Page 133 of The Wild Card

The cabin comes into view, and I forget how to breathe.

It’s beautiful.

Not in a rustic, Pinterest-perfect way. In a real way. A Crew way. It’s a proper log cabin—dark pine logs stacked and notched at the corners, a green metal roof, a stone chimney rising from the center. There’s a wraparound porch that looks out over the trees—with Adirondack chairs he must have built himself.

“Damn,” Sadie murmurs. “That man has hidden depths.”

“Yeah.” My voice comes out thick. “He really does.”

* * *

The tour is torture.

Not because the cabin isn’t amazing—it is. Every room shows evidence of the care he put into it. The kitchen cabinets he built from scratch are simple and functional. The refinished floors, warm honey oak creak softly under our feet. The stone fireplace he rebuilt piece by piece is now the heart of the small living room.

The torture is watching him show it off.

Crew isn’t a bragger. He doesn’t puff up or fish for compliments. But there’s a quiet pride in the way he points things out, explains the challenges he faced, and admits to the mistakes he made along the way. He’s more animated than I’ve seen him in months. More present.

And God, he looks so good.

He’s wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans that fit him like they were made for his body, and work boots that have actually seen work. His hair is slightly longer than usual—he hasn’t had time to cut it—and there’s color in his cheeks from the attention.

He looks like he belongs here. Like this place was always meant to be his.

“The bedroom’s through here,” he’s saying, leading Foster and Sadie down the short hallway. “Just the one for now, but there’s space in the loft for another. Eventually.”

“Where’s Emmie sleeping?” Foster asks, and I could kill him for the innocence in his voice.

“Emmie and Sadie are taking the bedroom. You are on the couch, and I’ll take the air mattress upstairs in the loft.”

“Chivalrous.”

Crew’s eyes flick to mine, then away.

We finish the tour on the back porch, which looks out over a slope of trees leading down to a small creek. The sun is starting to set, painting everything gold and orange.

“This is incredible, Crew.” I mean it. “You should be proud.”

“It’s just a cabin,” he says, but he’s almost smiling.

“It’s not just a cabin. It’s yours. Something permanent. Something no one can take away.” Just like he once told me he always wanted.

His jaw tightens. He remembers too.

“I’m going to start on the bonfire,” he says abruptly. “It’ll be dark soon.”

He disappears around the side of the cabin, and Foster follows with a knowing look that makes me want to scream.

“Subtle,” Sadie murmurs.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I will push you into the creek.”

She laughs and goes inside to unpack, leaving me alone on the porch with the sunset, the trees, and the memory of a man who once told me I’d be the girl he’d want if he was capable of wanting.