And that right there is the moment I realize I’m in real trouble.
Because as much as these feelings scare me, I don’t want to get rid of her.
Chapter 28
Oaks
I wake up before she does.
For a second, I don’t move.
Her hair’s spilled across my chest like her mark on me. One leg thrown over mine, warm and trusting, like she did not spend weeks pretending she was fine while Hell tried to chew her up. Early light filters through the thin curtains and paints her skin gold. Soft. Calm. Like nothing ugly exists outside this cabin.
She looks more innocent when she sleeps.
Not fragile.
Just unguarded.
And it makes me feel older than I am. It makes me feel like every year I’ve spent learning how to survive has been leading to this exact moment, where survival ain’t the hardest part.
Attachment is.
My hand rests at her waist. I don’t remember putting it there. I don’t remember deciding I deserved to hold her like that. My body must’ve done it while my brain was off duty.
That’s the problem.
I don’t do unconscious attachments.
I slide out of bed slow, careful not to wake her. She makes a small sound, like she is reaching for something in a dream, and my chest tightens so hard it feels like punishment.
I pull on my jeans and step outside into the thin morning air.
Herrington Lake is quiet at this hour. Mist hovers low over the water like something breathing just under the surface. The camp is scattered across cabins and tents, smoke starting to curl from early fires. Voices are low. Engines are still sleeping. Even the birds sound cautious, like they know something is off.
This is supposed to be simple.
Search for the missing girl. Keep the ol’ ladies safe. Keep the peace with Pearly Gates until we have proof. Don’t let the club fracture. Don’t let Bethany turn this into a circus.
Instead, I’m standing barefoot on damp wood thinking about the way Brittany looked at me last night like I ain’t a married man with a reputation for ruining things.
Holler is already outside the cabin next door when I step off the porch. Him and Lottie took it over once we took theirs. He has a mug in his hand and a look in his eye like he didn’t sleep either. They’re not newlyweds but still act like it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they announced another baby soon.
He gives me a slow nod.
No grin. No joke. No comment about walls shaking or how long it’s been since he has seen me come out of morning after looking like I actually care.
Just that nod, like he sees the shift in me, and he’s filing it away for later.
“Coffee?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
We stand there quiet for a minute, steam rising, the lake stretching out calm and deceptively harmless. Somewhere down the shoreline, a door creaks open. A man coughs. A zipper on a tent drags.
Normal camp sounds.
Except nothing is normal.
