“He went to Brock’s cabin—” she answered not quite finished speaking, but I’d already started running back to my car, my heart racing from the exertion and the desperation to reach him.
Ten agonizingly long minutes later, I pulled onto the access road that led to the cabin. The rain was really coming down, making the water level raise at the nearby creek, flooding the road ahead. My tires struggled to find purchase on the slick, muddy road. I should have replaced my tires, I should have bought a vehicle that could handle off-roading conditions. Impatient, I directed the stupid thing off to the side of the road, cutting the engine before I’d even put it in park. If Braden had caught that, he’d have lit into me about how I was damaging the motor. I grabbed my keys and took a deep breath.
The rain was cold, drenching me within seconds as I ran the rest of the way to the cabin. My breath shot out in puffs in front of me, and my skin was pebbled into goosebumps.
I pounded on the door, shivering before it. A moment passed, then another, before Braden threw open the door. “I told you Becky, I’m fine!” he barked out before his eyes landed on me. “Elle,” he said, almost in disbelief.
“I forgot my phone at home,” I said, my teeth chattering. “I sent you Facebook messages, but I don’t think you got them.”
“No, I didn’t get them. I’ve been here.” The look in his eyes was still guarded, still wary.
“Why did you think I was Becky?” I asked, tilting my head. My brows furrowed as I studied him, noticing the way he winced slightly.
“She’s just worried.” He said, his tone booking no room for questioning. Naturally, being me—I didn’t listen.
“Why?” my heart plummeted as I envisioned all of the terrible scenes that could have inspired worry in Becky.
“I went to the bar,” he admitted, shame lacing his words. “I didn’t drink, but I went. Alone. And I spent five hours there.”
“But you didn’t drink,” I pointed out, stepping towards him. I ran my hands along his forearms, griping them gently.
“No, I didn’t.” At his words, I felt some of the tension roll away.
“Why did you go?” I questioned, knowing the answer before I asked it.
“Because I thought you were gone. You didn’t text me or call me back.” He didn’t say it in an accusatory way, he was just explaining how he’d felt in the moment. I reached up to cup his cheek, the rough stubble rubbing against my palm.
“I told you I had a meeting with my boss. You knew I needed to get my stuff packed up too,” I reminded him, not unkindly. I knew what insecurity could do. I knew how it could chip away at facts until it altered your perception of reality. He was already dealing with so much, my silence must have felt terrible to him.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
“I came here as soon as I got back.”
“I see that,” he smirked, peering around me. “Where’s your car?”
“Down the road, I couldn’t drive it in.” I shrugged, shivering again. He pulled me inside to the warmth of the cabin. Hunter barely lifted his head from his spot on the floor. Brock and Tessa weren’t expected back from the Dominican until Sunday night, and the fact that we were completely alone wasn’t lost on either of us.
His eyes were feral, his tongue darting out across his lips, as if he wanted to bite into me. My skin was freezing, but the blood in my veins burned. He pulled me against him, not caring that I was drenched and soaking him in the process. His hands gripped my ass, the points of his fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises.
I welcomed the roughness of it; welcomed the frantic frenzied way his mouth moved against mine. He lifted me up, carrying me backwards enough to slam the door behind me.
He spun around and held me against the front door, breaking away long enough to look at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes upon. He brushed away a few strands of wet hair that clung to my cheek, his eyes searching mine. His mouth slated against mine, claiming me once again. Hands fumbled on wet clothes, peeling and stripping.
He lifted me up when we were both naked, rubbing against my centre as he carried me into the spare bedroom. We fell into the bed together, his hands stroking and igniting.
He slid into me, stretching and filling me as he drove home. I gasped at the beautiful intrusion. He stilled, looking down at me with reverence. “Just so we’re clear, you’re mine now, like you should have always been.” He said, his voice gruff.
I nodded, the smile on my face as bright as the lightness I felt in my heart. “I’m yours.” I repeated, my legs falling open. I arched up, drawing him in more, loving the hiss of his breath.
* * *
We spent the remainder of the weekend together at Brock’s cabin. We talked for hours, filling each other in on everything that had happened during the last four years. We reconnected and spoke freely about the future while we sat on the front porch of the cabin, watching the sun rise with steaming cups of coffee in our hands and Hunter at our feet.
“I’m probably going to stay at Chuck’s garage for a bit,” he admitted to me, as if he thought this news would upset me. “Until he decides what he’s going to do with the business. He might close it or he might sell it.”
I smiled at him, lifting a shoulder up in a shrug. “I’ll probably be jobless for a bit, until I figure out what it is I want to do with my life,” I pointed out, pausing to take a sip from my mug. I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the fact that I wasn’t panicked about the prospect of being jobless and without a career.
He was quiet for a few moments, lost in thought. “You should really be an event planner. Start up your own business,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling.
