He meets my gaze, almost unreadable—but something warm flickers there. He steps closer.
“’Imagine living here’, you said, when you first saw it from the boat. It was the one you liked the most. You said it looked like the kind of place where you could breathe.”
I blink. The wind rustles gently through the trees, and for a moment, all I can do is take it in.
The house. The lake. His voice, quiet beside me.
I don’t ask if it’s his. I don’t ask how or when or why.
Because somehow, none of that matters. Not right now.
What matters is this stillness—the kind I didn’t expect to find again. And the man beside me, who remembered something I barely did.
And deep in my chest, something tight begins to loosen.
But I don’t let it go. Not yet.
Because I know—
What comes next… won’t be quiet.
Chapter 12
POINT OF NO RETURN
Some wounds stay quiet—until they don’t
Dorian
Seeing her reaction when she recognized the house was worth every mile, every moment I stopped myself from asking questions along the way.
There is something in her face—surprise, yes, but something softer too. Like wonder. Her eyes light up, her shoulders no longer drawn tight in defense. For once, she isn’t on guard. Not entirely.
She stands in silence, taking it all in—the slope of the roof, the great windows glinting in the light, the quiet curve of the deck wrapping toward the water. Her gaze wanders across the trees, the lake, the house itself. I don’t interrupt. I give her space to feel it.
I get around the car and pull the bag out of the trunk.
“What’s with the bag?” she asks, brows lifting, voice cautious.
“We’re staying the night.” My tone stays calm, with a small smile tugging at my lips.
She blinks.
“No, we are not. I have to get back.” A pause, her eyes flicking away as she reaches for an excuse “I have nothing to change into.”
“I packed a bag for you too. Hopefully everything you need.” I keep my voice even. “It’s already late. And I thought maybe we could enjoy a quiet evening at the lake.”
Her lips part like she is ready to protest again, but something stops her.
“Fine,” she mutters after a beat, recovering quickly. “But I’m taking the master bedroom with the lake view.”
I grin. “Whatever you desire.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it.
Inside, she walks ahead of me, pausing in the open living room. She takes off her heels and steps barefoot across the space. I watch her trail her fingers along the back of the sofa, touch the wood frame of the windows like making sure it is real.
It strikes me with a quiet intensity—how right she looks here. How the sight of her moving through this place makes it feel less like a beautiful house and more like… home.
