“I hate him,” I grumble.

I sat in that damn tent for over thirty minutes and I had enough. I get he’s pissed and I’m not even saying he doesn’t have a right, but what kind of asshole leaves an injured woman alone in a tent? In hindsight, maybe I should have thought through my options a little more, but I was mad and I just wanted away. I put on my boots, and honestly, with his thick socks they don’t hurt as much as they did. I rifled through his bag and found his truck keys. He’s been such an ass it serves him right that I’m stealing his truck. Borrowing. There’s no theft. I will drive it to his house, pack my shit and then borrow it again to go to the airport. He can pick it up there.

I ignore the fact that there’s not really an airport and that essentially I’m driving to a guy named Big Kenny who is just as tall as Stone, but probably weighs over four hundred pounds and has the only plane around. I ignore it because I hate flying on small freaking planes and I’ll have to—and that’s Stone’s fault too.

“I hate him,” I repeat, and I know I’m talking to myself. It’s probably a mixture of anger and panic. It’s starting to get dark and the only light I have is a damn flashlight app on my cellphone. A cellphone which has zero signal and a dying battery. It’s barely dusk now, so I’m trying to only use the light here and there, but this damn mountain is treacherous, so I’m afraid to misstep.

“What kind of man takes his new wife on a hike up a freaking mountain for a honeymoon?” I ask the universe. “How is that even remotely romantic? What happened to five star hotels—or even a three! What happened to wine and chocolate and rose petals on the bed? I gave him my virginity, damn it! I deserve rose petals on the bed! I deserve it and I don’t even like rose petals!”

That last is yelled out in anger as I make it down the last of this damn mountain. The way I figure it, I’m at least another thirty minutes from the truck. That’s not a lot, but right now I’m completely exhausted, my feet hurt like hell and I’m hungry.

Maybe I should have tried some of that damn dried cow.

I find a rock to sit on, internally feeding my anger at Stone. If I don’t do that I’ll get sad and… I’ll cry. I can’t cry over Stone—not right now. If I do that, I may never stop. Because inside it already feels like there’s a part of me missing. That’s silly, I guess. Have I been here long enough to fall in love? I feel those tears try to gather in my eyes and I wipe them away before they have time to fall.

“I will not love you, Stone Matthews!” I vow out loud. There’s no one to hear me but myself and birds, really. But the universe needs to know it. “I won’t love you. I won’t miss you when I leave this place and I sure as hell won’t cry over you!” I growl, getting up to walk to the truck and ignoring the fact that the tears are back and they’re falling now. “Why would I cry over an asshole who accused me of lying? Okay, so I lied! But I didn’t know I was lying! That has to count! If I knew men like Stone existed, if I thought for one minute I would have found him on the freaking internet I would have written him before Tally! I would have…”

“What would you have done, Carly?”

I scream. Only not at Stone, really, who just happens to step out of the darkness, but at the fact he just scared the hell out of me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to find my bride.”

“You’ve came to the wrong place! I’m not your bride! I’m the big fat liar you left to die in the wilderness!” I mutter, and I turn away from him and keep walking in the direction of the truck. I may not like hiking, but I do happen to have an excellent memory and sense of direction.

Stone doesn’t let me get a few steps away from him and then he picks me up and slings me over his shoulder.

“What are you doing? You let me down right now, or I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping!”

“I’m carrying my bride to the truck. Then I’m taking her home.”

I think over his words, and I decide to shut up. I’m okay with him taking me home. I can leave once I get there.

“Fine, but when we get there I’m leaving!”

“No, you’re not,” he argues.

“I am! And if you try to stop me I’ll—”

“What are you going to do, Carly?”

“I’ll have you arrested for assault.”

“But I didn’t assault you, baby,” he says and I ignore the fact he used an endearment on me. He’s an asshole—an asshole who left me alone in a tent, on top of a freaking mountain.

“You did! You hurt me and I’m leaving.”

“Where did I hurt you, Carly?” he asks, carefully standing me up on the ground.

His hand comes to brush against the side of my neck and he more or less demands I look up into his eyes.

“Stone—” I start, my voice almost as raw as my heart feels.

“Where did I hurt you, baby?” he asks and it’s then I notice he’s not angry—not like before. The old Stone is back and seeing him hurts me even more, because he’s not mine and I can’t keep him. I really want to keep him.

I really do.

“My heart,” I tell him, quietly, closing my eyes. “You hurt my heart.”

He picks me up and this time cradles me to him.

“I’ll make it better,” he whispers and kisses the top of my head.

I’m scared to ask him what that means, but I don’t talk again. I’m silent all the way to the truck and then all the way to the house.

I’m afraid to talk. I’m afraid if I do, I might beg him to love me—because I’m pretty sure I already love him.