GOOD?
He huffs out a soft laugh. “Better than good. You’re incredible.”
The word sinks deep, and my chest loosens.
I tap his forearm once.
Twice.
Thank you.
He covers my hand with his, warm and steady. “Let’s go home. I want you doing this with me more often.”
Home. The word lands differently now.
We walk back through the trees together.
The ground feels the same—but not. My tracks run beside his. My body remembers danger, but it also remembers this moment. The way the bear turned away. The way I knew how to ask it to.
By the time the cabin comes into view, my legs ache in a good way. My hands smell like earth and pine. My chest feels too full.
Inside, Rafe stokes the fire.
I sit on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in his coat, watching him move. The quiet stretches between us, but it doesn’t intrude. It holds.
He glances back. Smiles slow. “You were something else out there today. I’m proud of you, sweet girl. We should go tracking together more often. I enjoy your company.”
The words hit deep.
I look down, heat rising, unsure what to do with it. The feeling builds—too big, too bright, needing a place to go.
So I move across the room and place my forehead between his shoulder blades.
He stills, then eases, his hand coming up to cover mine. “You alright?”
I nod, even though it isn’t simple. I’m not afraid. I’m not calm either.
I’m… open.
He waits. Doesn’t push.
I step back and grab the paper and pencil from the table. My hand trembles, but not from fear. I nod once, then write:
HOME
Tapping my heart, I set it down between us.
His face shifts—quiet, careful, like the moment matters more than anything he’s ever been given. Looking at the paper, he picks it up and then his gaze meets mine.
He doesn’t speak, just takes my hand and brings his mouth to my knuckles. Once. Then again. Each touch slow. Certain.
The old words try to rise—wrong, broken, ruined—but they don’t stick. They slide off the page, off his hands, off the way he looks at me.
They don’t belong here.
I close my eyes.
And this time I let the feeling stay.
