This is happening. We're doing this. No more pretending. No more waiting.
And whatever comes next, this is my decision.
He's mine.
I'm his.
For the first time in my life, I'm brave enough to reach for what I want.
Ryder
Lucy's hand is warm in mine.
I pull away from the curb and head toward the edge of town, which isn’t very far at all. The cab is silent except for the heater and the sound of our breathing. She hasn't let go of my hand. I'm not letting go of hers.
"Where are we going?" she asks. Her voice is quiet. Almost shy.
"Somewhere private." I glance at her. "Somewhere we can be alone. Really alone."
"We're alone now."
"In a truck on a public road." I lace our fingers tighter. "I want more than stolen moments in parking lots, Lucy. I want time."
She's quiet for a moment. Then: "What do you want it to be?"
The question makes my chest tight. Because I don't know. All I know is that this afternoon at her shop, when she said she was done waiting to be chosen, something in me broke open.
"I want you," I say. Simple. True. "For however long we have. I want to see where this goes."
"Even though you're leaving?"
"Especially because I'm leaving." I take the turn toward the old logging road. "I don't know how to make this work long-term. Don't know if I can be what you need. But Lucy, I know I want to try."
She squeezes my hand. "That's all I'm asking for."
The logging road is rough. The truck bounces over ruts and rocks. Tree branches scrape the sides. Lucy grips the handle above her door but doesn't ask where we're going. Just trusts me.
I don't deserve that trust. But I'm going to earn it anyway.
A quarter mile in, I turn onto an even smaller path. The trees open up and there it is.
The old Henderson hunting cabin sits in a clearing, backed by pines heavy with snow. Small. Maybe two rooms. Wood siding weathered to silver-gray. Stone chimney. Windows dark but intact. The roof sags a bit but it's solid.
I park and kill the engine.
"What is this place?" Lucy asks.
"Hunting cabin. Belongs to Mrs. Henderson but they haven't used it in years." I turn to look at her. "Connor and I used to come here when we were kids. When we needed to get away from everything. I asked her this afternoon if I could use it again. Said I needed some peace."
"Did she believe you?"
"She just handed me the key and told me to be careful." I trace my thumb over her knuckles. "She saw us at your shop. She knows something's going on. But she didn't ask questions."
Lucy's eyes go wide. "So the whole town will know by morning."
"Maybe. But Mrs. Henderson likes you. And she's known me since I was a kid. Connor and I used to hide out here when we needed space from our families." I meet her eyes. "She gave me the key without asking too many questions. I think she gets it."
"You can't know that for sure."
