As I move into the dense underbrush, the adrenaline takes over. Every step is fueled by a primal need to get to her, to hold her, to make her understand that she can’t run from this—fromus. But then, maybe letting her go is the right thing to do. She’s barely eighteen, how could I really think we had a chance when I’m sixteen years older than her? The memory of her in my arms, of her soft gasps and desperate touches, only sharpens my determination. I didn’t just protect her because I had to; I did it because Iwantedto. Because she’s mine, whether she believes it or not.
The trail leads me deeper into the woods, the damp scent of pine and earth filling the air. I push through low-hanging branches, the ground uneven beneath my boots. Lark’s tracks are scattered, but I can tell she’s moving fast.
I reach a clearing near the edge of the river, the sound of rushing water filling the air. And there she is, her small figure huddled on a rock by the water’s edge, her shoulders hunched in defeat. She’s staring into the river, lost in thought, her posture heavy with regret.
I approach quietly, but she hears me. Her head jerks up, her eyes wide, and for a split second, I see relief flash across her face before it’s replaced by anger.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she says, her voice weak and filled with emotion.
“And you shouldn’t have left, Sugar,” I reply, my voice low but steady.
Her eyes cast up to meet mine. “I did it for you—for your family,” she says, frustration evident in her tone. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“Bullshit. Anyway, you didn’t get very far,” I say, closing the distance between us. I tip her chin, forcing her eyes to meet mine, “I could never sleep knowing you’re out here alone.”
“You don’t understand—you’re so good and I’m not worth the trouble,” she insists, her voice wavering.
I pull her to me in a possessive embrace. “You don’t get to decide what I’m willing to fight for.”
“Why, Hunter?” she demands, her voice breaking. “Why would you want to risk everything for someone like me?”
I take a breath, the words heavy on my tongue. “Because I love you, Lark,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever.”
She blinks, her eyes widening in shock, her lips parting as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispers, the disbelief clear in her voice.
I take a step closer, cupping her face with both hands, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Yes, I do,” I say, my voice fierce. “I love you, Lark. And I’m not scared of whatever comes with that. I’ll face it with you.”
Her body trembles beneath my touch, a mix of fear and longing radiating from her.
“Hunter…” she starts, her voice thick with emotion. “I love you too.”
I lean in, my forehead pressing against hers, my voice low and intense. “You’re not alone anymore. We’re both a work in progress, but at least we have each other.”
Her resistance crumbles, and she collapses against me, her hands clutching my shirt as if she’s afraid to let go.
“I don’t know how to be free,” she admits, her voice muffled against my chest.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, the relief overwhelming. “God sent me to show you what it’s like to be loved. I believe that with all of me. I was sent to protect you, Lark. You’re my purpose for breathing.”
“You really mean it?” she asks, her voice small, almost childlike.
I brush a strand of hair away from her face, my thumb grazing her cheek. “I’ve never meant anything more.”
The vulnerability in her eyes shifts, turning into something warmer, something real.
“I’m scared,” she confesses, her voice barely audible.
“I know,” I say, my voice soft but resolute. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She leans into me, her lips finding mine in a soft, hesitant kiss. It’s different from the desperate passion of before—this kiss is filled with all the unspoken promises, the hope that maybe, just maybe, we can make this work. I deepen the kiss, my hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us.
When we finally break apart, her eyes are filled with tears, but there’s a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips. “I want to try,” she says, her voice filled with a mix of fear and determination. “I want to try with you,here.”
“That’s all I need to hear,” I reply, my voice thick with emotion. “We’ll figure it out, you and me, one step at a time.”
She nods, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand, her expression softer, more open. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice filled with regret. “For leaving this morning without letting you know first—you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you.”
