“Let this happen? There were two of us who decided?—”
“You know what I mean.”
My chest aches. “So last night meant nothing to you?”
His laugh is short. Bitter. “That’s not what I said.”
“Then what are you saying?”
He finally looks at me, and there’s regret there. Real and heavy. It turns my stomach. “I’m saying I’m not someone you should get tangled up with. And I won’t betray my sister’s trust. Not again.”
“Her out of the picture, what doyouwant?”
He stares off toward the window, gently shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter what I want. Never does.” He gets out of bed, pulls on his jeans, and walks out of the bedroom.
Aiden
I make coffee, stiff and bitter. Suits the morning. How the fuck did I let this happen?
Because I’m a selfish asshole, that’s how.
I bring her a cup, because I am not selfish enough to not share coffee, but she doesn’t take it. I leave the cup on the nightstand near her, just in case.
Harper turns away from me, gathering her clothes with shaking hands. She doesn’t rush, but she doesn’t linger either, like if she slows down even a second, she might crack. I stay rooted where I am, fists clenched at my sides, watching her pull herself together piece by piece.
Don’t cry, I silently beg her. Not because I don’t deserve it—but because I don’t think I could survive seeing it.
She doesn’t look at me again. Slips into the bathroom, comes out dressed, composed in that brittle way people get when they’re holding themselves upright through sheer will. Halfway to the door, she mutters, “Take care of yourself.”
I have no idea what to say. The cabin door closes behind her with a soft, final click. I stand there long after she’s gone, staring at the empty space she left behind, my chest burning like I’ve swallowed something corrosive.
I did the right thing. She’s twenty-two. She has her whole life ahead of her—graduation, opportunities, probably a dozen guys chasing after her.
I’m thirty-four. I’m tired. I carry ghosts and scars and memories that don’t fade. Last night, I was fucking selfish. I took something I had no business taking, and I hate myself for that.
This isn’t love. It can’t be. People don’t fall in love in one night. It’s ridiculous to think it was anything else. Hormones and loneliness and firelight doing what they do best. That’s all.
I won’t let it be more than that. I am a mistake she will think about when she’s old and gray, nothing more. She will forget me. That’s what’s best for her, for Carlie. Pretend it never happened and move on.
But I’ll never forget her.
My imagination is a bastard. Can’t stop seeing the cabin vanish in her car’s mirror. I picture her drive back to the city, tears blurring her vision. Rear-ending the car in front of her or rolling into a ditch, because I’ve responded to calls like that. She’s injured, and it’s all my fault.
Shut up, brain.
Life will go on. She will graduate, find some guy to settle down with, and start a family. She will forget about the firefighter with tired eyes and too much baggage and a bad attitude.
I’m a speedbump on her highway. Not the destination.
I am no one’s destination. Never have been, never will be. Especially not a dynamic, mesmerizing twenty-two-year-old who laughs easily with warmth and compassion. Who asks thoughtful questions. Who genuinely wants to hear my answers.
I am a selfish bastard, so I ask the universe for one more thing before packing up to leave the cabin.
My words fall on hard wood and cozy blankets draped on the brown couch. “Give her the life she deserves. Let her get out of Ohio and go someplace wonderful and have adventures and love and all the good things in life.”
It’s the favor I’ve asked the universe about other people. My sister. Accident victims who are too good for this world. Sometimes it seems like the universe is listening. Other times, I go completely ignored. I don’t exactly believe in a higher power, but I’ve seen too much weird shit in my line of work to think we’re alone in the universe.
Someone is listening. There has to be. I just hope they do what I asked.
