“It’s cold.”
“It’s fear.” The truth in his voice pierced through the thin armor I’d been trying to shield myself with. I hated that he cared. And I hated, no that wasn’t strong enough. I despised how much I still wanted to lean into him.
“No,” I insisted, stepping back. “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to?—”
The sound of a tree branch cracked outside, and I gasped. His hand lifted, like instinct demanded he touch me, or comfort me, or protect me. Or maybe do all of that at the same time. But his hand stopped inches away from my face, his fingers curled in the air.
My chest tightened. Every memory we’d ever shared crashed over me: the way he used to pull me into his jacket when I got cold, the way he’d rub slow circles on my back when I was scared, the way he’d whisper I’ve got you like he meant it with his entire soul. And I hated myself for wanting to step straight into his arms.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
He dropped his arm immediately, his jaw tight. “Sorry.”
The space between us burned. I turned away, blinking hard. “I should go.”
“Scarlett—”
“I should’ve gone last night.”
“You can’t leave.”
“Watch me.”
I stomped toward the door, grabbed the handle, and yanked it open. Snow poured in. The wind howled like it was a living, breathing thing, ready to gobble me up alive. I stared at the whiteout, the letter shaking in my hand.
He stepped into the doorway next to me. Our breath misted in the freezing air and tangled together. “I won’t let you go out in that.”
Swallowing, I forced the panic past the painful lump in my throat. He was right… again.
“Scarlett—”
“I’m not leaving,” I snapped, hating the tremor in my voice. “Not because of you. Because of the storm.”
He nodded. “Good.”
I slammed the door and blew out a shaky breath. A charged silence settled between us. “I’ll be in the bedroom,” I said, my voice rough. “Don’t come after me.”
He nodded again. “I won’t.”
I turned away, my heart pounding, my fingers still clutching the damn envelope. Inside the bedroom, I shut the door with shaking hands, leaned against it, and finally let myself breathe. The storm raged outside while the one inside me gathered momentum. I should have at least grabbed a mug of coffee before I locked myself back in the bedroom.
With nothing to drag my attention away from the damn envelope, I sat down on the edge of the bed and sucked in a deep, steadying breath. Then I tore it open. My eyes scanned the first line. Everything inside me broke.
“Oh my god…” I whispered. Tears blurred the ink. I pressed my hand to my mouth, my heart cracking wide open. And in that small, dim room, while the mountain storm swallowed the world outside, I realized the truth I’d been avoiding for way too long. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER 3
KINGSTON
I watchedher disappear back down the hall, wishing I had the words and the courage to explain the decision I’d made all those years ago. I’d spent fourteen years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit, and I’d do the same thing again, even knowing what it had cost me. She’d wouldn’t have understood then, and I didn’t expect her to get it now.
So instead of going after her, I moved toward the fireplace and tossed another log onto the flames. Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured her reading that letter. Every word I’d written came back like it was carved into my soul. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting her go and sparing her the wreckage of my life. But all I’d done was torch the bridge between us and leave her to choke on the smoke.
The door stayed closed while I shrugged on my snow gear so I could go out and fire up the generator. It was still closed a half hour later when I came back in and warmed up by the fire. When it finally creaked open, I turned, half expecting her to storm out swinging again. But she walked slowly, her eyes red, the letter still in her hand.
I didn’t say a word. Just waited.
She crossed the room and stopped a few feet from me, still wearing my sweatshirt, her steps making no sound against the hardwood.
