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“I get that.” More than he knows. Back when we exchanged our last letters, my mom was still battling her illness. “I wish I could have met them. They sounded like people you’d want to know in your lifetime.”

Oliver lets out a chuckle heavy with sadness. “I wish you could have met them too. They would have adored you. They already did, from what they knew about you.”

I look down at our intertwined fingers, not wanting Oliver to see what his words are doing to me, how hard they tug at my heart.

There’s a thin scar drawn on his skin, running from the base of his thumb to his index finger. “What happened?” I ask, stroking the white line.

He lowers his gaze there too. “Woodworking accident.”

“You’re still doing that?” I murmur, not trusting my voice not to falter.

“I am. Do you . . . Do you still have . . .”

I release my hand from his and unzip my jacket. Oliver follows my movements with deadly precision, his Adam’s apple bobbing along the column of his neck as I pull the necklace from under my sweater with trembling fingers.

Even after all these years, after all he’s done, I’ve never been able to bring myself to part with it. Oh, I’ve tried, but it was like ripping out a part of myself. I felt so hollow without it.

“Charlee . . .” Oliver stretches his hand toward my neck as if he doesn’t trust that the pendant is really there but stops just inches away from touching me. He closes his fingers around thin air before letting his hand land softly on the log. “I thought you’d have thrown it away the first chance you got.”

I stroke the bear. “Oh, I did.” I look down at the places that have worn away over time. “But then I always picked it back up.”

He lets out a hushed laugh, his hair swishing across his forehead with the movements of his head. “I didn’t think I’d see it again.”

He reaches out again, and this time, he doesn’t pause. He brushes my hair away from my collarbone with a gentleness that squeezes my throat and leaves me breathless. Slowly, he curls his fingers around mine, his eyes riveted on the pendant, as we’re both holding the small wooden bear.

“I spent hours crafting it, perfecting it,” he murmurs hoarsely. “And just as many imagining it around your neck, what it would be like to see it with my own eyes.”

“And?” I rasp.

“It’s mesmerizing.”

He raises his eyes to mine.

For a breath, I'm enthralled by the intensity of his gaze, and I can’t look away, sucked in by his effortless magnetism.

I want to lose myself in the rich brown of his irises, surrender to his warmth, and ask him to tell me what else he imagined when he thought of me, and if he spent as much time doing it as I did.

But something passes on his face, too quick for me to catch it, and I’m released from his hold with a snap.

The spell is broken.

I let go of the pendant and clear my throat for the millionth time tonight. Oliver retrieves his hand, and I swiftly tuck the necklace under my sweater again. A shiver runs down my spine.

“Are you cold?” His voice touches my skin like a soft caress.

I nod, not trusting myself to say more with the charged air flowing between us.

He opens the blanket wrapped around him, his arm extended in an invitation to join him. Sensing my hesitation, he says, “You’re cold. This is just that and nothing more. I promise.”

I look at the small space next to him, and after a moment, I slide across the log, my leg grazing his as I come to his side. It’s barely a touch, yet it feels like it’s burning a hole through my clothes. When I’m fully tucked against him, Oliver drapes the blanket over me, even though it doesn’t even feel like I need it anymore.

Every place my body touches his, my skin is burning, and his pine and musky scent does nothing to soothe my mind from his intoxicating grip. My muscles tense as I try to resist the call to lean against him. If I yield, I’ll never forgive myself. But I can’t help it. His solid, sturdy frame brings me a comfort I’ve never needed before.

What else would I discover if I allowed myself to indulge just a little more . . .

“You know what?” Oliver snaps his fingers, and I jump out of my reverie. “They sell s’mores packages at the lodge.” He picks up a package next to him and offers me a cheeky grin. “Want to make some with me?”

I wonder if he can see the steam coming off me as the coldest bucket of water douses over my scorching body.