“It’s not a request.”
Her eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”
“You’ll freeze your ass off before you hit the second bend. I’m not letting you walk off a mountain in a whiteout because you’re pissed at me.”
“I’m not pissed.” She crossed her arms, shivering in a coat that was way too thin. “I’m furious.”
“Fine. You can be furious inside.”
She opened her mouth, ready to argue again, but another gust of wind barreled through, pushing snow sideways so thick I could barely see the porch lights behind us.
I softened my voice. “Scarlett… please.”
Her jaw trembled. Not from emotion… she wasn’t about to give me that… but from cold and sheer exhaustion. And also probably from carrying years of unanswered questions like weights strapped to her shoulders.
Finally, she huffed out a breath. “Fine. Only because I’m choosing life over freezing to death. But you’re not allowed to talk to me.”
I stepped to the side to let her climb out. She stomped toward the cabin, her boots crunching over the snow, and for one gut-twisting second, I let myself look at her the way I used to, her head high, dark curls wild, temper hotter than hellfire. She was a woman made of sharp edges and soft centers. A woman I’d destroyed without even touching.
I closed her door and followed her inside.
She stood in the middle of my entryway, her arms wrapped across her middle. The snow melted and dripped from the edge of her coat onto the hardwood floor. For a heartbeat, she looked like the girl I used to bring flowers to after school. The girl I kissed under the bleachers. The girl I promised I’d come back for. The girl I left behind.
“Let me get you a towel,” I said.
“Don’t bother. I won’t be here long.”
I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on a hook by the door. “You’ll be here long enough.”
Scarlett shot me a look that could have melted all the ice in Antarctica, then moved toward the fire, rubbing her hands together. The firelight cast a glow across her cheekbones, softening her expression no matter how hard she tried to stay angry.
“I can get you something dry to put on,” I said.
“I don’t want your clothes.” She lifted her chin. “I just need to dry off a bit, and then I want space. You stay on that side of the cabin. I’ll stay over here.”
Despite everything… the years, the distance, the ache lodged permanently under my ribcage… I almost smiled. Scarlett Monroe, furious as ever, freezing her ass off in my cabin, was still trying to tell me what to do.
“This isn’t funny,” she snapped.
“You’re right,” I said, my voice quiet. “It’s not.”
She blinked but held my gaze like she was surprised I’d actually agreed with her. I wasn’t the same reckless boy who once would’ve thrown gasoline on this fire to keep her looking at me.
“You can use the bathroom down the hall,” I said. “There should be clean towels in the cabinet.”
She nodded once, her eyes still colder than the storm outside, and disappeared down the hallway.
The moment she was out of sight, the whole cabin seemed to let out its breath. I braced my hands on the back of the sofa and lowered my head, grounding myself against the leather. She was here. In my cabin. In this storm. With a letter that could drown us both.
I should’ve felt ripped apart by every jagged edge of the past trying to cut its way back in. But instead, I felt… alive. Everything inside me had been dead since the day I walked outof her life. With her close, breathing the same air, watching the fire in her eyes spark, I felt alive in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
And that was going to be my downfall if I let it.
CHAPTER 2
SCARLETT
I stepped backinto the living room wearing one of Kingston’s old gray sweatshirts and my leggings. I hadn’t meant to take him up on his offer of something dry to wear, but as soon as I peeled off my damp sweater, something in me caved. I needed warmth and comfort. And like always, his sweatshirt smelled like both.
