The line is slightly relaxed, just like it’s supposed to be as I sit on the rock, waiting. This is the best time of day to go fishing, the sun’s too warm in the main parts of the lake for the fish to want to be out there, but here in this cove, the trees provide plenty of shade and they stay hungry looking for the bugs and other stuff that drops in from above.

The bobber on my line twitches, but it’s just a play, not an actual bite, and I wait, forcing myself to be still. It’s hard, I want to just keep going, to run and run and never stop running.

That night, hearing the way they laughed at me, the way Justin kissed Chrissy, it tore me apart. I thought I was doing the right thing, going into town. I thought I could deal with my fear, the things that I had flashbacks over for months. I thought that I could be the man Chrissy needs.

But obviously I’m not everything she needs. I should have seen it when she came over and told me that Justin was taking her to the Social. I should have seen it when she left that I couldn’t be the man she deserves. She deserves freedom, and the ability to be everything she can be.

I was just… greedy. I should have realized that regardless of how much I might possibly give Chrissy, she’s someone who deserves more than what I can offer her. I mean, it wasn’t like I said I wanted to be exclusive. It just didn’t come up because I didn’t see anyone else.

My bobber dips below the surface and I snatch up my line, reeling it in. It’s a trout, just the right size for me to finish completely. I clean and prepare him as fast as I can, not wanting to waste time or to let the fish suffer. Besides, fishing wasn’t good yesterday, and I’m hungry.

Not that I’m in any danger of starving. Staying light, moving through the woods, I’ve learned enough outdoorcraft over the past few years that I can find plenty of food to supplement the few things I brought with me. It’s late summer still, but there’s enough acorns around that I’m able to rinse and toast up enough to keep my stomach full, and there’s enough other edible greens and more I’ll be fine for awhile.

But I’m not out here for a back to nature diet cleanse. I’m here because I need to get my head and heart right, and as the trout cooks over the fire I think. Maybe I just need to move on. I’m sure I can get a decent price for the cabin, I’ve put in enough upgrades and the real estate market’s doing pretty well in the area. One thing though, I’m not going to list it through that fucker Justin Cassady.

I can’t believe I’m thinking of running away, but I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of the looks, of Bobbi Valentine’s sniping comments and the rumors. I’m tired of feeling trapped, of not even being able to have a barbecue. I hate myself, and my weakness. The only thing I thought I could feel strong about was Chrissy, and I failed her there, too.

I don’t know, maybe she was kissing Justin because she wanted to. Maybe she wasn’t, and I should have gone over there and knocked him the fuck out. Maybe… for days my head’s been swirling with maybes, and that’s the only reason I haven’t gone back in.

Every other time I’ve had to pull a fade like this, a quick trip into the woods and a camp by the lake has been short and sweet. The longest I went out was three days, and I’ve been out here over a week now. I’ve slept wrapped in a plastic sheet, pine needles my mattress. I’ve hiked along the shore back and forth when I haven’t been foraging and fishing, and if I were Henry David Thoreau I’d probably be halfway through writing Walden at this point.

“So where do I go from here?” I ask my cooked trout as I pull it from the fire and take a bite out of the warm flesh, careful to avoid the bones. “Back to the cabin, or do I keep running?”

I’ve been running for so long, and after six years I’m tired of running. And Chrissy… no matter how much it hurt to watch her dance and kiss another man, I want her. I’ve come to realize that I’ve done more than just let her into my life. She’s more than just a woman that I fuck, or a casual girlfriend. I need her, and I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without her.

To have her though, I need to be more than the haunted, scarred wreck of a man that I’ve become. I need to be complete… hell, I need to be able to do more than just live off my disability payments from the fire department. It’s not the money, fifty five thousand a year may not be poverty wages, but I’m also not starving.

No, I need to be stronger. And it’s not strength in my arms, or in my legs. This is a measure of the strength of the heart, of the soul. It’s strength of my mind, not to break when I’m faced with the weight of the world on my shoulders again.

So I guess the question is, can I be strong enough to fight for her?