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“Yup!”
Sage took his hand as they began to walk back down the ridge through the falling snow together. They smiled at each other in the fading light.
No words. They didn’t need any.
Just the crunch of their boots, the hush of flakes drifting through the pines, and the steady rhythm of two hearts that would always beat as one. Forever.
38
CAL
They stepped into the cabin still tangled in each other, boots shedding snow onto the rug, coats half-unzipped. The storm growled outside, but inside the big stone fireplace crackled. Warmth wrapped around them like a blanket, thick with the scent of pine smoke, old leather, and the faint herbal steam of soup still warming on the stove.
Sage kept tugging him toward the stairs, fingers hooked in his belt loops, eyes bright with that fierce, post-cry glow. “Come on, Daddy. Epic oral makeup sex. Right now.”
Cal let out a low, tired laugh and gently reeled her back towards the kitchen and sat her on the stool while he stirred the soup.
“Baby. We need to eat. Shower. Warm up. I’m not taking you to bed with half the mountain still stuck to us.”
She pouted—full lower lip pushed out, eyes sparkling, and kicked her feet like a brat while perched on the stool at the kitchen island. “Fiiiinnnnne. Fine.”
Cal smiled down at her as he continued to stir Mary Sue’s chicken and wild rice soup. The rich, savory smell rose in lazy curls—carrots, thyme, tender shreds of chicken.
She’s so wonderful, he thought, the words sinking bone-deep. Lord, forgive me for doubting You. For doubting her.
He set a steaming bowl in front of her. Her eyes—still a little red from earlier tears—lit up again, bright and alive. He made a silent vow right there; he would never be the reason that light dimmed. Not ever again.
They ate, quietly content in their love. After a bit Sage looked at him, her expression artificially bland.
“So…” Sage said, spoon hovering, mischief already tugging at her mouth. “Trees, huh? Not a fan?”
Cal glanced down at his bandaged knuckles, shame flickering across his face. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry for—”
She held up her hand, stopping him. “Daddy… you should know by now that shit turns me on.”
He stared at her in pure disbelief, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth. “But we were fighting.”
“Naaaah,” she drawled, grinning around a mouthful of soup. “We were having a spirited debate on why you were being silly.”
Cal choked. “Silly?” He coughed, eyes watering.
“Well, I didn’t want to make you feel bad by saying ‘fucking stupid,’ so ‘silly’ felt nicer.”
A deep, rumbling laugh rolled out of him—rusty at first, then freer. The sound filled the kitchen like sunlight after the storm. She watched him with pure adoration, cheeks flushed from the heat of the soup and something warmer.
After a quiet pause, she set her spoon down and looked at him through those stormy blue eyes. The look she gave him was pure concentrated love and lust—enough to make his ears go pink.
“Seriously though, Daddy… I’m gonna need some serious attention after dinner.”
Cal’s grin turned almost boyish as he said in a mock offended voice. “What about me princess?”
Sage leaned forward, full breasts pressing softly against the edge of the island, voice dropping into that low, velvet register that always unraveled him. “Finish your soup, baby. Then you’re going to take me upstairs and I’ll show you your present.”
Cal lifted an eyebrow, cautious but intrigued, heat already stirring low in his belly. “Present?”
She just smiled—slow, wicked, and so full of promise it made his pulse thud heavy between his legs. Outside, the wind howled harder, but in here the air had gone thick and sweet with anticipation.
“Sweetheart? Can I come in now?”
