“You’re giving me too much credit.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough,” I insist. “Are you asking me because you need a ride or because you want me to go?”
“I want you there.”
I melt into him when his lips graze my temple. “Then it’s settled.” The knot in my chest loosens. Not just because I can do something for him, but because he’s letting me. “When do you want to go?”
“I should be cleared to drive at my appointment tomorrow. We could go after that. There’s a few things I need to do while I’m there but we should be able to do it all in one day. I’m going to bring the van back with me so you and Atlas aren’t forced to cart me around.”
Freedom and control—two things paramount to Emmett’s comfort—and still, the thought of him getting the van back leaves an ache in my chest. It’s the first real step toward him reclaiming the life waiting for him outside Timberline Peak.
Outside of me.
I hate that part of me already misses him for it.
I force a smile. “Tomorrow works for me. And if your appointment doesn’t go the way you’re hoping, we’ll figure something else out.”
His shoulders loosen slightly, like he hadn’t realized he was braced for me to push back.
“Thank you.”
The soft sincerity in his voice wrecks me more than it should. Because this isn’t really about the ride. It’s about him letting me into parts of his life he’s kept sealed off from everyone else.
Before I can think too hard about what that means, I slide my hand between us, beneath the water, drawing a rough exhale from him as I settle deeper into his lap.
Right now, I don’t want to think about him eventually leaving Timberline Peak; I just want him here.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
EMMETT
My cheeks are cool from the crisp mountain air by the time I pull back into Aspen’s driveway and spot her standing where the Jeep is normally parked, two mugs of coffee in her hands.
At the rumble of the engine, she turns, and her whole face lights up. The smile that spreads across it is so bright and genuine I can’t help but smile back.
Her eyes sweep over me, sitting behind the wheel, watery with emotion. “You fixed it.”
“It would seem so.”
“Are you kidding me?” She scoffs. “So modest.”
I shrug. “Did you expect me to do a dance?”
“Kind of.” She laughs as I shut the engine off and climb out. “Emmett, this is incredible. Seriously.”
She hands me one of the coffees, but the warmth of the cup barely registers. Not when she’s standing this close looking at me like I hung the damn moon.
“I thought maybe we could take it up to Coyote Creek,” I say before taking a sip.
Her brows lift. “Wait, like actually drive it?”
“Well, there’s always a chance something could go wrong,” I admit. “But it survived the test run after my appointment this morning, so I like our odds.”
I don’t mention the number of hours I sank into this thing while she was working or sleeping. Or how many parts I replaced because sitting idle for years destroys a vehicle faster than driving it ever will. If Aspen knew how much work this took, she’d start trying to repay me somehow.
I didn’t do this for repayment.
