I woke to the peaceful silence that only exists in the mountains at dawn. That thin, silvery quiet before birds remember to sing and the sun wakes up. My cheek rested on Harlan’s chest, my fingers spread out over his heart like I’d anchored myself there sometime in the night. His pulse thudded slow and steady under my palm. His hand was an anchor at my hip, protective even in sleep.
For a minute, I watched him.
He looked younger like this. Less like granite, more like a real man. The hard line between his brows had smoothed out overnight and he wasn’t scowling for a change. In sleep, he wasn’t barking orders. He wasn’t The Warden. He was just Harlan. Warm, solid, and mine, at least for the moment. It was a wish I thought I’d wasted on a million shooting stars, but it drifted through my head anyway and I wasn’t ready to push it away quite yet.
Outside, the wind stirred, and the tent fabric rustled. Somewhere beyond the ridge, the sun breeched the edge of dawn. I breathed him in, all the smoke and pine and everything else that was unique to him and let the smallest smile tug at the edges of my mouth.
His chest rose under my cheek as he woke up. The hand at my hip flexed once, then went still like he realized where it was and didn’t trust himself to move. I tilted my head to look up at him. His eyes opened, dark and groggy, finding me like he wasn’t surprised at all. Like maybe he’d been waking up to me in his head for a long time.
“Good morning,” I whispered.
“Morning,” he said, his voice rough enough to sand wood.
We stared at each other like idiots. I didn’t know what I expected… maybe confetti and fireworks…but the thing that landed instead was better. The peace between us was quiet and real. He dragged his thumb over my hip, the way a man might do when he’s decided a woman belongs to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded. There was nowhere else I’d rather be. “I’m good.”
The line between his brows started to form again. “How about your leg?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Bruised my ego more than anything else.”
“The hatchet was a bad idea.”
“You loved bandaging me up,” I said, and the heat in his eyes told me I wasn’t wrong.
Silence descended again, but it wasn’t heavy. At least not yet. I wanted to keep it that way, to pretend the world wouldn’t push through the tent flap and climb in with us, but life in Hard Timber had never bowed to my wishes.
He cleared his throat and looked past me, at the seam where the tent door met the floor. The hand at my hip slid away. There it was… the first sign of retreat.
I forced lightness into my voice. “So. Coffee?”
He blinked like I’d offered him a life preserver. “I’ll show you how to make it. We can filter water from the creek.”
“Does that mean you’ll do it, and I’ll watch?”
His eyes met mine, and for a flash I saw all the things he wasn’t saying, like I don’t want to watch you get hurt. I don’t know how to not take over. I don’t know how to want you and also do the right thing.
“Teach me,” I whispered. “Don’t just…take over. Really show me how to do it.”
He held my gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”
We got dressed, moving around each other awkwardly in the small space. Outside, the cool morning breeze nipped at my cheeks. Harlan moved around the fire pit with that efficient competence that used to make me roll my eyes. Now it felt intimate and romantic. He was in his element, and I felt like I was getting a rare insider’s glimpse at the real him.
He twined his fingers with mine on the short walk down to the creek. The icy water rushed over my hand as I dipped the bottle in to fill it up. Harlan showed me how to seat the filter and made me do it again until I didn’t cross-thread the cap. Back at the campsite, he watched me grind coffee with a hand-crank mill and even kept his hands behind his back while I lit the stove. I fumbled once with the igniter, and he didn’t try to take over.
When the coffee was finally ready, he held out a mug, and our fingers brushed. Heat fired between us all over again. Our eyes snagged, and we both looked away at the same time and laughed. It had been years since I’d heard his laugh, and I wanted to catch the sound in a jar so I could hold onto it forever.
We ate oatmeal that tasted like damp cardboard and pretended it was gourmet. He cleaned and re-wrapped my shin, his hands gentle, while he muttered about using a proper swing and stance next time. I took mental notes I might actually use someday. It would have been a perfect day if we could have ignored the tension mounting between us as the hours passed.
He was the one to bring it up.
“Your brothers are gonna kill me if they find out.” It came out flat and emotionless, like he’d been mulling it over for hours.
I didn’t pretend I didn’t know what he meant. “Then maybe don’t tell them we were practicing fire building.”
He cut me a look. “Jessa.”
