That answer lands like a hammer to my heart. I roll closer, fitting into him and placing my palm over his bare chest.
“I stayed because you’re where I want to be.”
His eyes search mine, raw and unguarded, and for a second, I think there’s
more something he needs to say. My pulse kicks up speed because I’ve felt it all night—the silent pledge of his secrets. He wouldn’t have told me if this thing wasn’t everything.
Instead, he exhales, slow and shaky, pulling me into his chest like he’s memorizing the feeling, and blows out a breath. And it leaves me feeling unsure when he doesn’t say more. But tonight’s been emotional and if he’s going to any declaration thatwill change us forever, he’s got to be sure, not caught up in the high of the release.
His breathing slows before mine does.
But I stay awake a little longer, making sure sleep takes him peacefully.
Emmett Slate falls asleep with his hand spread over my ribs like he’s making sure I stay.
Losing people has haunted him his whole life, and tonight he finally let me see how deep that runs.
Knowing the worst thing that’s ever happened to him doesn’t make me want him any less.
It makes me understand him more.
CHAPTER
FORTY-SEVEN
EMMETT
The early morning light creeps through the curtains, hitting me in the eyes.
Next to me, Aspen sleeps peacefully, and I can’t help the smile that tilts my lips as a few seconds of watching her stretches into minutes.
I sit up beside her.
She has one arm thrown over the spot where I slept. My hoodie swallowed her whole sometime during the night, and her hair is a tangled mess across my pillow.
She fits here.
And not just in the camper or on this land, but in my life.
I push a hand through my hair and slip from the bed before I’m selfish and wake her. Because looking at her right now, all I want is more of her.
Quietly, I pull on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Grabbing a few essentials from the tiny kitchen, I shove my feet into the old shoes by the door and ease outside.
It’s a miracle the hinges don’t squeak.
The morning air is cool enough to bite. The kind of mountain morning that makes you appreciate a warm cup in your hands.
I drag a chair toward the firepit, strike a match, and coax the flames to life. With it going, I hang a kettle above the fire and wait as the valley wakes slowly around me.
For once, my mind is quiet.
It’s just me and the crackle of the fire.
All because of the woman sleeping twenty feet away, in my bed.
Pouring myself a cup of hot water, I add instant coffee. It’s nothing like the fancy brew at Aspen’s but out here, it works.
I wrap both hands around my coffee mug and watch the sun crawl over the mountains. As I do that, I think about a future that doesn’t feel like something happening to me, but something I want.
