“We had a guy come into the ER convinced he was dying.”
I turn toward him. “What happened?”
“He googled his symptoms.”
I groan immediately. “Oh no.”
“Chest tightness. Numb fingers. Shortness of breath.”
“That does sound bad.”
Dominic nods. “Except it wasn’t a heart attack.”
“Then what was it?”
He smirks slightly.
“A panic attack… after drinking six energy drinks and pulling an all-nighter playing video games.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
The road curves deeper into the woods, trees grow thicker, darker silhouettes against the fading sky. Dominic lifts my hand gently and presses a kiss to the back of it.
“We’re here,” he says softly.
The car slows and gravel crunches under the tires as he turns into a small clearing. I look out the window and a cabin sits tucked between the trees. Large log beams, wide windows glowing with warm golden light from inside, soft fog curls through the surrounding forest like a quiet blanket. Outside, string lights hang across a wooden porch, casting a soft glow over two wooden chairs and a small fire ring already stacked with logs.
It looks peaceful. Private. Almost unreal. Dominic parks the car and steps out, walking around to open my door. The cool air brushes against my skin as I step onto the gravel. The smell of pine and damp earth fills the air.
I stare at the cabin.
“Dom…”
He leans closer, his voice low near my ear. “I didn’t actually go for a run this afternoon.” I glance at him. “I came up here instead. Had to set all this up.”
“My parents’ cabin,” he says simply.
I blink, looking around again. I knew this place existed. Dominic had mentioned it once or twice over the years, a cabin somewhere in the mountains but he rarely talked about it and I had never actually seen it, not until now. The heavy log beams, stone fireplace, the quiet charm tucked into every corner. It feels like stepping into someone else’s memory.
Dominic moves casually toward the porch. “Spent the last couple days fixing it up,” he says. He gestures around. “Repaired the railing. Replaced a few boards on the deck.”
Inside the cabin, I notice the small details. The fireplace burning, fresh flowers on the table, string lights glowing softly outside the windows. But most of the place still carries someone else’s touch. Soft curtains above the kitchen window, dried lavender hanging near the door. Little things that feel carefully placed rather than decorated, his mother’s touch. Dominic had told me once she loved this place. She’d had him late, forty-one, the surprise child they thought they’d never have.
She died first. His father didn’t last long after. Heart attack, the doctors said but Dominic always believed it was something simpler. His father just couldn’t imagine a world without her. The cabin stayed empty after that. Too many memories inside these walls.
Dominic glances around the room. “Figured it deserved to be used again.” His eyes return to me. “And tonight seemed like a good reason.” My chest warms unexpectedly. Dominic smiles softly. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand. “Let me show you.”
The door opens and warm air wraps around me immediately and the smell hits me. Salmon. Fresh, buttery salmon with lemon and herbs. Dominic’s version of the dish he started making after I once said the onewe had on vacation tasted like sunshine on a plate. The scent of roasted garlic, lemon zest, and thyme fills the cabin. My stomach growls softly.
To the left is the kitchen, charming, small, but wide enough for two people to cook without bumping into each other. Wooden counters glow under soft hanging lights, and the pan on the stove still sizzles faintly, thin slices of lemon resting over the salmon. Beside it are roasted potatoes, grilled asparagus, and a small bowl of lemon butter. On the counter sits a bottle of wine. Not just any wine. Château Margaux.
The deep red label gleams under the light, one of those bottles most people only see in restaurants behind glass.
I glance at Dominic.
“That’s… not a grocery store bottle.”
He smirks.
