When they pulled up to her house Sunday evening, Hannah grimaced again as she got out of Cain’s truck, slung her bag over her shoulder, and climbed up her porch stairs feeling—and probably looking—like a 90-year-old woman.

They’d slept for hours before loading up and heading home. Hannah still felt stiff and tired, but her residual nausea was gone and she felt surprisingly good. After dumping off her stuff, Hannah turned to Cain and smiled.

“Fun weekend,” she quipped, making it sound like they’d merely taken a trip to the high country for fun.

Cain gave a half smile, but said nothing. He’d been quiet the whole way home, actually.

“You okay?” Hannah asked him. It wasn’t like Cain was much of a talker, and it wasn’t unusual for him to go long stretches without saying a word. But something made her ask, just in case.

He nodded. “Just tired. It’s been a while since I’ve run forty miles in the middle of the night.”

Hannah chuckled at that. “Thank you again. I owe you. And thanks for hanging with my friends.”

“Any time.”

Cain was still standing in her entryway area, instead of sitting down on the couch or rummaging through her liquor cabinet for the bourbon.

“You look like you’re about to leave. Do you need to get home?”

He nodded. “I’m on duty at five tomorrow.”

Hannah grimaced. “You didn’t take Monday off?”

He shook his head.

“What about dinner? I could whip something up for you before you go…”

He shook his head again. “I’m good.” He fiddled with his car keys. “I have a busy week ahead because I took the weekend off, so you may not see much of me for a few days. Is that alright?”

“Of course. Just call me when you get caught up.”

Cain glanced at the door, hesitating. Then he came over and gave Hannah a quick kiss before he left.

Hannah stood there, watching the door and the empty entryway. Something was wrong.

Or was it? She couldn’t tell. She was tired and so was he. Yet, they’d spent a chunk of the day sleeping, and Cain was used to working weird hours and wasn’t the type to turn into a basket case anytime his sleep wasn’t ideal. If anything, he was the opposite. So why did he seem so distant?

He’d been that way since the race ended. Was he fatigued, not just from running forty miles at night but from taking care of her all weekend? Was he burned out on people, having spent two days around so many of them? Did he need some time alone to just recover himself again, like the true introvert that he was? Hannah was introverted too, but Cain… well, he took introversion to a new level, where he was perfectly happy to avoid people most of the time. He didn’t hate people, despite his joking that he did; in fact, he cared for people and cared for their wellbeing, despite his pretending that he didn’t. And people like that… they needed time for themselves.

And she would give him that time.

Hannah had taken Monday off, like she did last year. She spent much of it relaxing: going for an hour-long morning hike to encourage healing, reading in her favorite chair, and catching up with those who wanted to know how her race went.

She talked to Teagan for a while, filling her in on the details. She talked to her mom, who still couldn’t fathom why Hannah ran so much or would put herself through such an ordeal, but who was happy for her.

“I’m sure Tom and your father would love to hear all about it,” her mother said.

Hannah knew what that meant. She was trying to get Hannah to mend fences with her father, whom she hadn’t spoken to since Christmas dinner. Her mom was always trying to get Hannah to forgive her father’s ways, but Hannah stubbornly refused. Her dad never called her anyway. Claire had always been the family connector, trying to keep them all together.

She told her mom she would make the call, with the intention of calling Tom and letting Tom relay the information to their dad. Affair or no affair, she was in no mood to listen to her father pontificate about her race.

After Hannah hung up the phone, she asked herself why. Why did her mother stay with her father after all he’d done? She’d wanted to ask her mom that question for years, but she could never manage it. She couldn’t bear to hear her mom rationalize her decision to stay in the marriage where her father took her for granted, where she seemed to work so hard for his love, only for him to give it to someone too young for him. It was painful enough to watch it happen over the years, but to listen to her mom deny her suffering and defend him? No way.

That week, Hannah went back to work, telling everyone about her race and reporting that the clothing and gear Athena had supplied her worked great. Everyone made a big deal about it, which embarrassed Hannah, but she humored them all.

When Friday rolled around, Hannah realized she hadn’t heard from Cain yet. He’d said he’d be busy that week, and things could get hairy in the E.R. sometimes, but usually he’d at least text her. Feeling concerned about him, she found her phone and called him.

“Hey,” came his deep voice. He sounded preoccupied.

“Hey. Are you at home?”

“On my way. I was just going to call you.”

“Long week?”

“Yeah… not too bad. But yeah.”

“Did you want to get together? Or do you need some down time?”

“No, we can do that. You mind coming over?”

“Not at all. I’ll bring something to throw on the grill.”

“Sounds good.”

Cain stood in front of the grill, manning their chicken and basket of vegetables as Hannah set the table and poured their drinks. When finished, they sat down to eat on the deck, the summer evening air warm and filled with the scent of grilled meat and summer flowers.

Cain still seemed quiet and withdrawn. He said little as they ate, and Hannah got the sense that something was off. She tried to recall their time together. Had he been this quiet before? If so, why did she notice it now? Was it different, or was she becoming one of those people who needed constant attention?

After dinner, when Hannah went to help Cain clean up the kitchen, she dropped one of his plates and broke it.

“Shit,” she muttered. “I’ll get the dustpan.”

But before she could retrieve it, Cain was two steps ahead of her and pulled out the dustpan and hand broom. Hannah reached for it, but Cain shook his head and refused to give it to her.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

“I got it,” he snapped.

Hannah stared at him. “Are you angry that I broke your plate? I’ll replace it—”

“It’s fine. It’s just a Target plate.” He bent down to collect the large pieces, and Hannah began helping him. When he went to sweep up the shards, Hannah was in the way. Before she could move, he gave her a look.

