I stepped toward her slowly, giving her every chance to move back.
She didn’t.
Her eyes lifted, soft and vulnerable.
“Sienna,” I murmured, “I don’t need perfect. Or clear. Or defined. I just want a chance to figure out whatever this is.”
She inhaled shakily. “Okay.”
It wasn’t a definitive yes.
It wasn’t a straight no.
But it was enough.
And as that tentative, fragile something settled between us again, her mom’s voice echoed faintly from the porch window:
“Don’t forget, Carson! Three O’clock.”
Sienna groaned into her hands.
I laughed, really laughed.
A sound I hadn’t heard from myself in too long.
She peeked at me through her fingers. “Still coming?”
I nodded. “Still coming.”
Her shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and all I could think was that I’m in so much deeper than I realized.
And if she lets me…I won’t climb out.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sienna
I had survived bear encounters, lightning storms, one particularly vengeful flock of geese, and that time I accidentally hiked into a particularly muddy section of Denali National Park.
But nothing,nothing, prepared me for Easter with my family after I’d slept with Carson Reed.
I told myself I was ready.
I told myself I wouldn’t blush.
Or fumble.
Or think about his mouth.
Or his hands. Or what those hands did in that tent.
Lies. All lies.
Because when I walked into the Harper house Easter, I was met with a level of chaos so profound, it should have come with a warning label.
“Move, move, hot pans!” my mom yelled, barreling through the kitchen with a roasting tray full of candied carrots.
Pink, green, and yellow streamers hung from every doorframe because the lodge never missed a chance for a holiday-themed event. Fifi had set out four pastel tablecloths, claiming the medley was whimsical, but it looked like Easter eggs had revolted.
