***
I wake to the smell of coffee and bacon.
For a moment I don't know where I am. Late morning light streams through the curtains. The sheets smell like him—soap and smoke and something warmer underneath.
Then I remember.
The shed. The gun. The way he kissed me like he was drowning. The bath. The story about Red.
I stretch, and my whole body aches in the best way. The soak helped, but I still feel him everywhere. Muscles I forgot I had. Places he found that I didn't know existed.
His side of the bed is cold, but recently vacated. The pillow still holds the indent of his head.
I pull on the first thing I find—a fresh flannel from his drawer—and pad barefoot to the kitchen.
He's at the stove. Shirtless. Sweatpants slung low on his hips. Spatula in one hand, coffee mug in the other. The morning light catches the scars on his back, the ink that winds across his shoulders.
He hears me coming. Turns. And the look on his face—
Soft. Open. A little uncertain.
"Hey."
A grunt. But his eyes are soft.
I cross the kitchen. Slide my arms around his waist from behind. Press my cheek to his back.
He freezes. Then his free hand covers mine, pressing it flat against his stomach.
"Bacon's burning," I say.
"Don't care."
"You will when the smoke alarm goes off."
He grunts. Turns back to the stove, but doesn't let go of my hand. Just holds it there against his skin while he flips the bacon one-handed.
I could stay here forever.
The thought catches me off guard. Days ago I couldn't wait to leave this cottage. Couldn't wait to testify and reclaim my life. Now the idea of walking out that door makes something clench in my chest.
One more day.
Tomorrow I leave for Atlanta. Tomorrow everything changes.
But today—
"What do you want to do?" I ask.
He looks at me over his shoulder. "What?"
"Today. We have one day." I squeeze him tighter. "What do you want to do with it?"
He's quiet for a long moment. Then he kills the burner, sets down the spatula, and turns in my arms.
"This," he says. "I want to do this."
He cups my face. Kisses me slow and deep, tasting like coffee, and I melt into him.
