How am I supposed to leave now?
The thought is ridiculous. I hardly know him. I’ve only kissed him twice. I’ve only?—
Nope. I’m not thinking about last night again.
I lock my phone, shove it facedown on the counter, and tell myself to focus. I need one more day of good light. One more day to pull something meaningful out of myself. One more day where nothing changes.
One last day.
A knock sounds on the door.
My heart lurches. I already know who it is.
I open the door and there he is—Kendrick, hands in his jacket pockets, hair slightly mussed from the wind, eyes steady in that way that makes everything else inside me tip off balance.
“You ready?” he asks.
No.
Yes.
I don’t know.
I shoulder my camera bag. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
He doesn’t tell me where we’re going. He just drives with quiet confidence, turning onto a narrow forest road I haven’t seen before. The trees close in overhead, filtering the early winter light into soft stripes.
We park beside a trailhead with no sign, no marker, nothing but a dirt path leading into deep woods.
“This way,” he says, guiding me with a nod.
I follow him, boots crunching over frost, my breath puffing into the cold air. The trail slopes downward, winding between mossy stones and half-frozen ferns. Water murmurs somewhere in the distance.
After about fifteen minutes, the trees part—and I stop.
“Oh,” I breathe.
A waterfall spills down a cliffside into a crystalline pool, steam lifting where the water hits the rocks. Winter hasn’t frozen it yet—just edged it in delicate lace. Everything glimmers faintly in the low morning light.
It’s beautiful.
No—breathtaking.
“I didn’t know this was here.”
“Most people don’t,” Kendrick says. “Locals keep it quiet.”
“Why show me?”
He looks at me with a softness that slides straight under my ribs. “Because you said you came here to capture something real.”
The words hit me harder than they should.
He steps closer but doesn’t touch me—not yet. “You can’t take this photo for anyone else. Not your agent. Not the gallery. Just you.” A beat. “Just us.”
The breath I take is shaky. “Kendrick…”
He doesn’t fill the silence. He lets me feel it. He lets it settle.
