Chapter 5 - Lyla

I move quickly on instinct when I see the blood, kneeling in front of Russell before I can second-guess the impulse. Now I'm hyper-aware of how close our bodies are, his large hand cradled in my smaller one as I tend to the minor cut.

My heart races, and I start tapping my foot rapidly against the floor.

"How the hell did you manage to do this?" I demand, nodding at the injury.

Russell shrugs one broad shoulder. "Got distracted, I guess."

"Distracted by what?" I press, arching an inquisitive brow.

He averts his gaze, almost seeming bashful.

"I'm not used to having company around, is all. It throws me off my game."

I can't help but smirk at that admission. "Do I make you nervous or something?"

Russell's eyes snap back to mine, and he gulps audibly.

"It ain't like that," he says gruffly. "I just...don't like having people in my space much, that's all."

Finished cleaning and bandaging his finger, I lean back with a humorless chuckle.

"Well, if the way you treat people trying to help you is any indication, I can see why they wouldn't want to be around you either."

His brows draw together in a glower at my blunt words, "That's not...I didn't mean..."

But I just shake my head, rising to my feet as I cut off his flustered protests.

"Save it. I get the message loud and clear - you're a lone wolf who doesn't play well with others. Noted."

Brushing past him brusquely, I hurry into the cramped bedroom, shutting the door behind me with perhaps more force than necessary. Taking a seat on the sagging mattress, I huff out an irritated breath, glaring at the closed door.

Maybe I am better off alone in the woods after all. At least then, I won't have to deal with Russell's hot-and-cold attitude, which switches from playful one second to gruff bastard the next.

Stretching out my arms and legs, I try to force the tension from my muscles with a few deep, calming breaths. This weird, volatile energy between us is quickly becoming too much.

One minute he acts almost...approachable, only to shove me away again the next.

A sharp knock at the door makes me jump.

"Can I come in?" Russell's gruff voice comes through the wood.

"It's your house," I shoot back, feisty again. "Feel free to enter whenever."

The door swings open, and he steps inside, "Look, I'm...sorry about that. The way I spoke to you. It's just..." His jaw tightens before he continues in a low rumble, "I haven't had to talk with anyone in a long time. Hell, I barely recognize the sound of my own voice most days."

He runs one hard-working hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh.

"We should probably head back to the kitchen. Get some food into us before it gets any later."

I give a curt nod of acknowledgment, refusing to make this easier by immediately giving in. He wants to try playing the surly hermit again?

Two can play that game.

Pushing myself off the creaky mattress, I brush past him towards the door without a backward glance.

"Fine by me. You're the one who invited me to stay longer, remember?"

As I stalk past him out of the bedroom, Russell lets out a low grumble.

"That's not exactly how I remember it going down."

I whirl around to face him, hands on my hips. "Oh? Then please, enlighten me on the finer details."

He opens his mouth, then closes it with a scowl, seeming to think better of whatever sharp retort he was about to dish out.

"You know what? Never mind. Let's just eat."

"Gladly," I say coolly, turning around and heading back towards the kitchen area.

Upon re-entering the kitchen, the sizzle and savory smells of whatever simple meal Russell had started greet us. For a long stretch, we work in silence—him finishing the cooking, me setting the battered table with some chipped plates and utensils I can find.

Finally, two heaping portions dished up, Russell breaks the quiet tension.

"Here, eat up." He slides one of the plates towards me as he takes a seat.

I eye the bland-looking mystery meal dubiously. "What is it?"

"Survivalist cuisine," he grunts, grabbing a mouthful. “You'd better get used to it if you want to make it out here."

Rolling my eyes, I take a begrudging bite, chewing slowly. It's...not entirely terrible, I suppose. Simple, but filling in a satisfying way. We lapse back into silence as we eat, the occasional clank of utensils on plates the only sound.

Eventually, I can't take the oppressive quiet anymore.

"You know, for someone who claims to be such a tough outdoorsman, you've got awfully thin skin."

Russell pauses mid-chew, "That so?"

"Oh yeah," I confirm, holding his gaze boldly. "All I did was point out your charming people skills, and you got all huffy. So much for being a grizzled, grumpy man." I add sarcastically.

His eyes narrow to slits, but he doesn't rise to my needling bait. Damn, if the man isn't at least consistent in his stubborn refusal to engage. Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way.

I lean back in my chair, studying him appraisingly, "You really don't get lonely out here all by yourself?"

Russell shrugs one broad shoulder.

"Got used to it, I guess."

"How long have you been living like this?" I ask, unable to hide my disbelief.

He pauses, brow furrowing slightly as he seems to calculate.

"More than five years, probably. I'm not really sure."

My jaw drops at his admission, "Wait, you're saying you seriously haven't talked to another human being in over five years?"

"I talk to people," he counters gruffly. "You know, idiots like you who get lost wandering through the woods they shouldn't be in."

I huff out an exasperated breath, "Alright, fair point. What I did was stupid, and I get that now."

To my surprise, instead of just leaving it at that, Russell leans back as well, eyeing me with newfound curiosity.

"Why'd you move out here to Sweetheart Falls anyway? You probably had more opportunities in any other place."

I blink, momentarily thrown by his interest.

"I love living in a small town, and although things didn’t work out in Pine Valley, I enjoyed living there. I’m not a city girl, to be honest. So, I happily took this new job opportunity."

He grunts in acknowledgment, seemingly waiting for me to continue. When I don't elaborate further, he prods, "But then you got fired from this job, right?"

Frowning, I nod slowly, "Yeah, about two months in. Apparently, I 'didn't have the right temperament' for the role." I shake my head ruefully. "Which is just corporate code for 'she didn't put up with our BS.'"

"Huh." Russell studies me appraisingly. "Can't see you as the type to just roll over and take crap from nobody."

I can't help but crack a wry grin at that.

"You've got that right. I'm not really one for suffering fools lightly."

The hint of a smirk also tugs at the corner of his whiskered mouth.

"Then I guess we've got that much in common, at least."

I shoot him a sly look.

"So, will you finally spill the story on why you're out here, living like a rugged mountain hermit?"

Russell seems to consider for a few moments before shaking his head, "Not much to tell. I put all that in the past where it belongs." He then redirects the conversation. "Does this food taste alright to you? It's not too bad for survivalist grub, I'd hope."

I frown slightly, disappointed he deflected my probing question yet again. Why does this handsome loner have to be so stubbornly closed off?

"It's fine, I guess," I reply, trying not to let my piqued curiosity show. "Not exactly gourmet, but it'll do in a pinch."

He gives a grunt of acknowledgment before taking another bite, seemingly content to let the subject drop for now. I stifle a sigh, resigning myself to work harder if I want to crack through his gruff outer shell.

For some inexplicable reason, I am somewhat determined to unravel the mysteries surrounding this surly mountain man. I just can't shake the feeling there's more to Russell than meets the eye.