It wascertain.
Her lips were soft, warm, tasting faintly like mint tea. She curled her hand into my shirt, pulling me closer, and I let myself fall into the moment, into her, holding the back of her neck gently as I kissed her deeper.
She sighed against my mouth, and that sound nearly undid me.
When I finally pulled back, she stayed close, breathing just a little unsteady.
“Go,” she whispered. “Before you give me a reason to drag you back inside.”
My pulse kicked hard at the implication.
I pressed one last kiss to her head. “Three days.”
“Three days,” she echoed.
I stepped back reluctantly, letting the air cool between us. She watched me from the doorway as I turned toward my cabin to pack, her expression bright, tender, and something dangerously close to hopeful.
And for the first time in years, walking away felt less like abandonment…and more like a promise to return.
Chapter Forty-One
Sienna
The lodge kitchen had always been my safe haven, a place where the scent of brewing coffee and rising bread made everything else in life feel manageable. But the moment I stepped inside that morning, I knew something was off.
My entire family was waiting for me.
Mom at the stove, stirring something that smelled suspiciously like cinnamon oatmeal. Violet and Fiona perched on opposite stools like synchronized vultures. Dad reading the paper but absolutelynotreading the paper because his eyes were following my every move. And Beck leaning against the counter with both eyebrows raised in that older brother expression.
I paused in the doorway.
“Okay,” I said slowly, holding the basket like a shield. “Who died?”
Mom set down her wooden spoon. “Sweetheart, where’s Carson? His truck is gone.”
There it was.
Five innocent little words.
Five words that detonated the room.
Violet swiveled on her stool. “You let him leave already?”
“Did he say goodbye?” Fiona gasped.
“Was it dramatic?” Violet added.
“Did he kiss you?” Fiona chimed in.
Dad cleared his throat, trying to pretend he wasn’t listening. Beck didn’t bother pretending. He crossed his arms, stared straight at me, and grinned like a fox about to enjoy a henhouse buffet.
“Is he coming back?” Beck’s brows lifted.
I blinked at all of them. “Can I… take one step into the room before you interrogate me?”
“No,” Violet said. “Information first. Stepping second.”
Fiona leaned forward. “So where is he?”
