The silence that followed was deafening.
That night they lay in the darkness for hours, close enough to touch but miles apart.
She could feel his presence beside her, a furnace of heat in the cold cabin. He’d rebuilt the fire before they settled into the furs, but he hadn’t reached for her. He hadn’t pulled her against his chest or wrapped his arm around her waist. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, and the distance between them felt like an ocean.
She should have been angry. Part of her was angry—at him for pulling away, at herself for not fighting harder, at the universe for putting them in this impossible situation. But mostly she just felt hollow, scraped out, too exhausted for rage.
Maybe you’re right.
She wished she could take the words back. They’d been cowardly, a surrender rather than an argument. But his doubts had taken root.
She didn’t know if this was real. Everything she’d ever known about love came from books and observation. She’d watched her father love her mother’s memory, seen the way his eyes softened when he spoke about her. She’d read stories of grand romance, of passion that transcended circumstance and defied expectation. But she’d never felt it herself—not until Rykan. Not until she’d opened her eyes in that escape pod and seen those golden eyes watching her.
Her need for him, her desire to be with him, was that love? Or was it just… proximity? The natural result of two lonely people trapped together, finding comfort in each other because there was no one else?
It’s more than that,her heart insisted.I know what I feel when he looks at me. When he touches me. When he whispers my name like it’s something sacred.
But her mind countered with cold logic.I’ve never had anything to compare it to. How can I be sure?
She couldn’t. That was the truth she’d been avoiding. She couldn’t be sure, and asking Rykan to claim her—to bind himself to her permanently—when she wasn’t certain seemed like the cruelest thing she could do.
He deserved someone who was sure. Someone who could promise him forever without hesitation. Someone who wasn’t already planning to leave.
The fire crackled in the hearth. Outside, the storm still raged, wind howling against the walls like a living thing. She lay still and listened to him breathe, and wondered if this was what heartbreak felt like.
Morning came grey and quiet.
She woke to find the space beside her empty, the furs still warm where Rykan had been. She sat up slowly and looked around the cabin.
He was by the window, staring out at the fresh-fallen snow. The storm had passed sometime in the night, leaving behind a world transformed—everything buried under feet of pristine white, the trees bowed low under their burden, the sky a pale silver-blue that promised sunshine to come.
“You’re awake.”
His voice was neutral. Careful. The voice of a man who had rebuilt his walls overnight and was determined to keep them standing.
“Yes.” She pulled one of the furs around her shoulders and rose, crossing to stand beside him. The view was beautiful—stark andwild and utterly inhospitable—but she barely saw it. All her attention was focused on the male beside her, trying to read the tension in his shoulders and the set of his jaw. “Did you sleep?”
“Some.”
A lie.She could see the shadows under his eyes, the weariness in the lines of his face. He’d spent the night awake, probably arguing with himself the same way she had, reaching the same impossible conclusions.
We can’t go back,she thought.Not to how things were before. Everything’s different now.
“I need to hunt.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, his eyes still fixed on the snow. “The storm will have driven game down from the higher peaks. It’s a good opportunity.”
“I could come with you.” The offer was automatic, an attempt to bridge the distance between them. “You’ve been teaching me to track. I could?—”
“No.” The word was sharper than necessary, and he caught himself, softening his tone. “The terrain will be unstable. Snow drifts covering crevasses. I can move faster alone.”
Alone.The word echoed in the silence.
“How long will you be gone?”
“A few hours. Maybe longer, depending on what I find.” He finally turned to look at her, and she saw the careful blankness in his expression—the mask he wore to hide whatever was happening beneath. “You’ll be safe here. Keep the fire going and stay inside.”
She wanted to argue. She wanted to demand that he stop running away from her, stop using excuses to avoid the conversation they needed to have. But the words stuck in her throat, trapped behind a wall of pride and hurt.
I told him maybe he was right,she reminded herself.I gave up. I don’t get to be angry that he’s acting accordingly.
