I thought about my own cages, all the parts of myself I'd locked away to survive. The girl who'd loved reading. The one who'd believed in happy endings. The one who'd trusted adults to protect her.
"Maybe cages aren't the answer," I said.
"Maybe not," he agreed, and started walking again.
The trees began to thin as we climbed higher, the trail switching back and forth across the face of the mountain. Mylegs burned and my lungs ached, but it was good pain. Clean pain. The kind that came from pushing yourself instead of being pushed.
When the trail opened suddenly to a vista that stretched forever, I actually gasped. The blue valley dropped away beneath us like the earth had forgotten to stop. Mountains rolled into the distance, each ridge a different shade of blue and purple, like a painting that couldn't possibly be real.
"Oh," I breathed, and felt tears prick my eyes for no reason I could name.
The wind lifted my hair from my face, gentle as a blessing, and for the first time in years, I felt like I could actually breathe.
"Thank you," I said, not sure if I was talking to Dmitry or the mountain or the universe that had somehow led me here.
"We're not at the top yet," he said, but his voice was soft, understanding that this moment was about more than altitude.
"Doesn't matter," I said, and meant it. Because right here, right now, with the wind blessing my face and Dmitry's warmth at my back and the whole world spread out below us, I felt something I'd thought I'd lost forever.
I felt free.
Nearthesummitspur,the trail got crowded with day hikers taking selfies and families making noise about the view. Dmitry touched my elbow, just barely, and nodded toward a faint side path I wouldn't have noticed on my own, screened by mountain laurel and marked only by a small cairn of stacked stones.
We pushed through the laurel, branches catching at our clothes, until we emerged onto a rock shelf that must have been warming in the sun for the past hour. It was perfect—privatebut not isolated, beautiful but not distracting, warm stone surrounded by wind-twisted pines that created natural walls.
I knew what I wanted. Had known since the kiss last yesterday.
I bumped his shoulder, deliberately clumsy. "Oops."
He looked down at me, one eyebrow raised, knowing exactly what I was doing. So I planted myself against him, my body lined up with his, and looked directly at his mouth so there could be no mistaking my intention.
“What a terrible accident,” I said, my voice barely loud enough for him to hear.
"Eva," he started, but I didn't let him finish.
I kissed him. Not like the vodka-fueled kiss from before, all desperation and confusion. This was deliberate, chosen, me claiming something I wanted instead of accepting what was given. His mouth was warm and tasted like the coffee he'd drunk on the drive, and for a moment he was perfectly still, letting me lead.
Then he kissed me back, and it was nothing like before.
His hand came up to cup the side of my neck, thumb resting against my pulse point like he was measuring my heartbeat. The kiss deepened, harder and more passionate than anything we'd shared, but still controlled. Still him, even in this.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine.
"You're in charge of the pace," he said, voice rough. "Use your words. Tell me what you want."
Instead of answering with words, I kissed him again—slower this time, searching, testing whether the frost-glass man would melt under enough heat. He did, but on his terms. The hand on my neck stayed gentle even as the kiss turned hungry. His other hand braced against the rock face behind me, keeping hisbody from caging mine even as I pressed closer, wanting more contact.
He pulled back just enough to shrug out of his jacket, spreading it on the sun-warmed rock. The gesture was so careful, so considerate, that it made my chest ache. He was making me a soft place in all this hardness, just like he'd been doing since the day he'd brought me home.
"Sit," he said, and I did, watching as he positioned himself between me and the trail. Privacy handled like a security detail, protecting me even from the possibility of strangers' eyes.
When I arched into him, seeking more contact, he stilled completely.
"More," I breathed into his mouth, the word he'd asked for.
His response was to warm my hands between his, rubbing them gently until the mountain cold was gone. Then he found the hair tie on my wrist, gathering my hair back from my face with movements that were tender and practiced. He checked with murmurs and glances, making sure each touch was wanted, each escalation welcomed.
"You don't have to be so careful," I said, though part of me loved that he was.
