"Still." I nudge his shoulder with mine. "It's kind of nice knowing you'd go all caveman for me."
That gets me a full smile, the rare kind that goes all the way up to those impossibly dark eyes. "Don't get used to it. I have a reputation as an ice king to maintain."
"Your secret's safe with me," I promise on a laugh.
Arm sliding around my waist, he pulls me closer to his side. I immediately rest my head against his shoulder, and breathe him in.
His fingers trail along my side, a casual touch that still sends shivers up my spine. "Cold?" he asks, misinterpreting my reaction.
"No," I say, settling more firmly against him. "I'm good, perfect actually."
Chapter 38
Sebastian
Iwake before Mia, just as the first light of dawn filters through the cabin's curtains. For nearly a week, we've existed in this bubble of pine-scented air and starlit nights. I watch her sleep, red curls spread across the pillow, face peaceful in a way it wasn't when we arrived. My chest tightens at the thought of leaving, of returning to the reality waiting for us back in the city. But we can't hide forever, even if part of me wishes we could.
Carefully, I slide out of bed. Mia stirs slightly but thankfully doesn’t wake as I move to the window. The ranch stretches out before me, dew-covered and glowing in the morning light. This place has always been beautiful, but I've never felt its beauty quite like this, never really allowed myself to. Strange how it took bringing someone else here to make me see it through new eyes.
"You're thinking too loud again," Mia's sleepy voice comes from behind me. I turn to find her watching me, hair tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Just admiring the view," I tell her, returning to bed. I brush a curl from her face, letting my fingers linger against her cheek. "Last sunrise at the ranch."
Her lips curve into a smile that's both sad and content. "For now," she says, and the simple acknowledgment that we'll return someday makes something unfurl in my chest.
We dress and pack in comfortable silence, moving around each other with ease. I watch Mia fold her clothes with careful precision before tucking them into her bag. The raw grief that haunted her face when we arrived has softened. Not gone—I'm not naive enough to think a week away could heal wounds that deep—but she's steadier now, more herself.
The walk to the main house feels different from the countless times I've made it before. Usually, I carry a subtle tension with each step, bracing for the undercurrent of disappointment that always seems to flow beneath my interactions with my family. Today, my shoulders are loose, my breathing easy.
The scent of coffee and Ruthie's signature cinnamon rolls greets us as we push open the door. Inside, the dining room buzzes with familiar morning energy—Dad at the head of the table with his newspaper, Bradley pouring coffee, Hailey setting plates, Ruthie fussing over something in the oven.
"There they are," Dad says, looking up from his paper. The warmth in his eyes catches me off guard, like it has every morning of our stay.
Breakfast unfolds with an ease that feels miraculous given our history. Dad tells stories about my childhood that should mortify me but somehow don't when they make Mia's eyes light up. Bradley and I fall into the rhythm of brotherly banter without the edge of resentment that's tainted it for years. Even Ruthie seems different, her usual fussing softened by the genuine pleasure of having the family table full again.
Later, as Ruthie wraps leftover cinnamon rolls for us to take, I study the kitchen walls. The faded marks tracking Bradley's and my heights as we grew, the sun-bleached photos pinned to the corkboard, the slight dent in the doorframe from when I slammed through it too fast at thirteen. For the first time in years, these memories don't ache.
Outside, with our bags loaded in the trunk, the goodbyes begin. Ruthie hugs Mia first.
"You take care of yourself," she instructs, holding Mia by the shoulders. "And him too. He needs someone like you."
Mia nods, her eyes suspiciously bright. "I will. Thank you for everything, Ruthie."
When Ruthie turns to me, her hug is so tight it nearly cracks my ribs. "Don't be a stranger," she says against my shoulder. "This place needs your laugh."
"I won't," I promise, and it doesn't feel like the empty words I've offered before.
Hailey's goodbye is quick and friendly, a brief hug for Mia, a handshake for me that turns into an unexpected half-hug. "Safe travels," she says, stepping back to Bradley's side.
Bradley approaches next, his usual stoicism softened. He pulls Mia into a quick hug that seems to surprise her. "You're good for him," he says, quiet enough that I only just catch it.
Then he turns to me, and for a moment we just look at each other. All the years stretch between us—the fights, the silences, the calls I didn't return, the resentment on both sides. Then he reaches out and pulls me into a hug that feels like forgiveness.
"Don't wait so long next time," he says gruffly.
"I won't," I tell him, meaning it like I never have before. "I promise."
Dad is last, leaning on his cane as he approaches. He surprises me by hugging Mia first, patting her back affectionately. "You're welcome anytime," he tells her. "With or without him."
