Updated Mar 21, 2026 • ~9 min read
Grant shows up on a Wednesday.
No warning. No call ahead.
Just appears at the cabin door.
Looking expensive. Out of place. Determined.
“Grant? What are you doing here?”
“Saving you from making a huge mistake.”
Of course.
He pushes past her into the cabin.
Assesses everything.
The rustic furniture. The woodstove. The complete lack of wifi.
His expression says it all.
Disbelief. Pity. Concern.
“You’ve been living like this?”
“I like it.”
“Iris. This is a cabin. In the middle of nowhere. This isn’t you.”
“How do you know what’s me?”
“I dated you for two years. I know you need coffee shops and restaurants and civilization. Not… this.”
He gestures dismissively.
Iris’s temper flares.
“Things change. People change.”
“Do they? Or are you running again?”
“I’m not running.”
“Then what do you call abandoning your life for two months?”
“Figuring things out.”
“You can figure things out in Seattle. You don’t need to hide in Montana.”
There’s that word again.
Hiding.
Everyone thinks she’s hiding.
Beck shows up an hour later.
Walks in without knocking. Like always.
Stops when he sees Grant.
“Who’s this?”
His tone is careful. Controlled.
But Iris hears the edge.
“Beck, this is Grant. My ex-boyfriend. Grant, this is Beck. My… boyfriend.”
First time she’s said it out loud.
Boyfriend.
It feels right.
Grant stands. Extends a hand.
“So you’re the mountain man.”
Beck shakes. Briefly.
“And you’re the ex who doesn’t understand boundaries.”
Grant bristles.
“I’m concerned about Iris. Someone needs to be.”
“She’s fine.”
“Living in a cabin without proper internet? That’s not fine for someone whose career depends on connectivity.”
“She manages.”
“Barely. I’ve seen her posts. Content’s dropped off. Engagement’s down. She’s throwing away everything she built.”
“That’s not your concern anymore.”
“It is when she’s making decisions based on isolation and loneliness instead of logic.”
Beck’s jaw tightens.
Iris steps between them.
“Okay. Everyone calm down. Grant, Beck is right. This isn’t your business. I’m an adult. I’m making my own choices.”
“Bad choices.”
“My choices. You need to leave.”
“Not until we talk. Properly.”
“Fine. Talk. Then leave.”
They sit awkwardly.
Grant and Iris at the table. Beck by the woodstove.
Protective. Watchful.
Ready to intervene.
“I’m worried,” Grant says. “You disappeared. Stopped answering calls. Stopped living your life. This isn’t healthy.”
“I’m healthier than I’ve been in years.”
“You look tired. You’ve lost weight. Your content is suffering.”
“My content is changing. Evolving. My followers love the new direction.”
“For now. But Montana isn’t sustainable. What happens when winter really hits? When you’re snowed in for months? When the novelty wears off?”
“It’s not novelty. It’s my life.”
“It’s his life.” Grant nods toward Beck. “You’re playing house in someone else’s world.”
The words sting.
Because there’s truth in them.
This is Beck’s world.
Not hers.
Right?
“Tell me about him,” Grant says. “Honestly. Who is he? What does he do?”
“He’s a former search-and-rescue specialist. He maintains properties. Lives simply. He’s kind and patient and—”
“Isolated. Grieving. Using you to feel less alone.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? He lost his fiancée. Hasn’t dated in five years. Then you show up. Conveniently broken and looking for escape. Of course he latched on.”
Beck stands.
“I’m going to stop you there. You don’t know me. You don’t know us. You’re making assumptions based on your own insecurity.”
“Insecurity?”
“You lost her. She moved on. You can’t handle it. So you’re trying to convince her she’s making a mistake. But the mistake was you. Not controlling. Just wrong.”
Grant’s face flushes.
“I loved her. I wanted what was best for her.”
“You wanted what was best for you. There’s a difference.”
Iris watches them face off.
Two men who loved her.
One who tried to shape her.
One who lets her be.
The difference is stark.
“Iris,” Grant says. “Come back to Seattle. For a visit. Get some perspective. Then decide. Don’t let isolation and a rebound relationship make your decisions.”
“It’s not a rebound.”
“How do you know? You’ve been here two months. That’s not enough time to change your entire life.”
He’s not wrong.
Two months isn’t long.
But it feels like longer.
Feels like everything.
“I’m not making decisions yet,” she says carefully. “I’m living day by day. Figuring things out.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes.”
Grant sighs.
Stands.
“Fine. But when you’re ready to come home—and you will be—call me. I’ll help you rebuild what you’re throwing away.”
He leaves.
Finally.
And Iris sits in the silence.
Unsettled.
Beck doesn’t speak.
