But my heartbeat still hasn’t settled. My lips still feel warm. My body still remembers every inch of him above me.
Ash strides past without looking at me. “I’m going inside.”
“Ash—”
He doesn’t stop. Just tosses over his shoulder, raw and quiet: “Lucy, don’t follow me.”
Which is exactly why I take one step after him—before Holly drags me toward the cocoa stand. I turn back once. Through the glass door of the firehouse, I see him—shoulders braced against the wall, head tipped back, chest rising like he’s trying to breathe normally.
Because of me.
And suddenly I know:
This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.
For both of us.
Chapter Eleven
Ash
Iopen the cabin door the night after our snowball fight and near kiss expecting pizza delivery.
Instead I get Lucy Snow.
She stands on my porch bundled in a soft gray coat, hair curled from the cold, cheeks flushed pink. She's holding a stack of children’s books—Holly’s favorites from the library.
The sight of her hits me like a punch to the ribs. A warm one. A dangerous one.
“Ash,” she says, breath visible in the freezing air. “I just came to drop these off.”
Just. As if anything involving her is ever just anything.
Before I can respond, Holly shouts from inside, “Is it Lucy?”
Lucy’s smile wavers. “Hi, sweetheart!”
Holly barrels toward the door, socks sliding on the wood floor, clutching her stuffed polar bear by the leg.
“Miss Lucy!” she beams. “You came!”
“She brought your books,” I say, stepping back. “So you can stop asking me to reread the same one twelve times.”
“I liked that one,” Holly argues.
Lucy laughs softly, and I fucking swear, the sound warms the entire damn cabin more than the wood stove. I nod toward the living room. “You can come in.”
She hesitates. “Only for a second.”
I know why she’s saying that. We’ve been orbiting something we shouldn’t.
And she’s trying to keep herself out of my gravity well. Smart. Impossible, but smart.
She steps inside. Snow melts in her hair and I want to brush it away. I don’t.
“Thank you for bringing the books,” I say, voice gruffer than intended. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know.” She looks up at me—really looks—and my chest tightens in that now-familiar, unwelcome way.
