button on the side of my phone, forcing my screen to fade to black. I’m not posting these. I don’t give a shit how many likes it would get. All I care about is him.

A sudden knock at my door makes me jolt upright in bed and breathe little, shallow puffs of air like I need to ration the oxygen around me.

Is it him?

I jump from the plush mattress and cross the floor with the beat of my pulse vibrating through my whole body.

Did he come back for me?

I wipe my fingers under my eyes and fix myself up as I reach for the handle. He didn’t run away. He didn’t abandon me. He…

I open the door.

“Hey babe! Say hi to over fifteen thousand of your closest friends, you’re live streaming on Facebook!” Ben doesn’t wait for me to react before pushing past me into the room with his phone inches from my surprised face.

“What are you doing?” My voice is as dead as my love for him. Flatlined, with no hope of revival.

“Mmm, babe you’re looking fine. Did you lose a bit of weight out there in the snow? Damn girl, it looks good on ya! Just make sure you don’t lose that ass though, am I right?” He turns the cell around to his obnoxious face and licks his lips theatrically. “How about you throw some hearts across my screen if you agree out there, ok? Show my girl some loving, people!” Ben demands to the faceless crowd infringing on my privacy.

“Ben, shut it off,” I hiss, not wanting to be picked up by the mic.

“What’s that, hon?” he twists it back around to record me and I scowl. “How about you show us that you didn’t injure that sweet ass of yours and give the people at home a little twerk, hon? Come on, be a good girl and give us some jiggle, am I right? Throw those hearts up if you agree!”

My eyes flicker to his screen full of floating, pink hearts and thumbs up signs. Comments are filling up the bottom half of his phone screen at an unreadable pace.

“No, I said turn it off.” I grit my teeth and raise my voice. I don’t give a fuck if the mic does pick me up.

Suddenly, it comes to me. I want him to shut this off? Hit him where it hurts.

“Ben,” I pout, “we need to talk about how you fucked my sister the night I ran off. I almost died out there in the cold, of a broken heart, because you couldn’t be loyal to me for ten minutes.” I let my crocodile tears build up and Ben’s abnormally tanned face bleaches out.

“Why don’t you turn the phone around and explain how you almost helped destroy me by fucking my sister at our engagement party, hon? Hey, at home, send some love if you want to hear him explain himself.” I egg on the Facebook Live streamers.

A flood of open mouthed smileys making the “Wow” face rush over the screen.

Ben drops the phone to his side and turns it off.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He sneers and grabs my shoulder. “Why are you trying to ruin me?”

“Don’t worry about it honey, maybe you should just twerk it off or something.” I force a fake smile to cross my face.

“Listen, I know you think you saw something that night, but I think you were just drunk. You know how you’re a bit of a lightweight, especially with the expensive champagne, am I right?” He stops clenching my arm and lets his hand drop. “There’s no reason we can’t move on. Just think of how epic our story will be. Everyone thought you were dead! We’ll be, like, a hundred times more famous if you play this right. I bet there could be a movie made about us,” he brags.

“Imagine the possibilities,” my words are as cold as the arctic air that whistled around the cabin at night.

“Ok, so I fucked Kate. It was a mistake. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it. Let’s move on and soak up all this buzz. You want to ruin what could be the biggest career move of all time for you because you’re pissed at me getting my noodle wet? Come on!” He gives up on his old sales pitch and tries a new direction.

“There is no us. There’s no story to tell. You and I are over, Ben.”

“Come on, we have this press conference to do.” He steamrolls over me.

“We?”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of media. You know, the poor almost widower thing, but this is ten times better. Now that you’re alive, we could have books written about us. I’ve gained, like, another two thousand followers today.”

“Fuck you, Ben,” I storm across the room and fling open my hotel door. “I’m doing this conference to thank the people who found me and then if I ever see your fucking face again, I’ll be getting a restraining order.”

“Oh, come on. So dramatic!” He cries out and I let the door slam shut behind me.

I have to resist the urge to throw my fur coat on and run back out into the woods again. I have to stop telling myself that just on the other side of those trees is my salvation. My real man, waiting for me. He left. He left me and there’s nothing I can do.

I look back at the door and listen to Ben talk on his phone. Probably to my sister. Foster sister.

One thing is certain, my salvation might not be in Sawyer, but I’ve found it in myself. I’m stronger now and I will never, ever let any man treat me like I deserve less than the best again.