"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I've got."
Her fingers curl into my shirt. "Red?"
"Yeah."
"I think you're scared."
The words hit like a sniper round—accurate, devastating, true.
I level my gaze at her. "Maybe I am."
"Of what?"
Of this. Of you. Of wanting something I can't keep.
Instead of answering, I pull her closer. Not all the way—just enough that there's no space left between us, just desire and the thundering of two hearts that have forgotten how to behave.
Her hand slides up my chest to my shoulder, and I feel her trembling. Or maybe that's me.
"Red…" My name is half plea, half question.
I answer by closing the distance, my forehead resting against hers, my nose brushing hers. God, her breath on my lips, the smell of vanilla and sugar, the softness of her body against mine.
One more inch. That's all it would take.
But I don't move.
Because if I kiss her now, in my bed, in the darkness, with her wearing my sweater and looking at me like I'm not broken—I won't stop. I'll want more. I'll want everything. And when she leaves, she'll take pieces of me I can't afford to lose.
"This isn't a good idea," I repeat, but the words are fucking useless.
"Probably the worst," she agrees, but her hand is on my jaw now, her thumb brushing over my beard.
The storm howls outside, but here in this bed, we hover on the edge of something that will change everything.
My hand tightens on her waist.
Her breath catches.
"Red…"
"I know."
But I don't pull away. And neither does she.
We stay like that—suspended in the moment, in the space between want and fear, in the fragile territory where two broken people find something that might be worth the risk.
My heart pounds so hard I'm certain she can feel it, hammering against my ribs like it's trying to reach her. Every instinct screams at me to retreat, to rebuild the walls she's somehow slipped through. Yet I remain frozen, terrified of what will happen if I move—either toward her or away.The fire spits and hisses, a log shifting with a crack that sounds like a gunshot in the silence. She startles slightly, her breath catching, but our eyes lock and something passes between us—something neither of us is ready to name but can't deny exists.
But we don't let go.
Chapter Seven
COOKIE
DAY 5 ~ DECEMBER 28