Just stands by the window.
Watching Grant’s car disappear.
“Say something,” Iris prompts.
“Is he right?”
“About what?”
“Am I using you? To feel less alone?”
“No. Beck, no. He’s wrong.”
“Is he? I latched onto you pretty fast. Maybe because you were convenient. Available. Also running from something.”
“That’s not why you care about me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you. You don’t do things halfway. You care because you care. Not because you’re lonely.”
“And you? Are you here because of me? Or because you’re running from Seattle?”
The question hurts.
Because she doesn’t have a clear answer.
“Both, maybe? I came to escape. But I stayed because of you. Because I’m happy here. Because this feels right.”
“Does it? Or does it feel easy?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Easy is temporary. Right is forever.”
Forever.
The word looms.
They’ve never talked about forever.
Just now. Day by day.
“I don’t know if this is forever,” Iris admits. “I can’t promise that. But it’s real. What we have. That’s not fake. Not convenient. Real.”
Beck nods.
But he looks unconvinced.
That night, he doesn’t stay.
Says he needs space to think.
Iris doesn’t argue.
But she feels the distance.
Grant’s words burrowing in.
Creating doubt where there was certainty.
She hates him for it.
Hates that he might be right.
What if she is running?
What if this is rebound?
What if she’s using Beck to avoid dealing with her real life?
The questions spiral.
She can’t stop them.
She calls Skye.
“Grant showed up.”
“WHAT. Why?”
“To save me from myself. Apparently I’m making a huge mistake.”
“By falling in love with a hot mountain man? Yeah, terrible decision.”
“He said I’m running. That it’s not real. That I’m throwing my life away.”
“Do you think that’s true?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? I did come here to escape. And Beck and I moved fast. Really fast.”
“So? Fast doesn’t mean wrong.”
“Doesn’t mean right either.”
“Iris. Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“Does he make you happy?”
“Incredibly.”
“Do you want to leave Montana?”
That question stops her.
Does she?
“No. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
“Then Grant’s wrong. You’re not running. You’re living. There’s a difference.”
“How do I know for sure?”
“You don’t. Nobody does. That’s the point of relationships. You jump. You hope. You figure it out as you go.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“Of course it is. Love is terrifying. But it’s also the best thing there is.”
Skye’s right.
She usually is.
Iris texts Beck: Can we talk?
No response.
She tries again an hour later: Please. I need to see you.
Finally: Tomorrow. I need tonight to process.
Fair.
But it hurts.
She’s never seen Beck doubt them before.
Grant did this.
Planted seeds of insecurity.
And now they’re growing.
She spends the night reading Margaret’s journals.
Looking for answers.
Finds this entry:
Year two in Montana. Susan called today. Said I’m wasting my life. That I should come home, apologize, marry Richard like I was supposed to. She doesn’t understand. This isn’t wasting. This is finding. Finding who I am without expectations. Without performance. Without the constant pressure to be someone I’m not. I’m not running from life. I’m running toward it. The life I actually want. Not the one they designed for me.
Iris cries reading it.
Because Margaret faced this too.
The accusation of running.
The pressure to return.
The doubt.
But she stayed.
Trusted herself.
Built the life she wanted.
Can Iris do the same?
Morning.
Beck shows up.
Looks like he didn’t sleep.
Iris definitely didn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he says immediately.
“For what?”
“For doubting us. For letting him get in my head. For making you question what we have.”
“You’re allowed to have doubts.”
“But I don’t. That’s the thing. Last night, thinking about it, I realized Grant’s wrong. This isn’t rebound. It’s not convenience. It’s real. More real than anything I’ve felt since Anna.”
“Beck—”
“Let me finish. I love you. Not because I’m lonely. Not because you’re available. But because you’re you. Stubborn and brave and learning to chop wood even though you hate it. Because you make me laugh. Because you see me. The real me. Not the grieving widower. Just me.”
Iris is crying.
“I love you too. And I’m not running. I’m choosing. Choosing you. Choosing this. Choosing Montana. Maybe not forever. But for now. And that’s real.”
“That’s enough.”
He kisses her.
And the doubt melts.
Not completely. Never completely.
But enough.
Later, wrapped together on the couch, Iris thinks about Grant.
About his certainty that she’s making a mistake.
Maybe she is.
But maybe mistakes are necessary.
To learn. To grow. To become who you’re meant to be.
She’d rather make mistakes living than play it safe hiding.
And that’s the real difference.
Grant wanted her safe. Controlled. Predictable.
Beck wants her happy. Free. Herself.
Even if that’s messy.
Even if it’s uncertain.
Even if it scares them both.
That’s love.
Real love.
Not performance.
And it’s worth fighting for.
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