I can handle Chloe being short with me. I can even swallow the passive-aggressive comments. What’s really getting under my skin is the way she treats Mom and Dad. Like they’re the enemy. Like they ruined her life.
I exhale slowly. “Dad never forced us into the academy,” I say, more to myself than to her. “Just like Mom never forced Chloe into law school. That was her choice. All of ours were.”
Lore nods. “Parents influence. They don’t control. There’s a difference.”
I glance over at her again, she still manages to surprise me. Lore never says things to take sides. She says them because she understands balance, because she had to learn it early, practically raising Gen after their parents died. She learned when to step in and when to step back, toeing the line between sibling and parent. It shows in everything she does.
The rest of the drive passes in comfortable silence, broken only by small talk and the occasional comment about the road. I’ve never been to Barry’s cabin before. Never had the time.
It’s near Mount Creek. Barry said there’s a stream a little way behind the house. He warned us that if it rains, we should head back to the cabin. There’s a levee, but he said not to mess with nature. It wasn’t that long ago that devastating floods tore through this region, so we’re extra careful.
I pull up in front of a small, rustic cabin tucked into the trees. The second I step out of the car, I take a deep breath. Pine, and damp earth, hits me all at once, filling my lungs in a way the city never does. There’s one clear path through the trees where we drove in. Everything else is dense forest, untouched and quiet.
I grab our bags and follow Lore inside. The cabin is one open layout. We step into the living room. To the left is the kitchen. To the right is the open bedroom. There’s another door near the bed that I’m guessing leads to the bathroom.
“Cozy,” Lore says, smiling.
I drop the bags by the door and lock it, glancing around. “I know it’s not the Ritz.”
She turns to me like I’ve just said something ridiculous. “Are you kidding me?” She steps closer, looping her arms around my neck. “A cabin in the woods with my sexy husband?” Her lips brush mine as she finishes, “Screw the Ritz.”
I smile against her mouth. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Screw the Ritz.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lorelie
Patrick’s hands drift down my back, hot and heavy. I arch into him without thinking, leaning into the kiss.
When his palm slides over my bare skin, something in me sparks and then snaps.
I pull back with a sharp breath. “Do you want to go on a hike?”
He blinks, clearly caught off guard by the sudden turn. For half a second, he looks almost dazed. Then he nods, like I didn’t just do a one eighty
“Yeah,” he says, voice rough. He clears his throat. “Yeah. Just let me use the bathroom.”
He walks over and opens the door beside the bed.
It’s a closet. Empty hangers sway slightly; a few jackets shoved to one side. He stares at it, confused, then looks back at me for help.
I bite my lip and point across the room. “Other side of the wall. Living room.”
“Oh,” he says, nodding like that explains everything. He shuts the door and opens the correct one this time, revealing an actual bathroom.
When the door clicks shut behind him, I exhale slowly and press my hand to my chest.
I don’t know what just happened.
Despite what I said in the car, I did, in fact, wax. I knew what tonight might turn into. I planned for it, even. I told myself I was ready, that this was long overdue.
But the second his hand slid across my skin, my brain short-circuited.
And can you blame me? The last time we reconnected physically, I had to kick him out the very next day. My brain remembers that, even if my heart wants to forget.
It’s been six months since we started trying again. Six months of talking. Of therapy. Of dates that end with long kisses and careful goodnights. I want him. God, I do.
I just need a second to be sure; I don’t flinch the next time.
