She could destroy her. Easily.
Emma turned her head slightly, watching the woman still tangled in sleep beside her. Olivia’s brow was smooth for once, the usual crease of tension gone, her lips parted slightly. She looked younger like this. Softer. Realer.
Vulnerable, Emma thought.
And that vulnerability did something dangerous to her heart.
Emma swallowed, gently tracing the curve of Olivia’s bare shoulder with her fingertips. Last night had been more than heat or release. Olivia had opened up in the dark, let her see the pieces she hid from everyone else. That wasn’t just sex. That was trust.
And Emma knew damn well she hadn’t earned it yet, which meant she needed to even the scales.
Her past wasn’t wrapped in clean bows. She didn’t come from love or safety. She came from fire, burning things down to survive.
She’d built a life out here in the desert because it was the only place that matched what lived inside her. Harsh. Brutal. Honest.
And Olivia, with her white-coat polish and big-city edge, didn’t know the half of it.
Emma exhaled, slow and steady, like the breath might steel her spine.
If she wanted this, whatever this was becoming, she’d have to stop holding her past at arm’s length. No more shadows. No more pretty distractions. Olivia deserved more than a warm body and sweet lies under the stars.
She deserved the truth, even if it stung.
Emma leaned in and pressed a kiss to Olivia’s temple, soft and reverent.
She’d tell her today.
And she just hoped when she did that Olivia wouldn’t walk away…
The coffee was strong—black, hot, unforgiving. Just how Emma liked it.
She sat on the porch steps outside her cabin, one leg drawn up beneath her, the other stretched into the early sun. Olivia was beside her, legs bare and still damp from the shower, hair pulled into a loose knot that made her look accidentally devastating. She wore one of Emma’s old flannels, and the sleeves kept slipping down over her hands like she didn’t quite know how to be comfortable yet, but she was trying.
Emma handed her the second mug wordlessly, and their fingers brushed. Olivia offered a small, sleepy smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes yet but hinted that it might.
They sat in silence for a few sips, letting the quiet fill in the spaces that hadn’t yet been spoken. The air was cool but warming fast, the kind of morning where the sky looked like polished silver and everything felt suspended in its glow.
"I used to live in L.A.," Emma said finally, the words landing like pebbles in still water.
Olivia didn’t look surprised. She simply turned her head slightly, waiting. Not pushing. Just listening.
"I was in corporate real estate. Downtown towers, luxury shit. Lots of high-stakes boardrooms, fake smiles, and long nights full of overpriced wine and men who measured their worth in Rolexes and stock portfolios." Emma gave a small, bitter laugh. "I was damn good at it too. Cold, sharp, untouchable. I made money and had power and control. I had a wardrobe that would’ve made Vogue cry."
She took another sip, grounding herself in the burn.
"But it was empty. All of it. I was surrounded by people who only wanted things from me: sex, connections, leverage. My last serious relationship ended when I told her I couldn’t love her and mean it. And she told me she already knew."
Olivia turned to face her fully, legs crossing beneath her, mug tucked between her hands like an anchor.
Emma shrugged, a little more brittle now. "I didn’t know how to be soft. I still don’t, not really. I came here after I lost a deal that should’ve made me a partner. One of the guys I trained backstabbed me and sold me out to the board. And I realized, in the ugliest, quietest way, that I’d built my entire life on sand. Expensive, glittering sand. But it never belonged to me."
She paused to suck in a breath before continuing.
"I showed up at this retreat like most people do: angry, burned out, and ready to punch something. Marv made me scrub floors, and I think I cried in the garden on day three. I hated how quiet it was. Hated that nobody needed anything from me. Hated that the desert made me feel so goddamn small."
"And then?" Olivia asked softly, the rim of her mug pressing into her lip.
Emma smiled faintly. "Then I started listening. Not to the people, to me. To the part of me I’d been drowning under business cards and tailored suits and one-night stands that never knew my real name."
