“Last night scared me,” I admit quietly.
His hand stills on my back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …”
“No, not like that.” I lift my head to look at him. His hair is sticking up in about fifteen directions, there’s stubble darkening his jaw, and those hazel eyes are soft with concern. “I mean ... when I saw you. When I realized you could have been hurt. It scared me how much I cared.” Something shifts in his expression. Softens and intensifies at the same time.
“Sloane ...”
“I know we said this was just fun,” I continue, my heart racing. “No strings, no expectations. Just two people stuck in a storm. But I don’t think I’m very good at casual, Jax. I thought I could be, but …” He cuts me off with a kiss. Not hungry or demanding like before. Tender. Sweet. Devastating in its gentleness. When he pulls back, his hand comes up to cup my face.
“I’m not good at casual either,” he admits, his thumb stroking my cheek. “I tried to tell myself this was just helping you get over your ex. Just having fun while we waited out the storm. But Sloane ...” He takes a breath. “You’re not casual. Not to me.”
My heart does that stupid flipping thing, except it doesn’t feel stupid anymore. It feels right.
“What are we doing?” I whisper.
“I don’t know.” His eyes search mine. “But I know I don’t want to stop.”
“Even when the storm ends. Even when we must go back to real life?”
“Especially then.” He leans his forehead against mine. “I live two hours away, Sloane. That’s nothing. That’s easy. If you want ... if you want to try this. Really try.” The hope in his voice undoes me completely.
“I don’t know …” I tell him honestly, and I see something flicker in his eyes. Hurt, maybe. Or fear. “I want to, Jax, but …”
“I understand.”
“You do?” I’m surprised. He nods. “I’m worried that what we’ve created here is the blizzard talking. Us getting caught up in something that feels amazing right now but falls apart when we’re back in the real world.” I take a shaky breath. “I don’t want to lose myself again. I did that with Chett. I made myself smaller and smaller until I didn’t even recognize who I was anymore. And now, here I am, not long after leaving him, already caring for someone else. What does that say about me?”
“It says you’re human,” Jax says firmly. “It says you’re capable of moving forward. Of opening yourself up even after being hurt. That’s not weakness, Sloane. That’s strength.”
“Or stupidity.”
“Or bravery.” He kisses my forehead. “Look, I’m not asking you to have all the answers right now. I’m not asking you to move in with me, or marry me, or make any big decisions. I’m just asking ... can we see where this goes when we’re not snowed in?”
I want to say yes. Want to throw caution to the wind and just let myself fall completely. But the fear is still there, tight in my chest.
“Can I think about it?” I whisper. “Is that okay?”
Something in his expression softens. “Of course it’s okay. Take all the time you need.” He pulls me back against his chest, his arms wrapping around me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
We lay like that for a while, and slowly, the tension in my body eases. Maybe I don’t have to have all the answers right now. Maybe it’s okay to just be uncertain.
“The storm sounds like it’s calming down,” I observe eventually.
“Yeah. Probably won’t be long before the roads are clear.” His hand traces lazy patterns on my back. “What do you want to do today?”
“I don’t know. Something normal. Something that doesn’t involve life-altering decisions or emotional confessions.”
He chuckles. “I think I can manage that. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Pancakes?”
“You’re going to spoil me with all this cooking.”
“That’s the plan,” he says, and there’s something in his voice, something warm and promising, that makes my chest ache all over again.
After breakfast, we end up on the floor in front of the fire with an old, battered Monopoly set Jax found in a closet.
