Lucian tapers off and slumps back in his chair, like he’s been zapped of all his energy. I feel like I’m seeing beneath his mask for the first time. Behind the grumpiness and the gruff words. I can’t help myself. I get up from my chair, round the table, and throw my arms around him tight. He smells of pine and wood smoke, and I bury my face against his shoulder, breathing him in.
“Thank you for telling me all that,” I say, my voice muffled against him. “I know it wasn’t easy, and I’m so sorry you had to go through it.”
He’s still sitting down, seemingly too shocked to move for a moment, but then I feel a strong arm around my shoulders, a hand rubbing my back.
“Thank you.” His voice is a deep rumble in my ear, sad but strong. “This is the first time I’ve talked about it. Feels better than I thought it would.”
We stay locked in our embrace for a long time. Silence falls between us, each of us lost in thought. I’m still processing everything Lucian told me. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I lost Mila, but I know it would be like my whole world had suddenly ended. It hurts my heart to think that Lucian has been carrying around that much pain for twelve years. He must be so lonely without his twin—his missing piece. The thought makes me hug him even tighter.
When we finally break apart, Lucian looks calmer than before, like a clenched fist that’s been unfurled. I sit back down opposite him, and he takes my hand across the table, the warmth of his touch making my skin tingle.
“I’d love to hear more about your brother,” I tell him softly. “If it’s not too painful.”
Somehow, it doesn’t feel right to hear about Dominic’s death without also hearing about his life—who he was.
“He was nothing like me,” Lucian says. “I’ve always been an antisocial grump. But Dominic was the opposite. Hell, I guess he was kind of like you.”
I blink at him. “Like me?”
“Yeah. He was an optimist. Always looked on the bright side, saw the best in people. But most of all, he was kind. Had a good heart. Like you.”
Lucian says it so matter-of-factly that I feel my cheeks warm. But I can’t help challenging him. “You’re kind, too. I’m only sitting here right now because of your kindness. You saved my life, remember?” Lucian looks unconvinced, but I persevere. “Without your kindness, I’d be freezing my butt off in Holden’s cabin right now, or walking through the rain to get here. Being kind isn’t just sunshine and rainbows and smiles all the time. Real kindness runs deeper than that.”
“You trying to say I’m not sunshine and rainbows and smiles?” Lucian asks, his brow furrowing into a comically deep scowl. I can’t help giggling.
“I’m just saying that there are lots of different ways to be kind…and honestly, I think you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”
Lucian looks at me for a long time, piercing me with his stormy gray eyes.
“I don’t know about that,” he says eventually. “But I’m glad you think so.”
“I really do.”
He’s still holding my hand across the table, his thumb moving in circles against my skin. Something has shifted between us. I can feel it. We’ve opened up to each other, laid ourselves bare, and now everything feels different. But there’s still something holding Lucian back. Something that forces his gaze away every time he looks at me. Whatever it is seems to hit him all at once, and he suddenly pulls his hand from mine.
“I’d better show you to the guest room,” he says, already standing up.
The clock on the wall says it’s barely ten, but I don’t argue. I pet Midnight to say goodnight while Lucian grabs my bag, then I follow him through a wooden corridor and into the guest bedroom. It’s spacious but sparse, with only a bed and a closet.But it’s still rustically charming, made from the same dark wood as the rest of the cabin.
“Sorry it’s so empty,” Lucian says. “It’s never used.”
“I don’t mind; it’s still cozy.”
He sets my bag down, and I thank him for carrying it. Then silence falls between us, stretching on for a beat too long as we stand together by the bed. The air is thick with tension. It pulses around us like a living thing, making it hard to breathe.
Me. Lucian. A double bed.
I look up at him, his huge frame dwarfing mine, a smattering of chest hair visible beneath the open buttons of his flannel shirt. He looks more handsome than ever. Every inch of me is desperate to be in his arms. To be close to him, touch him, feel him. It felt so natural to hug him earlier. He was completely unguarded for the first time since I met him, but now his walls have risen up again. They might not be as high as before—there’s no taking back the way he opened up to me—but they still feel as solid and unmovable as mountains.
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” Lucian says, finally breaking the silence.
He heads out the door, then pauses on the threshold, turning back to me. Our eyes meet, gray and green, and for a moment, it looks like Lucian is about to say something. His lips part beneath his beard, then close again. I see his fingers tighten against the door, like he’s preparing to tear it off its hinges. It feels like something is raging inside him, some internal battle that I don’t understand. But eventually, he breaks our gaze, scowling at the ground.
“Goodnight, Grace,” he says gruffly.
“Goodnight, Lucian.”
Then he leaves, shutting the door and taking a piece of my heart with him.
