Beck scoffed. “He does not regret it. The man looked ready to chop down a whole forest to burn off emotions.”
Violet nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. He had that ‘silent tension’ vibe. Like a man writing poetry in his head but refusing to admit it.”
“Carson doesn’t write poetry,” I whispered.
“He does now,” Fifi sang.
My sisters burst into laughter.
And despite everything, the humiliation, the panic, the absolute terror of my emotions being on blast, I felt something warm thread through me.
Family chaos.
Love.
Support.
Even if it came wrapped in teasing.
I let out a long, shaky breath.
“I am not falling for Carson,” I said firmly. “I refuse.”
“Okay,” Violet said, patting my shoulder. “We believe you.”
They didn’t.
I didn’t either.
Because when I closed my eyes, I could still feel the way he held me after I fell into the lake. The way he whispered my name in the tent. The way he looked at me when I said I didn’t want to hurt him.
And worst of all, I could still feel the moment right before I kissed him.
The moment I stopped running and let myself want him.
I swallowed hard.
Then the lodge door opened again.
And this time?
ItwasCarson.
He stepped in, flannel rolled at the sleeves, hair windswept, eyes landing on me instantly.
And my sisters gasped in unison.
Because my expression changed.
Because my heart betrayed me.
Because something in me softened without permission.
And Violet whispered, loud enough for everyone:
“Oh yeah. She’s a goner.”
Chapter Thirty
