“And the figuring out your life part?”
I shake my head with an amused grin. “I think I’m just really starting to figure out who I am. Who I’m meant to be. What this life has in store for me.”
He doesn’t push. Just nods in understanding.
The urge to tell him that it feels likehe’sa piece of my future, is on the tip of my tongue. But, I’m too afraid to say it outloud. Idon’t want to ruin what we have right now. To push too far, too soon.
At some point, the fire burns down to embers, and Rhett adds another log. The light shifts, the day moving slowly outside the windows, the sky deepening from gray to blue.
“You know,” he says after a while, “I don’t usually bring people here.”
My heart stutters.
“Here?” I ask.
“My space. My life.” He shrugs, then looks at me fully. “It always felt too risky. But you don’t feel like a risk.”
The wall around my heart begins to crumble.
“I thought signing up for the dating app was a risk. I’m glad I did now, though.”
“Good.”
We spend the fading afternoon bundled in blankets, making love and reading quietly side by side in between. Who knew the man had such an impressive bookshelf. The book Rhett’s chosen is one I recognize—a hockey memoir I’d ordered for the library last year. The fact that he borrowed it makes me smile.
Mine? It’s one I’ve read before but it’s always the perfect re-read. I’ve always loved the Divergent series and was surprised to find it on Rhett’s shelf.
At dusk, the power still isn’t back on.
Rhett lights a few candles, the glow turning everything golden.
“This feels like a snow globe,” I say.
He hums. “Yeah. One I don’t mind being stuck in.”
“I should probably worry about how fast this feels,” I say softly.
“Are you worried?” he asks.
I consider it. The calm. The certainty in my heart.
“No,” I admit. “I think I’m just surprised.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Me too.”
The light outside fades completely, turning the windows into mirrors. Snow presses against the glass in thick, quiet sheets, as if the world beyond Rhett’s house has agreed to leave us alone for a while longer.
He exhales, content, and shifts so I’m more comfortably tucked against him. His arm tightens around my waist, anchoring me, grounding me. I can’t remember the last time I felt this safe.
“Power company texted,” he says after a moment. “Says they’re hoping to have everything restored by morning.”
There’s something in his tone—casual, but searching.
“Oh,” I say. “That’s… good.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “It is. I’m hoping that means I get to keep you for a little while longer now.”
“I have nowhere to go.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.
