Chapter 11 Elena
Elena
Two weeks of living in the cottage, and I’m finally starting to feel like I can breathe again.
The morning air is crisp against my face as I lace up my hiking boots on the cottage’s front steps, dew clinging to the grass and the ivy.
I’ve been eyeing the trail system that winds through the estate for days, catching glimpses of it from my bedroom window, but work calls and the lingering awkwardness with Harry have kept me inside.
Not today, though. Today, I need to move, need to get out of my head and into the woods where the only thing that matters is putting one foot in front of the other.
I shoulder my small backpack, just a water bottle and a granola bar inside, and set off into the grass.
The main house looms behind me, its windows dark except for what I assume is Harry’s study on the ground floor.
He’s probably already buried in Switzerland hotel plans or Croatia updates.
Matthew’s been gone for over two weeks now, with next to no updates on finding George, and Harry’s been increasingly tense, spending longer and longer locked away with his work and avoiding me like the plague.
Which is fine. The less I see of him, the less I have to pretend like that argument in my bedroom didn’t end with me taking the coldest shower of my life before I sank into the bath.
The trailhead sits at the edge of the manicured gardens, marked by a simple wooden sign that reads Highcourt Nature Reserve - Private Property.
Beyond it, the forest opens up like something out of a storybook.
Ancient oaks and maples create a cathedral of greenery overhead, dappled sunlight filtering through leaves that rustle every time the wind blows.
I follow the main path deeper into the woods, my boots crunching softly on the freshly fallen leaves and pine needles, easy signs pointing to the start of fall.
The air smells of earth and moss and life, so different from the perpetual stale air of event spaces and wine tastings.
Here, at least, I can finally hear myself think.
Or try to, anyway.
My thoughts, annoyingly, keep circling back to Harry, to the way he’d looked at me in my bedroom doorway, to the careful distance he’s maintained since.
We pass each other in the larger kitchen sometimes, when I need to grab something or when a chef makes dinner and I’m too lazy to make something for myself, just polite nods or a brief hello, but it’s like we’re both walking on eggshells, afraid to disturb whatever fragile peace we seem to have established.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear the approaching footsteps until they’re right behind me.
“Elena.”
I spin around, my hand flying to my chest. Harry stands on the trail behind me, slightly out of breath like he’s been jogging, wearing a pair of casual, dark jeans and a charcoal grey henley that unfortunately makes my pulse skitter.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “You scared the shit out of me.”
His jaw is tight, his brows glued together. “You can’t hike alone out here. Especially this early.”
I blink at him. Another order. “Excuse me?”
“Black bears,” he says, like that explains everything. “They roam through here regularly. It’s the start of fall, too, so they’ll be more aggressive, preparing for winter. It’s not safe.”
My mouth opens, then closes, searching for the right words. “So you… what? Saw me leaving and followed me out here? Were you watching me?”
Something flickers across his face — guilt, maybe, or embarrassment. “I got a notification from one of the trail cameras. Saw you walking in the reserve alone. Sprinted, actually, not followed.”
My eyes go wide. “You’ve got cameras out here?” The words come out sharper than I intended. “Are you monitoring my every fucking move?”
“No, it’s for security—”
“Bullshit.” I turn and start walking again, deeper into the woods, faster this time. “It’s for control. Don’t lie to me.”
His longer stride catches up to me far too easily. “Elena. I’m being serious about the bears.”
“And I’m being serious about my privacy.” I don’t slow down, don’t bother looking over at him. “I’m thirty years old, Harry. I think I can handle a nature walk without a chaperone.”
“Not when that nature walk could get you mauled.”
Despite my irritation, there’s something in his tone that makes me glance at him — real concern, not just the controlling behavior I’d assumed. “Have you genuinely seen bears out here?”
His hand reaches around to the backside of his body, not facing me, fiddling with something, and when it reappears, I nearly launch myself into the bushes.
He’s holding a fucking gun.
“Three times in the past month,” he says, shaking the handgun as if to exaggerate his point. “Once, a mother with cubs, which makes them a million times more dangerous.”
“Oh my god, Harry, put the gun away—”
“Do you think I would’ve chased you down out here with this without a good reason?” he adds, slipping it back into what I now realize is a holster. “I know you think I’m being domineering, but this isn’t about watching you. It’s about keeping you alive.”
