He caught it easily, gaze flicking to mine with a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Violet baked things,” I said, unnecessarily. “And she insisted I bring them. To you. Immediately. Before any of them cooled. Apparently.”
He stepped aside. “Want to come in?”
I hesitated. Just a fraction. Just enough to feel the shift inside myself—the part that always wanted to run, now… pausing.
And I did the mature thing. I stepped in.
His cabin was tidy in the way only a man who had lived out of duffel bags for years could be tidy—minimal things, arrangedwith quiet precision. A stack of trail maps sat on the counter. His pack leaned against the wall. A single mug rested near the sink.
The air smelled faintly of cedar and the soap he used.
He set the basket on the table, lifting the cloth cover.
“Wow,” he breathed. “She sent enough to feed a search party.”
“That’s because my family doesn’t understand reasonable portion sizes,” I said, stepping closer. “Or boundaries. Or subtlety.”
He gave a soft laugh. “Thank them for me.”
“I won’t,” I said. “That’ll only encourage them.”
His eyes warmed, landing on my face a moment longer than necessary.
“You seem less stressed today.”
I shrugged, fiddling with the edge of the cloth.
“Yeah, well… don’t get used to it. I might panic later.”
He leaned against the counter, arms crossing, watching me with that quiet attention that always felt like a spotlight and a blanket at the same time. “Last night went well.”
It wasn’t a question. Just a statement he offered carefully, like he was giving me room to disagree if I needed to.
“It did,” I said.
His smile deepened. “Good.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Good.”
Finally, I cleared my throat. “I need to tell you something.”
His brows lifted slightly. “Okay.”
I took a breath. “I… was being passive-aggressive yesterday.”
He blinked. “…About the trip?”
“Yes. The upcoming trip. The one I tried to throw you to the wolves on. Literally and figuratively.”
“No…I never saw that coming.” A laugh escaped him. “Why passive-aggressive?”
“Because I panicked,” I admitted. “And when I panic, I do stupid things. Like, wipe my name off a work assignment and replace it with empty space.”
He tilted his head, studying me. Not judging. Just listening.
