“I should’ve believed you,” I continue, voice lower now. “I should’ve gotten up, checked it out, looked for prints in the snow, something. But I didn’t. And that’s on me.”
She blinks. “Why are you saying this now?”
I set my mug down on the counter with a soft clink.
“Because my Jeep had a flat tire… and the battery’s gone.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
“I need to check if your car’s battery will work with mine. If it’s still there, that is. We’ve gotta see if we can get off this mountain and back into town. Whatever’s going on out there.” I pause, jaw tightening. “We shouldn’t be here.”
Tears swell instantly in her eyes, and her voice wavers, “You believe me?”
I don’t hesitate to cross the distance between us. I take the coffee from her shaking hands, dropping her an assuring smile, before setting it next to mine on the counter. Dragging her against me, I wrap my arms around her like it’ll protect her from everything. Past, present, and whatever the hell’s outside these walls, taunting us when the sun sets beyond the horizon.
“Yes,” I say against her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t last night. I should’ve seen it in your face. Heard it in your voice. I never should’ve made you feel like you were alone in this.”
A jagged breath leaves her lips, the kind that’s half sob, half relief. Her hands rise, clutching my shirt, pulling me in tighter.
Tilting her face up, my lips brush softly against hers. But the moment she moans into it, the dam breaks. It’s a collision of guilt, need, and something deeper that I’m not ready to name yet.
She kisses me back with equal force, lips parting, tongue invading. The towel loosens beneath my grip as I slide my hands down her back. It falls away entirely, silently landing against the hardwood floor.
Her bare skin’s warm and smooth against my thawing fingertips. But the heat between us is matched by the cold dread still hanging in the air.
I kiss her like it’s the last time I’ll get to. Because part of me is starting to worry that might be on the table.
THIRTEEN
AVA
The moment Scott pulls away, I shiver against the chilling air. My nipples tighten, beading into thickening buds. Standing butt naked in the middle of the cabin, it’s not surprising. He notices, quickly bending down to grab the forgotten towel piled at our feet.
My legs quake as I wrap it snugly around my chest. Lingering adrenaline and vulnerability haven’t yet fled my system, making it worse. My head spins, trying to keep up with his hot and cold moods. But his soft apology and acceptance of what’s been happening smooths the worst of last night’s fracture.
Exhaling, I steady myself the only way I know how, by shifting my focus.
Keys, he needs my keys.
I rub my hands over my arms, drawing warmth into them as I cross the room. I haven’t touched my keys since I got here. There’s been no reason to, when my car wouldn’t move an inch if I tried. Reaching into the pocket of my coat, hangingfrom the hooks behind the door, the keys jingle cheerfully, missing the mood of the room completely.
My heart ratchets up when Scott steps in and takes them from my hand, his callused fingers closing around mine with a quick squeeze. He looks unsteady. It’s jarring, something I never expected to see cross his handsome face.
“Get dressed,” he says quietly. “And start packing, just your things. Leave the food and anything else for now. We’ll deal with it later.”
There’s no argument in his voice, only a steady demand. His head tilts as he stares into my eyes with a softness I trust. His lips quirk into a shallow smirk before he adds, “And, Ava, last night.” That smirk morphs into a blinding white smile. “We’re still going to talk about last night because once wasn’t enough for me.”
My cheeks burn, a flush no doubt illuminating them like a damn stoplight. I nod, all too eager but shy with the sunshine blaring through the grimy windows. It was easy to be with him in the dead of night. The darkness consumed my deepest fantasies and brought them to life.
I thought that’s all it was. One night. An excusable slip of judgment. Something I’d replay in the future when the man I ultimately married rutted above me and couldn’t get me off. But maybe my assumptions about it were all wrong.
He drops a soft kiss on my forehead and walks out the front door. The words left unsaid between us hang in the space he vacates.
I stumble to the back of the cabin for my room. Retreating to the dresser, I’d only just unloaded everything into the day before. I frantically pack after throwing on the first pair of clothes I touch. Moving without pause, unwilling to take a second longer than needed, I load everything.
That’s when it dawns on me, I should pack for Scott, too. Whatever he’s doing out there, it should give me enough time to throw his stuff in a bag at the very least. Leaving my bag all but zipped, I rush down the hall, opening the door to his room. The room he hasn’t been using for the last two nights because he’s been sleeping next to me.
His travel bag sits neatly packed and closed, resting on the chair by the window. But my stomach drops, a gaping hole of unease oozing into every pore. The window’s open. A cold wind whips frost across the sill, sending delicate crystalline swirls into the air.