“Fine,” I mutter, raising my hands in mock surrender. “I get the message. I’ll be careful.”
“Why do you say that like you’re two seconds from running off in a random direction? Do you think I won’t follow you?”
I roll my eyes. “Because I’d rather you didn’t join me for my walk.”
“If you’re insisting on walking through dangerous woodland, then I kind of have to,” he grunts, pushing his hair back from his face. It’s not even styled — too early, I assume, for him to have gotten that far in whatever routine he has.
“You really don’t.”
“These are my woods, Elena. I know where the bears den, which trails to avoid. If you’re determined to hike, then I’m determined to make sure you come back in one piece, not trailing your intestines along the dirt.”
“I can handle myself,” I hit back.
“Oh?” The sarcasm in that single syllable makes my teeth ache from clenching down. “Please, tell me, how do you intend to defend yourself against a bear? Do you have a gun in that fanny pack?”
I huff my annoyance. “No, I have a granola bar, which I’m sure could buy me a few seconds if I threw it enticingly.”
He stops dead in his tracks, pinching the bridge of his nose like I’ve exhausted him by just existing. “Please don’t tell me you’re serious.”
I unzip the bag and hold the granola bar up for emphasis.
“Dear god,” he murmurs, slowly starting to walk again. “For the record, a bear would absolutely prefer fresh meat to a fucking granola bar.”
I want to argue, want to tell him I don’t need his protection, but the truth is that the forest feels different with him here. Safer, I guess, but also more charged, like the air itself is holding its breath.
We walk in tense silence for a few minutes, the trail winding deeper into the reserve.
The woods are gorgeous, towering trees that must be centuries old, clearing where wildflowers bloom in defiance of the season's cusp. It’s the kind of place that makes it seem obvious why people used to worship in the woods instead of churches.
“How much land is this?” I ask, breathing the unbearable silence just to let myself breathe in it.
“Fifteen thousand acres.” He steps over a fallen log, his hand outstretched in offering to help me over it, but I ignore him. “It’s been in the family for four generations.”
“And you just… leave it wild?” I ask, raising a brow at him.
“Mostly,” he says, glancing at me. “There are a few structures scattered throughout. A few maintenance buildings, observation posts, things like that.”
We round a bend in the trail, and I stop, blinking at the sight in front of me.
Nestled in a clearing beside a crystal clear stream, what can only be described as a luxury camping retreat sits undisturbed and empty.
Canvas tents on raised wooden platforms, connected by boardwalks, furnished with what looks like actual furniture.
There’s a central fire pit surrounded by Adirondack chairs, and even from here, I can see solar panels gleaming on the roof of what must be a shower and bathroom facility.
“What the hell is that?” I ask.
Harry’s hands slide into his pockets, and for the first time since he caught up with me, he looks almost… embarrassed? Sheepish? “Glamping site. We built it around five years ago.”
“We?”
“The foundation. Highcourt Environmental Preservation.” He walks toward the camp, and I follow, studying every single thing I can see like it might disappear if I blink.
“The idea was to offer eco-luxury experiences to raise money for conservation efforts. Let city people experience nature without having to actually rough it.”
I step onto one of the boardwalks, running my hand along the polished wood railing. Everything is expertly crafted, expensive, and obviously entirely unused. “But…?”
“But the board decided it was too remote, too hard to market.” He shrugs. “It’s been sitting empty since we built it, but I’ve slept out here a handful of times.”
I turn to stare at him. “You built this entire thing and just abandoned it?”
“We maintain it,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “In case we ever decide to try again.”
“That’s…” I shake my head, trying to process what I’m seeing, what I want to say. “Do you realize how insane this is? In a good way, I mean. So many people would kill for an experience like this.”
His expression shifts, his brows raising, something almost vulnerable flickering across his face. “You like it?”
“Like it? Harry, this is amazing.” I walk to the edge of the platform and look out over the stream, the sunlight dancing on the water, the birds flitting between the trees. “You could host corporate retreats, wellness weekends, romantic getaways — the potential is endless.”
“Yeah, well, the board thought—”