It was awkward and uncomfortable and absolutely wonderful.
Because this wasn't about technique or performance or any of the things she'd used to keep people at arm's length. This was raw and real and honest. Two people choosing each other despite the obstacles. Fitting together even when the space tried to keep them apart.
Just like us, she thought hazily. Making it work against all odds.
"I love you," Tarmek breathed against her neck. "I love you, I love you, I?—"
"I love you too."
The words came out easier than she'd expected. Natural, like they'd been waiting just beneath the surface. He froze, then pulled back to stare at her.
"Say it again."
"I love you." She cupped his face. "I love you, Tarmek. I'm terrified and overwhelmed and completely sure I'm going to mess this up somehow, but I love you."
His entire expression transformed. Joy and disbelief and something that looked like hope—like he'd been afraid to believe this moment would ever come.
Then he kissed her senseless and started moving again, harder now, deeper, like he was trying to imprint himself on her soul. When they finally climaxed—together, this time, her nails digging into his shoulders as she shattered—the bed let out an alarming crack.
They both froze.
"Please tell me that wasn't something structural," he said.
She looked at the bedframe, then at the impressive orc currently crushing her into the mattress, then back at the bedframe.
"I think you killed my bed."
"Your bed tried to kill me first."
She burst out laughing, and after a moment, he joined her—that low rumbling chuckle she loved so much.
They lay tangled together in the wreckage, snow drifting past the windows, the broken heater forgotten, her body warm and satisfied and utterly content.
This is what I've been running from,she thought.Not the pain but the terrifying possibility that someone might actually ask me to stay.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Three hours later, Edie stood in the center of the camper, surveying her belongings. It wasn't much. A few suitcases of clothes. Her art supplies. The tote bags full of chargers and sketchbooks and the random detritus she accumulated in every town she visited. Almost everything she owned fit into such a small space.
Tarmek was outside, having insisted on checking the camper's undercarriage after their... activities... had shifted it noticeably on its foundation. She could hear him muttering something about tire pressure and structural integrity.
Such a control freak. Such a meticulous, obsessive, infuriating, wonderful control freak. Who loves me.
The thought still knocked the breath out of her.
Edie grabbed a random sweater and held it to her chest, remembering how she'd arrived in Greenwood Hollow just two months ago. Detached. Guarded. Already planning her exit before she'd even unpacked.
And now?
Now she was terrified and hopeful and about to do the scariest thing she'd ever done in her life. She was going to stay. Not because the camper was broken, or because she had nowhere else to go, or because a storm forced her hand. But because she wanted to. Because for the first time in years, the thought of leaving felt worse than the thought of staying.
The camper door opened, and Tarmek ducked inside, snow dusting his hair.
"Good news. The frame held. Bad news—you really need new tires before spring."
"Maybe I'll just leave it parked."
He went still. "What?"
