My eyes burn. I blink hard. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he says, and the calm certainty in his voice makes something inside me wobble. “I saw you at that gate. You didn’t ask for help until you had no choice. That’s not weakness. That’s survival.”
I swallow. “If Sophie were here, she’d know what to do.” The words slip out before I can stop them. They hang in the air, raw and ugly.
Gavin’s expression changes instantly—softening, like a door unlatching. He stops a few feet away. “You miss her,” he says.
My laugh is broken. “Of course I miss her. She was my person. And I keep thinking any second she’s going to call me like she always did, all breathless and dramatic—‘Kay, the baby just sneezed and I’m pretty sure it was judgemental.’” My voice cracks on the last word.
Gavin doesn’t rush me. Doesn’t tell me to be strong. He just stands there, steady as a mountain, and lets me fall apart in little pieces.
“I promised her,” I whisper. “I promised I’d keep him safe. And I’m trying. God, I’m trying. But everything is happening so fast and I don’t know what my life looks like now.”
I glance down at Aidan’s sleeping face—his little nose, his soft cheeks, the tiny pout that makes him look like he’s already disappointed in the world.
“Sometimes I look at him and I’m so terrified I can’t breathe,” I admit. “Because what if I can’t do this? What if I’m not enough? What if Sophie chose the wrong person to make that promise?”
Gavin’s jaw tightens, and he takes another step closer. “You’re enough,” he says, voice low. “And you’re not doing it alone anymore.”
A laugh tries to bubble out of me—nervous, disbelieving. “That’s the part that scares me.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “Why?”
I hesitate. I hate this. I hate feeling things. I hate that the moment I stop moving, emotions catch up and tackle me to the ground. “Because I’ve never…,” I begin, then stop.
Gavin’s gaze stays steady. Patient. “Never what?”
I bite my lip, heat rushing into my face. “I’ve never been in love.”
The words feel ridiculous. Too big. Too dramatic.
But they’re true.
I’ve never even let myself get close enough to someone for that to be possible. Dating always felt like stepping near the edge of a cliff—everyone else leaning over, giggling, while I stood back thinking,No thanks, I enjoy having a spine.
And now?
Now I’m standing in a cabin on a mountain, whispering confessions to a man I met yesterday.
My cheeks burn hotter. “I’ve never even… kissed anyone.”
Silence.
My eyes flick up to Gavin’s, bracing for surprise. For disbelief. For him to laugh.
He doesn’t.
He goes still, like the air itself changed.
Then his voice drops, careful. “Tonight was your first kiss.”
I nod once, mortified.
Gavin swears softly under his breath—not angry. Something else. Something like reverence. Like restraint. He takes a slow breath. “Why?”
I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. Life was busy. Sophie and I… we grew up fast. Took care of things. I never met someone who felt safe. And then after she had Aidan, I was focused on them, on money, on work—” I swallow. “On surviving.”
His eyes hold mine. “And now?”
