"Don't what? Don't tell you the truth? Don't point out that you've been alone so long you've forgotten what it feels like to let someone help you?" He gestured at the scattered tools, the broken heating system, her shivering frame. "Look at yourself. You're freezing in a metal box, trying to fix something you don't know how to fix, because admitting you need help would mean admitting you can't do everything alone."
"I can do everything alone!" The words exploded out of her, sharp and jagged. "I've been doing everything alone for years, Tarmek. That's how I survived. That's how I?—"
"That's how you avoided getting hurt. I know." His voice softened despite himself. "I know, Edie. But this isn't surviving. This is hiding."
She stared at him, chest heaving, eyes bright with unshed tears. The wrench trembled in her grip.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
"I can't—" She turned away, pressing her free hand against her forehead. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to stay. Every time I've tried, every time I've let myself get attached, it ends. People leave, or I leave, or everything falls apart, and the only thing that's constant is me. The only thing I can rely on is myself."
The confession cracked something open in Tarmek's chest. He saw it now—the fear beneath her chaos, the wounds beneath her warmth. She wasn't careless. She was careful. So careful that she'd built an entire life around never needing anyone enough to be devastated when they disappeared.
"You don't have to do this alone."
"Yes, I do." Her voice broke. "I don't have a choice."
"You do." He moved closer, crowding her against the counter, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her despite the cold. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, Edie. You have a choice. You've always had a choice. And I'm asking you—begging you—to choose to let me in."
She looked up at him, tears finally spilling down her cheeks.
"What if you leave?"
The question was barely a whisper.
"I won't."
"Everyone leaves."
"I won't." He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away tears. "I am the most stubborn bastard you have ever met. I have spent my entire life refusing to give up on anything that matters. And you, Edie Anderson, matter more than anything I've ever known."
She shook her head, but didn't pull away. "You don't know that. You can't promise?—"
"I can. I am." He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing her in. "I love you. Not temporarily. Not conditionally. I love you, and I want to build a life with you, and I will spend every single day proving it if that's what it takes."
A sob escaped her. Then another. And then she was crying in earnest, her body shaking, the wrench clattering to the floor as she gripped his shirt with both hands.
Tarmek gathered her close, held her against his chest, and let her fall apart in the cramped confines of the camper she'd used to run away from him.
"It's okay," he murmured against her hair. "I've got you."
And I'm never letting go.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Edie kissed him. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. She grabbed Tarmek's face with both hands and pulled him down to her with every ounce of desperation she'd been fighting the entire week.He tasted like snow and coffee andhome. The word should have terrified her. Instead, it made her kiss him harder.
His hands were everywhere—sliding under her flannel shirt, gripping her hips, tangling in her hair. He groaned against her mouth, a low rumbling sound that vibrated through her chest and settled somewhere south of her navel.
"Edie—"
"Don't talk." She yanked at his thermal shirt. "Don't think. Just—please?—"
He understood.
Of course he understood. Tarmek had been paying attention to her body for weeks, cataloging every sigh and shiver with that obsessive precision that drove her absolutely wild. He knew what she needed before she could find the words to ask.
