I shake my head, breaking eye contact, my voice coming out rougher than I intend. “This doesn’t change anything, Slate. Just because we’re stuck in a cabin together doesn’t mean we’re—” I falter, unsure how to finish the thought, and Slate’s smirk deepens, a dangerous edge to it.
“Doesn’t mean we’re what, Emma?” His voice is a low rumble, rough and teasing, and he steps closer still, until the heat of his breath brushes against my face. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me? Like you’re remembering exactly what it was like between us?”
My cheeks flush, anger and desire twisting inside me, but I refuse to back down. “Maybe I’m remembering how much easier things were when you weren’t around to complicate them.”
His eyes darken, his hand coming up to brush a strand of damp hair from my face. The touch is brief, almost gentle, but it leaves a trail of heat across my skin that I can’t ignore. “Yeah, well, I’m here now. And I don’t think either of us can pretend we don’t feel this.”
My breath catches, my heart thudding against my ribs, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “Feel what, Slate? That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just the storm. The cold.”
He huffs a low laugh, the sound rough and disbelieving, and his hand lingers near my cheek, his fingers brushing the edge of the blanket. “Keep telling yourself that, Emma. But I think you know it’s a lot more than that.”
We stand there, inches apart, the firelight flickering across our faces, each of us caught between the urge to step back and the undeniable pull drawing us closer. I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, feel the way my body leans toward him despite myself, but I grit my teeth and hold my ground, refusing to be the one who breaks first.
Slate finally steps back, but the slow, knowing smile that curves his lips makes it clear he’s not retreating. He’s just giving me space to come to him. “Better get comfortable, Emma. We’re going to be here for a while.”
The tension snaps, but it doesn’t dissipate. It just shifts, settling into the charged air between us. I drop down onto the edge of the low bed against the far wall, dragging the blanket tighter around my shoulders, pretending I don’t notice the way Slate’s eyes track the movement.
He settles on the floor in front of the fire, leaning back against the stone hearth, his ocean blue eyes never leaving mine. The flickering light casts shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the intensity in his gaze. It’s infuriating, the way he sits there, so confident, so sure of himself, like he knows exactly how to get under my skin.
“So, what’s your plan, Slate?” I ask, my tone sharper than I mean it to be. “Wait out the storm, then play knight in shining armor and escort me back down the mountain?”
His lips curl into a smirk, and he arches an eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it. Or maybe I’m just keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t run off and do something reckless again.”
I glare at him, but he just keeps looking at me with that infuriatingly calm expression, like he’s got all the time in the world to wait me out. The cabin feels too small, too warm, like the walls are closing in, pushing us closer together even when I want to put as much distance between us as possible.
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” I mutter, shifting on the bed, trying to get comfortable, trying to ignore the way my body is all too aware of his.
His smirk widens, a flash of something dark and teasing in his eyes. “And yet, here you are, stuck with me.”
The words hang between us, loaded with a challenge that makes my pulse quicken, my skin prickling with a mixture of irritation and something I don’t want to name. He’s too close, too smug, and every part of me itches to wipe that look off his face.
But instead, I stay where I am, holding onto my pride, clinging to the last shred of distance between us. Because as much as I hate admitting it, Slate’s right about one thing.
We’re here. Together. And whatever this is between us, it’s not going away anytime soon.
Chapter Six
Slate
Snow piles against the window, turning the night into a white blur. But inside, the fire crackles low, filling the space with flickering shadows that dance across the floor and lick at the rough wooden beams overhead. I lean back against the hearth, letting the heat seep into my bones, but it does nothing for the tightness coiled in my chest.
I keep my eyes on Emma, sitting across the room, the blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders like she’s trying to keep out more than just the cold. She’s staring into the flames, her face shadowed and tense, her expression the kind that warns me she’s holding back a storm of her own. It’s been hours since either of us spoke, the silence thick with things left unsaid. But I can’t ignore the pull between us—the way it stretches taut, unbroken by time or distance.
“Remember those nights by the lake?” My voice cuts through the quiet, rougher than I mean it to be. “When we’d stay out there until dawn, talking about everything we wanted to do?”
She looks up, surprise flashing in her eyes before she hides it behind that cool, practiced mask. She doesn’t answer right away, but when she does, her voice is softer than I’ve heard in years.“Yeah. I remember. You used to say you’d build a cabin out here one day, live away from everyone.” A small smile tugs at her lips, but there’s a sadness in it that digs into me. “Guess you got your wish.”
Her words hit like a knife twist, but I keep my expression steady. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, refusing to let her look away. “And you—you wanted to see the world. Shoot for those big magazines, win awards. Hell, you talked about it like you’d be gone for a lifetime.”
Emma’s smile falters, her gaze slipping back to the fire like she’s looking for answers in the flames. “Maybe I thought I had to be gone that long to figure things out.”
There’s something in her voice that tugs at the wound I thought I’d buried, the one she left behind. I can hear the unspoken regrets, the pain she’s not willing to put into words. But I can’t let it go. Not now. “So why’d you do it, Emma?” I press, needing to understand, to unravel the mystery that’s haunted me for too damn long. “Why leave without a word?”
Her shoulders tense under the blanket, and she pulls it tighter around herself, like she’s trying to build a wall between us. “It wasn’t that simple, Slate,” she says, but there’s a crack in her voice, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.
I push myself up, crossing the small space between us in two steps until I’m standing right in front of her, looking down, forcing her to face me. “Then explain it to me. Make it make sense, because for the life of me, I still don’t get it.”
She looks up, meeting my eyes, her own gaze flashing with something raw, something that cuts deeper than the cold outside. “You think I wanted to leave? You think I wanted to—” Her voice breaks, and she bites her lip, fighting to hold back whatever she’s feeling. But I see it there, in her face, in the cracks she’s trying so hard to keep hidden.
