“You could hit town tomorrow,” I offer, the words tumbling out automatically—anything to fill the silence. “Get proper boots. Breaking them in will suck, but it’ll beat what you’re wearing now.”
She scoffs softly. “Won’t need them after this vacation. No mountains in Lincoln Heights.”
“Right.” I nod, and the word tastes like lead. The urge rises again to ask her to stay for more than this little vacation of hers, but I choke it down. “What’s the plan when you go back?”
More silence. She drinks her water slowly, drawing it out.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, the movement tired. “Find something stable, I guess. Maybe look somewhere more affordable. I’ve been trying not to think about it.”
The microwave hums as I lean against the counter. My thumb taps against the surface—I don’t realize I’m doing it until her gaze flicks toward me. The worry’s back in her eyes, deeper now. I did that. Brought up the one thing she’s trying to escape.
How do I fix this?
“What can I do to help?”
She blinks, head tilting in confusion.
“To make you stop thinking about it.” I set the soup in front of her, the words coming out rougher than intended. “I want to help.”
I need her to smile again. Really smile. Need her eyes to meet mine without flinching away. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay for it.
Her lips part, surprise softening her features. That pink flush deepens, spreading across her cheeks.
“I liked the hike. To the pond.” She’s studying the table now. “Earlier… I couldn’t think about anything but…”
When she breaks away this time, it’s not discomfort I see—it’s embarrassment. She’s still thinking about it, too.
“You want—” I’m stumbling, reaching for the right words. Hoping I’m not misreading this. She confirms it with the smallest dip of her chin.
“It was a nice distraction.” She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, holding me in suspense until I’m ready to beg. Then—“I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”
Every thought about letting her go, about protecting myself, about being smart—gone. Evaporated. Especially when she lifts her gaze, fear making it heavy.
“Unless you hated it. Earlier, you left so quickly that I—”
“I didn’t hate it.”
The truth comes out in a heavy rumble, torn from somewhere deep. No wonder she hid in her room. I should’ve checked on her during the hike back, should’ve paid attention. God, I’m an asshole. I need to learn how to stop hiding behind silence.
But I can’t exactly tell her what I really wanted to do out there, can I? Even I’m not that bold.
“Not in the slightest.” I push the words harder, wanting her to believe them. “Yeah. I can do that. If it helps.”
It’ll be torture—wanting more, taking what I can get—but for her? I’ll suffer through it. Just as I’m resigning myself to that fate, I catch it. The small curve at the corner of her mouth. Shy. Real.
I force myself to pull back before I get greedy. She needs to eat, needs her strength.
“We’re getting those boots tomorrow.” I hold up a hand before she can argue. “I’m buying them. That way it’s not a waste.”
Being trapped in this cabin with her—with what she’s asking of me—is a dangerous prospect. I don’t know how long I’ll last just thinking about it.
I settle across from her, watching relief wash through me as she takes a few bites.
“I’m being a handful.” She pauses, grimacing. “Definitely disturbing your peace. I think I’m becoming a rule breaker.”
She has no idea. She’s turned my quiet world inside out, made everything complicated. Made me want things I have no business wanting. And I can’t find it in me to care.
“I don’t mind.” I flick a finger toward her bowl. “Don’t worry about me. Eat it all before it gets cold.”
