I crouch down in front of her, close enough that I can see the way the firelight catches the gold in her eyes, feel the heat of her breath against my skin. I drop my voice, roughened with frustration and something deeper, something I don’t want to name. “Tell me, Emma. I’m right here.”
Her eyes flick to my mouth, lingering there for a beat too long before she catches herself and looks away. Her lips press together, but the words spill out anyway, a confession dragged out by the shadows between us. “I was scared, okay? I was scared that if I stayed, I’d hold you back. That I’d never find out if I could make it on my own.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, a tear slipping free before she can catch it. Without thinking, I reach out, brushing the tear away with my thumb, letting my touch linger against her cheek. The softness of her skin under my fingers makes something twist in my chest, something that’s been wound too tight for too long.
Her eyes snap open at the touch, and the air between us shifts, charged with a tension that’s as undeniable as it is dangerous. My thumb grazes her cheek, and her breath hitches, her gaze locking with mine like she’s searching for something she’s afraid to find.
“Slate...” Her voice is barely a whisper, her lips parting, and for a heartbeat, the rest of the world falls away—just the two of us, the fire’s warmth pressing against our skin, the storm raging outside like a distant echo.
I lean in before I can stop myself, drawn to her like a magnet, my lips brushing against hers—tentative at first, a question, a hesitation. But the second she responds, tilting her head and pressing closer, the kiss deepens, a spark turning into a flame.
Her fingers clutch at the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, and I slide my hand into her hair, feeling the softness of it slip through my fingers as I taste the longing we’ve both kept buried. The kiss is rough, desperate, a clash of need and regret, both ofus pouring years of unsaid things into the way our mouths move together.
She tastes like everything I remember—sweet and wild, with a sharp edge that’s all her own. It sends a rush through me, igniting something I’ve tried to smother since the day she walked out of my life. My hand cups the back of her head, angling her closer, wanting more, needing more, even though every part of me knows this is dangerous, that it’s too much, too fast.
But then she pulls back, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps, and I feel the loss like a punch to the gut. I rest my forehead against hers, struggling to catch my breath, the air between us hot and heavy with everything we’re not saying. Her fingers are still tangled in my shirt, and I don’t pull away, don’t let the distance grow.
“That doesn’t change anything, does it?” she whispers, her voice raw, trembling with the weight of it.
I close my eyes, my jaw clenching against the ache that sits too close to the surface. I force myself to let go of her, to step back even though it feels like tearing out a piece of myself. The cold rushes in where her warmth was, and I drag in a breath, trying to steady the pounding in my chest. “I don’t know, Emma. But it sure as hell complicates things.”
She watches me, her eyes wide, her lips swollen from the kiss, but there’s a wariness there, a fear that mirrors my own. And for once, I don’t have the right words, don’t know how to fix this. The storm outside howls louder, but it’s nothing compared to the storm between us, swirling with everything we’ve never said, everything we can’t take back.
I take another step back, trying to put some space between us, but the tension snaps tight again, like a live wire that refuses to let go. She shifts on the bed, her hands dropping into her lap, her gaze falling away from mine. The fire crackles, and theshadows stretch long across the floor, drawing out the silence until it feels like it might swallow us whole.
“I guess we’ll see what happens when the storm’s over,” she murmurs, but there’s a fragility in her voice, like she’s afraid of what the answer might be.
I nod, even though I don’t trust myself to speak, don’t trust myself not to close the distance between us again. Because whatever this is, whatever we’ve just unleashed, it’s not going to be simple. It’s going to tear us apart, or it’s going to change everything. And I don’t know which one scares me more.
Chapter Seven
Emma
The wind outside roars like a wild thing, battering the cabin walls with a fury that matches the storm inside me. The fire crackles low, casting warm shadows that flicker across the rough wooden walls, making the space between Slate and me feel both too small and too vast. I lie on the edge of the bed, the blanket wrapped tight around my shoulders, heat still simmering under my skin from his kiss. I can feel him there, close, every breath of his dragging against my nerves, like a constant reminder that I’m not alone in this tiny cabin, that I can’t escape the weight of everything between us.
I shift, turning to face the wall, trying to focus on the knot of wood in the beams above me, but my attention keeps pulling back to him. Slate sits on the floor by the fireplace, shirtless, the muscles of his back shifting in the firelight as he leans forward, stoking the flames. The light glows on his skin, highlighting the ridges and planes, and my traitorous eyes trace the path of each shadow.
It’s maddening—the way I feel drawn to him, the way my body reacts even when I don’t want it to. The memory of our earlier kiss lingers on my lips, a phantom touch that refuses tofade. Finally, the silence becomes too much, pressing in on me like the snow outside, and I give in, letting the frustration bleed into my voice.
“Do you ever stop brooding? Or is this just your default state now?”
He huffs out a low laugh, rough and edged with something that twists deep in my stomach. “Just trying to figure out what you’re doing here, Emma. Because last time I checked, you’re the one who ran off, remember? You could have gone to any goddamn mountain and yet you came to mine.”
His words hit like a slap, cutting through the warmth of the fire, and I push up onto my elbow, narrowing my eyes at him even though he’s still staring into the flames. “I didn’t run. I made a choice.”
That finally gets his attention. He turns his head, his gaze locking onto mine, the shadows casting harsh lines across his face. He stands, crossing the space between us with a few long strides, until he’s looming over me, forcing me to sit up, refusing to let him tower over me. The air crackles with something hot, something dangerous, and I feel it vibrating in my bones.
“And what about my choice, Emma?” His voice is a low growl that vibrates through me, sending shivers along my skin. “You think I wanted you to go? You think it was easy watching you walk away without a word?”
I flinch at the raw edge in his voice, but I keep my chin high, meeting his frustration with my own. “I thought it was best for both of us. I thought you’d be better off without me.”
He steps closer, so close that his breath brushes my cheek, warm and rough. His voice drops to a whisper, but there’s nothing gentle about it. “You’re wrong. I haven’t let anyone in since you left, Emma. Not one person. Because you ruined me for everyone else.”
The truth of his words slices through me, leaving me breathless. My heart clenches, pain and hope twisting inside me, and for a second, I can’t find the words. They stick in my throat, but then they tumble out, unsteady, raw. “I never stopped loving you, Slate. Not for a second.”
Something flashes in his eyes—relief, anger, a need so fierce it makes my pulse race. Before I can process it, he’s closing the distance between us, his hands cupping my face, his thumbs brushing roughly over my cheeks. The firelight flickers across his expression, all the anger and longing laid bare.
“Then why did you leave?” he demands, his voice breaking on the last word, his forehead resting against mine.
