Then I remember how to breathe.
Smokey squirms in my arms, and I crouch to set him down. My hands are unsteady, and it has nothing to do with the cold.
Holt Weston is standing in my cabin.
Of course, he had to be the one to find me.
Of course, the universe couldn’t resist that little joke.
The last time I saw him, I swore that would be it. If fate ever put me in front of him again, I’d walk the other way.
But here he is—all big-shouldered, dark eyes burning into mine, like the last five years never happened.
Firelight shivers along the walls, pulling up old memories I thought I’d buried for good.
I tell myself to move, to speak, to do literally anything except stand there like someone unplugged my brain. Instead, I listen to the crackle and snap of the fire.
He still hasn’t said a word.
Typical.
He never needed many. One look from him used to take me apart, and apparently nothing’s changed.
I turn away first, pick up a poker and fuss at the fire. The dogs twitch in their sleep, the cat curls tighter on the rug. Ordinary life—and none of it feels real with him standing there.
“What brought you back here, Lila?”
The question is so sudden, so direct after the quiet that I flinch. The poker clatters against the grate.
I straighten, dust my hands on my jeans. “Pet-sitting.”
“For Heather.”
“Right. She and her family are in Florida for the holidays. You know her?”
He shrugs. “Pretty much my nearest neighbor.”
He studies me for a long moment, like he’s hearing everything I’m not saying—that I didn’t have anywhere else to be, that coming back here wasn’t part of the plan.
“Lucky she kept in touch with you,” he says quietly.
It’s such a simple sentence, but the weight of it lands right in my chest.
“I guess.” I glance around the chaos in the cabin—the shedding dogs, the heap of muddy boots, the old blankets piled on the sofa. “Guess I was overdue for some excitement.”
A faint smile tugs at his mouth. “Would look better with some Christmas decorations up.”
I snort. “Never been one for Christmas, really. You know my parents.”
A shadow crosses his face. “Too busy fighting?”
“Yup.”
And now?”
“Dad died of a heart attack. Mom remarried. She and her new husband have gone away for the holidays.”
“I’m sorry, Lila.”
