I open the door before she reaches the porch.
We stare at each other across ten feet of snow. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, her hair is escaping from under a knit cap, and she's wearing that tiny outfit that’s doing nothing to ward off the temperature.
"Hey," she says.
God, that voice. I've missed it so much.
"Hey."
Bear pushes past me, nearly knocking me over in his rush to get to her. She drops to her knees, and he’s all over her—licking her face, pressing against her, making sounds I’ve never heard him make. She buries her face in his fur, and her shoulders shake.
“I missed you too, buddy.”
When she stands, her eyes are wet. She holds up the tin.
“I brought cookies. I figured I should return your tin.” Her smile wobbles. “And maybe apologize for running away.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” The words come out harder than I intend. “You left—you had a life to get back to.”
One that doesn’t include me.
“It doesn’t mean I should have.” She takes a step closer. “It doesn’t mean I didn’t regret it the second I got home.”
I scrub my face, unable to take my eyes off her.
“Beth called me a coward,” she continues, with a bitter edge to her laugh. “She said I finally found something real, and I bolted because I was scared. She wasn’t wrong.”
“Beth knew you were coming here?” I raise my brows.
“She’s been begging me to come back and ‘claim my man.’” Sasha shifts the tin from one hand to the other. “She said you’ve been alone too long. That you needed someone willing to fight for you.”
My brows bunch together. “I don’t need?—”
“I know what you’re going to say.” She cuts me off, steel in her voice now. “That you don’t need anyone, that you’re finealone. That this was just a storm and some sex, and I should go back to my life and forget about it.”
I close my mouth. That wasn’t what I was gonna say. Just a storm and some sex?Fuck, no.
“But here’s the thing, Red.” She’s climbing the porch steps now, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her eyes. “I tried. I tried to go back to normal, to pretend those days didn’t happen, but everything felt wrong. The apartment was too small, the bakery was too loud, and my bed was too empty.”
“Sasha—”
“I don’t know what this is.” She’s right in front of me now, and I can feel the heat radiating from her despite the cold. “I don’t know if it’s smart or stupid. But I know it felt like something. And I’m tired of running from things that scare me just because they might not work out.”
The tin sits between us, both a barrier and a peace offering. I take it from her hands and set it on the porch railing without looking.
“Are you sure about this? Because I won’t be able to let you go once I have you back.”
“Good.” Her chin lifts. “Because I’m not planning on leaving again.”
The kiss happens before I’ve fully closed the distance. My hands cup her face, and her mouth opens against mine, and it’s nothing like our first kiss or our last. This one tastes like coming home. Like second chances. Like everything I’ve been too afraid to want.
“Sasha, fuck,” I moan, walking her backward until her spine hits the door. Deepening the kiss, I feel her hands fisting in my jacket like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“Inside,” I manage between kisses. “I need you inside.”
“Yes.”
I fumble with the door, get it open, and we’re through it in a tangle of limbs and desperate touches. Bear circles us, his tail wagging frantically, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is her—the weight of her in my arms, the taste of her mouth, the way she’s pulling at my clothes like she needs skin contact more than air.
