I’m not sure I’ll leave at all.
And the reality of our situation hasn’t changed. She’s still my best friend’sdaughter. I’m still a grumpy, damaged mountain man who has no business corrupting an innocent young woman. This still can’t happen.
I pull on my clothes quietly and step out into the cool morning air. The world feels fresh and clean, like all our sins were washed away with the storm.
I head to the workshop with a knot in my chest that has less to do with guilt for the lines I crossed and a whole lot more with how badly I want to turn around and go right back into that bed with her, because I’ve never felt more whole than I did waking up with her in my arms.
And how dangerous that makes her.
Tessa
I wake slowly, my body heavy and loose in a way that’s unfamiliar but not at all unpleasant.
For a few seconds, I don’t move. I just lie there, letting my eyes adjust to the morning light and staring up at the wood-beamed ceiling of the cabin, cataloguing the unfamiliar sensations in my body.
The dull, pleasant soreness between mylegs. The deep warmth curled low in my belly. The way every single part of me feels boneless and the deep contentment inside me, like I’d just slept better than I had in years.
Maybe ever.
Because I had.
Sleeping next to Holt, with his arms holding me tight, my head on his hard chest, the warmth of him curling around me, made me feel safe and protected in a way I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
I roll to my side and instinctively reach for him.
My hand meets cold sheets.
For the first time, themorning-afterblissful cloud I’ve been floating in dissipates, and my eyes open wide to confirm what I already know.
He’s not there. The bed is empty. The space beside me feels too big, too quiet.
I should probably feel some sort of way about the fact that he left before I woke up, but I don’t panic. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of what we did the night before.
It was so good. So perfect. So… everything.
And I know he felt it, too.
Holt isn’t here with me now, but I knowin my heart he’d been there all night after carrying me into his bed, where he’d wrapped me up tight against him as if I were the most precious thing he’d ever held in his arms.
My chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with exactly how right it felt to sleep next to him.
I sit up slowly, tugging the sheet around me, my body still humming. Everything feels different this morning, like something inside me has finally shifted and settled into place.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pad into the shower, letting the water run hot before I step under the stream. I take my time, letting the warm water wake me fully, easing the last bit of tension out of my muscles before I wrap myself in a fluffy towel and twist the taps shut.
As I dress, my thoughts keep circling back to him. The way he owned my body so completely. The pleasure he’d pulled from me so easily. The way he’d held me so tenderly afterward. As if I meant something. As if I were important.
I twist my long, wet hair into a braid that falls down my back and find a fresh pair of leggings to tug on. But instead of reachingfor my own sweater, I pull one of Holt’s button-down flannel shirts from the closet and slide it over my head. It’s way too big, falling to mid-thigh. More like a dress than a shirt, but without him there to wrap his arms around me himself, it’s the next best thing.
In the kitchen, I find the coffee grinder and set about making a fresh pot. Soon, the smell of the brew fills the air, but the cabin still feels empty.
I half-expected that Holt would appear with some fresh logs for the fire, but when the coffee’s ready and he’s still not there, I know there’s only one other place he could be.
I pour two mugs, wrapping my hands around the warmth, and head for the door. The rain stopped overnight, leaving the forest clean and fresh. A low layer of fog lingers in the treetops, making everything feel mystical and romantic.
My heart beats a little faster as I head toward the workshop. Not because of nerves, but out of anticipation.
Whatever Holt thinks he’s doing by trying to put distance between us, I already know one thing for sure.
