“Yes.”
“And that’s the entire problem?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said finally.
“I’m exploring.”
“You’re provoking.”
There was no irritation in his voice, and he still hadn’t corrected anything. That caught my attention. He was letting the truck sit in quiet chaos because I was the one who caused it. That sent warmth flooding through me before I could stop it.
I studied the set of his shoulders and his hands, still steady on the wheel even as everything around him sat just slightly wrong.
He could fix it in a second, but he didn’t.
Because of me.
“You know,” I said. “You’re allowed to fix things. To be an advocate for what you need.”
I flipped the mirror closed and shut the visor.
“It doesn’t make you controlling,” I added, aligning the vents again. “It just means you don’t like sitting in chaos. That’s not a crime.”
I nudged the thermostat onto an even number, then settled back and watched him out of the corner of my eye. His reaction was so subtle that most people wouldn’t have noticed it. The tension in his shoulders eased just slightly, and his grip on the wheel loosened. His posture became more natural.
Almost immediately, the atmosphere in the truck changed, becoming quieter.
His energy was at ease.
The road curved north, the forest becoming denser along the shoulder. Through a break in the trees, the lake appeared, placid under the morning sun. Pine Hollow came into view gradually—first the dock, then the roofline of the lodge, then the full sweep of cedar siding and stone.
I had seen it before, but arriving with him made a bigger impact.
The sunlight made the water sparkle, and in the distance, wispy plumes of mist rose up from the mountains. It gave the lodge a warm, inviting atmosphere.
I had thought it was appealing when I first researched the area. Now it felt different.
Real.
Liam pulled into the gravel lot and parked the truck. His focus moved immediately to the main building, already assessing whatever crisis awaited inside.
“You ready?” he asked.
I looked at the lodge, at the bar windows catching the light, at the dock, at the trees that ringed the property.
I had wanted space.
I had found it.
And for reasons I didn’t want to unpack yet, I was glad I was here with him.
“I’m ready,” I said.
The main lodge felt larger than it looked once you stepped inside. Cedar beams overhead. Stone fireplace anchoring the center. The bar stretched along the far wall, polished wood reflecting the morning light that streamed through the tall windows facing the lake. It smelled faintly of coffee, pine cleaner, and the ghost of last night’s whiskey.
Nora spotted us, and relief lit up her face. “Thank God,” she said, already moving toward Liam. “It’s a disaster.”
