My mouth feels like when I got my wisdom teeth yanked out and they had it all packed with cotton balls around my gums. Except this time, I can’t blame my impacted teeth. Only my low tolerance for the hard stuff.

Still, last night was fun though. More than fun, I go over the moments Sawyer and I shared as I try to convince my eyelids to be brave enough to flutter open and face the daylight.

Who knew that I could have so much in common with someone like him. It’s not like we agree on everything. Far from it. But it’s refreshing to have someone who isn’t afraid to have different opinions. My thoughts flicker back to what feels like my old life. After only a few days here, my time with my cheating ex, Ben, feels like a distant memory. The kind that the color and details only bleed back into when you stumble across an old picture that documented a day you would’ve otherwise forgotten.

When I was with Ben and his crowd, we never did anything as brash as disagree or debate. When you’re a part of a crowd like that, you keep the peace and bite your tongue. Crass arguments have no place at parties, that’s what Twitter is for.

I pry open my heavy eyelids and look into the face of a man who, in only a few days, has made me question everything I thought I wanted in this lifetime. After growing up as an outsider in my own family, I was desperate to be accepted. Not just by my Instagram followers, but by Ben, by anyone who was living a life that I had only dreamed of as an unloved foster kid orphaned by her parents’ drug addiction.

However, with that acceptance came a high price. I could never really be myself. I could never have real conversations about my life or my experiences. I was just a prop. A round ass contorted in a million online pictures and a pretty face on a famous poker billionaire’s arm. I was accepted but judged for everything I said and did.

How did I ever let myself get so buried in that life?

I run my hand over Sawyer’s thick but soft beard and smile. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping. His gruff exterior melts away and exposes his softer side. His lips twitch into a half smile, but he’s still sleeping heavily.

Sawyer hasn’t given a shit about how I’ve been dressed. How my hair looks. How many ways I can pop my ass out for another ‘belfie.’ He’s been the exact opposite. Only caring about my thoughts, my history, about… me.

He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. His question from last night pops into my brain. He wants me to live with him, just us, at his cabin. I told him I needed to sleep on it, but in the light of day, I know that it’s the only life I want. I could never go back to the vast void that I called living. Once a bird has swooped and dove through the pale blue sky, can it ever return to a cage?

I know what I need to do. But, first I need water. If I’m going to go live off grid with Sawyer, I should probably get used to doing the work that goes with it. I sit up and my head spins. The fresh air will help me feel better. I’m going to surprise him and go get the snow we need to wash away our hangovers and get some coffee started.

I scramble to my feet and the cold air clings to my naked body, draining me of heat and leaving me a shivering, teeth chattering mess.

I quickly grab Sawyer’s jacket and put it on, zipping it all the way up. From the floor, I put on my pants and then slip my feet into my big boots. My violent shaking settles down into an occasional tremble down my spine as I warm back up.

Over on the window ledge a flashing catches my eye. My heart beats quickly as I realize my phone is lighting up with messages. I must have signal!

I don’t move for a second. I’m not sure I want to read any of them. I’m not sure I want to still be attached to the life I’m ready to walk away from. Maybe I should tell Kate that I’m okay and to call off the search that is supposed to be coming this way soon. I don’t want to send them on a wild goose hunt for someone who doesn’t want to be found.

I slowly close the gap between me and my phone. The device that was once an extension of my hand now feels like an intrusion on my space. On my freedom. I gingerly lift it from the window ledge and glance down at the screen.

You have 473 unread text messages

Wow, I don’t even want to think about that. Only a few days ago, it would’ve felt amazing to see so many attempts to get a hold of me. So many people desperate to find me. Now, I resent it.

As I swipe my thumb over my phone and bring my screen to life, I reach into Sawyer’s jacket pocket to warm my other hand. I’m going to need to get him to teach me how to get a fire going like he does. It’s amazing how quickly he can have a roaring blaze going from nothing.

My fingers graze across something crinkly and rough, distracting me from the scrolling list of bolded, unanswered texts. I grasp the paper in his pocket and pull it out, freezing in place as I realize what I’m holding.

It’s a photograph. The old kind that people put in albums. In it, his family is smiling at the camera, standing around a stainless-steel counter in a huge restaurant kitchen.

That must be Il Lupi, back when he felt like his family was his wolf pack.

Will he ever feel that way about me? Will we form our own family? Our own wolf pack?

I run my thumb over the wrinkled, worn photo. Sawyer looks younger, and strange without a beard. His eyes sparkle with a breath of life I’ve only seen glimmers of. His mother is gorgeous, was gorgeous, I correct my thought. His father looks so proud, his shoulders thrown back and his arm around his wife. His brother is every bit as handsome as Sawyer.

It’s such a shame he lost them. I can’t imagine that pain. I lost my parents to drugs well before they were taken from me by authorities. It sounds like Sawyer lost his family in an accident. I can see the wound is still so fresh, I haven’t wanted to pry. I know he’ll tell me when he’s ready.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I swirl around on my heel in surprise as Sawyer stands behind me with rage twisting his features down.

“What? What do you mean?” I look at him with surprise. My hands are still frozen. Once clutching my phone and one holding his family photo.

Sawyer stomps across the room and yanks the picture from my grasp. “You’re taking a picture of my family?” He glares at me, “I thought you changed? That you didn’t care about all this social media shit anymore? And you’re trying to get some kind of Instagram shot of my dead parents and brother?” His eyes flash with anger I’ve never seen in any person before. I don’t know what to say, I open my mouth but words don’t form.

“I can’t believe you. I understand that you don’t want to come back with me, that’s fine. It was obviously a mistake to ask you anyway,” he seems impervious to the cold, despite being completely naked. Normally, that would distract me, but all I can focus on is his anger. It’s seething from him. Radiating around the room like a dark cloud of atomic dust.

“I wasn’t. I didn’t take a picture! Check my phone,” I protest, holding it out to him.

“I saw you holding your phone over the picture, Ashley! Do you think I’m stupid? I know how much you need to document this shit. How much attention did you think this will get for you? Huh? Pretty good score, right? Dead family of the crazy woodsman you shacked up with. That’s gotta be at least fifty thousand likes, right?” He roars, his face burning crimson.

“I know it looked like that, but I wasn’t. Check, you can see for yourself,” my hand trembles as I hold out my phone but he turns away in disgust.

“It’s time to get you back where you belong. Take my coat off, I’m bringing you back to the city. I’ll get my supplies that I need to survive and you’ll get the internet love that you need to survive,” his voice is colder than the ice-covered snow that waits for us outside this cabin.

What happened to him? How could he turn on me so quickly? I blink back my tears and pull the zipper down on his parka, letting it fall to the floor. Quickly, I pull on the shirt I’ve been wearing and get dressed.

As I button up my fur coat, I feel my engagement ring from Ben dig into my hand. I pull it out with disgust. Now the huge diamond looks too clunky, too gaudy, too fake. I place the ring on the counter. Maybe the owners of this cabin can hock it. It’s the best reward I can think of for us using their place like this. Across the room, Sawyer angrily shoves his feet into his boots.

It looks as though in my pathetic need to be loved, I made another mistake. I fell into the arms of another man who I’d hoped was different. Who I wished would love me.

How could he? He doesn’t even know you. And you don’t know him. I feel like I’m lying to myself. I thought I did know Sawyer. But, how could I? If I knew him, really knew him, this wouldn’t be happening. He wouldn’t be ready to drop me on the side of the highway like a sack of garbage ready for collection.

My parents, my followers, my ex-fiancé, my foster family… none of them loved me.

Why would he?