“But you got in anyway.” His hand finds mine, fingers lacing together. “You knocked on my door in that ridiculous outfit and got in, and now I’m lying here terrified because I don’t know how to do this. How to care about someone and not screw it up. How to let you leave without losing my mind.”
I squeeze his hand. “You’re not going to screw this up.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.” I lean down and press my forehead to his. “I know you gave me your bed and slept in a chair because you didn’t want to make me uncomfortable. I know you fed me and kept me warm and let me into your space even though every instinct told you to push me away.”
“Sasha—”
“I know you, Red. And you’re not going to screw this up because you care too much. That’s not a weakness—it’s the best thing about you.”
His jaw clenches, his eyes shining. He pulls me down into a kiss that tastes like gratitude and fear and something like hope.
When we break apart, he tucks me against his chest with his arms wrapped tight like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“Thank you,” he whispers into my hair.
“For what?”
“For not giving up on me.”
He melts me. My own little Christmas miracle. Well, a big, grizzly Christmas miracle, anyway.
Who knew someone so grumpy could be so soft on the inside?
I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “Never.”
Outside, the storm starts to ease.
But inside, wrapped in each other’s arms, we don’t talk about what happens when it stops. Not yet.
For now, this is enough.
Chapter Ten
RED
DAY 7 ~ DECEMBER 30
Sasha’s still asleep, one hand resting on my chest. I should've gotten up—made some coffee, chopped firewood, done something productive. I stayed. Somehow, I can’t tear myself away from her and the addictive way she makes me feel.
Morning light steams in through the window. The storm passed sometime during the night. I watched it happen while she slept—the wind dying, the snow fading away to nothing, the silence settling over the mountain.
It’s time for her to leave, but I can’t think of that yet. I can’t.
“Mm, you’re so warm,” she mumbles, burrowing closer to me.
“So now you’re stealing my heat?” I eye her playfully.
She smiles without opening her eyes. “You’re like a furnace.”
I laugh, shaking my head. I’ve never been called that before.
Her eyes open, hazel and sleepy, focusing on my face. “You’re staring at me.”
I don’t deny it; Iamstaring because she’s fucking beautiful.
“Are you having regrets?” She stretches her arms over her head, and the shirt slips further. I watch as the movement reveals the curve of her neck, the hollow of her collarbone.