“Can you move?” he said, his tone grouchy.

Hannah’s face turned hot with anger. “No.”

He gave her one of his stares, the don’t-fuck-with-me kind she’d only seen once or twice.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” she cried.

“I’m trying to clean this up and you’re in the way.”

She shook her head. “No. That’s not it. You’ve been acting cranky all evening, and you’ve been weird ever since we got back from High Peaks. I didn’t hear a word from you all week.”

“I told you I would be busy all week.”

“So? You don’t have time to text or call me to talk for a minute?”

Cain rolled his eyes. “Come on. Are we really going to do this?”

“I’m going to ask you again, Cain. What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“You didn’t do anything,” he said, nudging her over so he could sweep up the glass shards.

Hannah moved out of the way, going to stand at the entrance of the tiny kitchen. Cain dumped the plate’s remains in the garbage and set the broom and dustpan aside. She kept waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he continued cleaning the dishes.

“Cain.” Cain looked over at her. “What the hell is going on? Did something happen at work?”

“Nothing happened at work,” he said, washing the silverware. “I just… I have a lot on my mind.”

“Such as?”

He frowned at her. “Why do you need to know?”

Hannah shrugged. “I don’t, I guess. But I can tell something’s wrong.”

“You know how I get—”

“Not like this. Not after all this time.” Hannah paused. “Is it because of what I said on Sunday? Because I told you I loved you? Did I get too ‘clingy’ for you?”

Cain’s stare turned chillier. “Don’t start with that.”

“Why not?” she pressed. “The last time you acted even remotely like this was when you told me you were being deployed. Is that it? Do you have to leave again?” She hoped that wasn’t the case. He’d only been back for barely three months, for crying out loud. But she could live with that. It was better than the alternative, the one she could barely bring herself to consider.

“No. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Did it freak you out that I said that? That I said the L word?”

He shook his head, focusing on rinsing the dishes and setting them on their drying rack. “You achieved a major life goal. Of course you would say that. You said it to your friends, too.”

“But I meant it, Cain. I meant everything I said. I do love you, and having you there meant everything to me.”

“You don’t have to say that—”

“Why not?” she cried, feeling her heart harden at Cain’s stubbornness. “Why shouldn’t I say it? Because it freaks you out? Because you think I’m going to get all clingy on you now and demand things from you? Is that why you’re acting so weird?”

Cain loaded the last dish into the rack and grabbed a rag to wipe the counters with. “Stop trying to guess what I’m feeling.”

“I wouldn’t have to guess, if you’d just tell me!” She was feeling more and more desperate, like someone trying to pry open a tightly closed clamshell, knowing the knife was about to slip out of her hand.

Cain looked at her, his eyes glowering. “You know me. You know my limitations. You said you could accept what I could give you.”

Hannah shook her head. “I’m not falling for that. You went out on a limb to pace me through that race and it was one of the best experiences of my life. And I told you from my heart how I felt, and it wasn’t because I was feeling high in the moment. I knew before then. And ever since I said it, you’ve been quiet, then avoided me for five days, and tonight you’re acting like a grumpy bastard. And I’ve told you, what, three times now how I feel? And you haven’t even acknowledged it much less told me you feel the same way. Not that you have to, but it would be nice to know what the hell is wrong with you.”

“There’s nothing fucking wrong with me!” he shouted, his jaw tight as he tossed down the rag. “Stop fucking blaming this on me. You know I’m a grumpy bastard. You know I’ll say what I need to say whether people like it or not, and if I had something to say to you, I’d fucking say it. So stop telling me who I am and how I feel and what I should be doing!”

Hannah gritted her teeth. If she believed in hitting people, she would have punched him. “You’re a coward.” When Cain gave her his death stare, she stared right back. “You’re a fucking coward. You’d rather sit there and act like an asshole like you did last fall—your words—than just tell me you love me or that you don’t love me and don’t feel the same way I do.”

Cain put his hands up and walked out of the kitchen, brushing past her.

Hannah followed him. “Why are you walking away?”

“Because I don’t need this shit! I thought things were going well—”

“They were!” she shouted back. “Until I told you I loved you. And then you started withdrawing and now you can’t even give me a fucking reason why!”

And then it occurred to her. She knew the reason why. He didn’t feel the same way, and there was no good way for him to tell her that. So he withdrew from her, ignored her, and then picked a fight with her, in the hopes that she would see the writing on the wall, that she would get the message he was trying to send her in his own crude way. When Cain crossed his arms over his chest again and looked away, she knew she’d hit the nail on the head.

She knew she should turn around and leave. But she didn’t. She stayed there and subjected herself to more punishment.

“Cain,” she said quietly. Cain turned to look at her again, his brown eyes a mixture of anger and guilt. “Do you love me?”

Cain sighed in exasperation. “Why are you doing this? I thought you understood me—”

“Cain,” she said again. “Answer me.”

“You’re being ridiculous—”

“Cain! Yes, or no… do you love me?”

Cain stared at her, his eyes raging with emotion. “No.”

Hannah blinked a couple of times. Some part of her knew he would say no, knew it in her soul. Yet, at that moment, hearing that word, Hannah felt like Cain had pulled out one of his guns and shot her right in the heart.

Suddenly, she felt dizzy, like she was about to fall over. And before she could say or do anything, she grabbed her purse and walked out the door, never closing it, never stopping until she was in her car and speeding away from Cain’s cabin.

Away from him.

For good.