We’ve been getting along so naturally that it should feel like an obvious conclusion, but hearing the genuine pain vibrating through his rough tone catches me completely off guard.
A bittersweet ache blossoms behind my ribs, leaving me staring at his profile, utterly defenseless against how much he already cares.
The truth is, I recognize that ache because it matches my own. I've been running from the suffocating emptiness of my life at home, using this trip as an excuse to escape a house that felt entirely too quiet. I didn't climb this mountain looking for someone.
But out here, wrapped in his clothes and leaning into his warmth, the silence doesn't feel empty anymore.
Still, I can't suggest the crazy idea of staying. A few kisses are one thing, but I refuse to give in to my greed if Dawson is only looking for something temporary.
I’ve saved my heart for a reason. I believe in love—not the kind that blazes hot only to leave behind ashes, but the kind that swells and grows.
Sitting in the quiet of his porch, looking at his profile, I have to wonder if that is something I could find with a man like him?
Everything in me says it's too risky, but there's something about this man that screams everything is right.
Slipping my hand from my lap, I bridge the small distance between us and press my palm into his. I give his hand a gentle squeeze—a silent promise that, at least for right now, he isn't alone.
Neither of us speaks. We just sit there, hands linked, looking out at the peaceful sanctuary of the mountain as the rain falls steadily around us.
Chapter six
Dawson
Ishould tell Lucia how I feel. Saying I'll be lonely when she leaves is only a hint of the real truth.
Should I wait until tomorrow? The last thing I want to do is get everything off my chest, have her reject such craziness, and then be trapped in the same space as me until it's safe to leave.
The longer I have the truth resting on my chest, the harder it is to breathe. Hell, the harder it is to doanything.
The first thing Lucia does when we head back inside is check her phone. Seeing the small smile playing out on her face feels like a knife to the chest.
Even if I know she won't try to get anyone to come pick her up today, I dread tomorrow before it comes. Saying goodbye to her will be impossible. Especially when all I want to do is pull her to my chest and never let go.
I'm not going to be able to keep the words to myself. Fuck, I'm not strong enough for that.
Once she's done tapping away, she smiles as she joins me on the couch. Leaning close enough for her hair to tickle my shoulders, I have to hold back a groan. Before I can ask what she's doing, I hear her phone snap a photo.
"They want to know what kind of guy would let me stay over," she explains as she sends it off. "They'll do a whole background check to make sure you aren't a serial killer."
Looking over her shoulder at her phone, I watch in amusement as texts appear on her phone. GIF reactions of actors fanning themselves. I don't miss the light pink on her cheeks or the small smile that lifts on her mouth. Cute.
I want to kiss her.
Then I see someone in her chat ask for my name. If she asks, I'll tell her the whole thing. Searching for me online won't bring up much. Though what it will bring up is past social media pages I've long abandoned. What's on them may be a little concerning, but not in the way her friends may worry about.
Even without my name, I'm sure they'll be able to find me.
Without giving her time to ask, I'm moving in for the kill.
Flattening her on her back against the cushion of the couch and enjoying a gasp that escapes her lips as she drops her phone, it's the laugh that comes next that hits me right in the chest.
I don't think what I'm feeling for this woman is something that'll die down anytime soon.
"You should know something about me. Better to hear it directly from the source before your friends figure out the truth."
Her brows lift, and despite brushing my chest with her fingertips, she doesn't push me away. "Please tell me that you're not going to reveal that you really are a serial killer."
Snorting, I shake my head. "Worse. I'm a hermit." My smile lessens, and my eyes drift to the side. "You should know why."
