“My head’s hurting,” I murmur. “Would it be okay if I go sit in the living room?”
His hands still in the sink, and when he looks at me, his expression shifts. Concern softens the edges of his features.
“Need help?”
My pulse spikes.
I force a small smile and shake my head. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”
He watches me for a moment longer, then dips his head. “Alright.”
I turn and walk out of the kitchen, heart thudding, feet moving toward the living room like they have to. Like if I stay one second longer, I’ll make a mistake I can’t take back.
It’s not exactly a lie.
My headishurting.
But it’s not just the cold. Or the storm.
It’s the ache of remembering how it feels to be let down by someone you let in. And the terrifying pull of what might happen if you try again.
In the living room, I settle into a chair near the window, tucking one leg beneath me. From here, the world feels quieter. Safer, somehow. The windowpane is cool against my cheek as I lean slightly toward it, watching the snow fallsoft, slow, and relentless. The sky is still heavy with clouds, thick as wool, pressing down on the landscape like a held breath.
The snow’s drifted in places, piling up in sculpted ridges along the fence line and the base of the trees. A wind picks up and carries the flakes sideways, blurring the view like the world’s turning to static.
And beyond that is the creek. I can see the glint of it even from here. Wild, fast, full of fury.
It hasn’t calmed.
Neither have I.
I press a hand against my chest, not even sure what I’m trying to settle. My heartbeat, maybe. Or that fluttering ache just behind my ribs. The one that started the second Sam touched my hand. The one I stepped away from.
Even now, looking out at the storm still raging across the Wyoming countryside, I can’t tell if I regret that step or if it saved me.
But thoughts of Kurt linger, heavy and uninvited. He was charming, much like Sam, and he swept me off my feet without even trying.
I wince. Maybe that was the problem.
Kurt didn’t try to win me over. Not really. He just offered me pretty words, the kind that sound sweet in the moment but rot the second they hit daylight. Words that meant nothing. Empty praise. Promises without weight. And I, god, I was so eager to believe them. I was young, ambitious, hungry to belong in an industry where everyone was replaceable. I thought being wanted meant being valued. That his attention was something I’d earned.
I ignored the red flags. The way he kept me a secret. The way he always made me feel like I was lucky to be near him, as if he were the prize. But in the end, all he did was use me.My connections. My research. My instincts. He took everything I gave him and made it his like I was just a stepping stone he never planned to look back on.
I blink hard, my throat tightening.
The thing that stings most isn’t the betrayal. It’s the fact that I saw it coming and still let it happen.
Never again.
“You look lost in thought.”
The voice is soft, familiar now. I glance up to find Sam standing beside me, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed but eyes sharp. Watching me the way he has from the beginning, like he’s trying to read the spaces between the words.
“Just thinking.”
He nods once, then runs a hand over the stubble lining his jaw. “Phern doesn’t mean anything by what she said. She’s just protective.” He hesitates, then adds, “Especially after what happened with Gwen.”
Gwen. The name hangs there, heavy. Untouched. His ex-wife.
