“Indie,” I interrupt, my voice firm. “You didn’t make this mess. Chad did. Your family did. You’re just trying to figure out how to live in it.”
She looks up at me, her eyes shimmering in the firelight. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you think I’m a mess?”
I don’t answer right away. Instead, I step closer, close enough that I can see the faint freckles on her nose, the way her breath catches when I’m near. “I think you’re the best damn thing to happen to this mountain in years,” I say finally. “And I think I’ve been a fool.”
Her brow furrows. “A fool?”
I nod, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. “I thought I was protecting myself, keeping you at arm’s length. But all I was doing was pushing away the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. I can see the tears gathering in her eyes, but she blinks them away quickly. “King…”
“I’m not done,” I say, my voice low. “I don’t care about where you come from, or who your family is, or what kind of baggage you think you’re carrying. I care about you. Just you.”
She steps closer, so close I can feel the heat of her body against mine. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, King,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Just you.”
I don’t wait. I close the distance between us, my hands framing her face as I kiss her. It’s not soft, not gentle. It’s raw and real and everything I’ve been holding back since the day I found her on that icy road.
Her hands grip my jacket, pulling me closer, and I can feel the tremor in her fingers, the way she’s giving herself over to me completely. And for the first time in a long time, I feel whole.
When we finally pull back, her eyes are bright, her lips swollen from my kiss.
“I love you,” the words spill out before I can stop them.
She grins, as I brush a thumb along her jaw. “Back at ya, cowboy.”
“And you’re mine,” I say, pulling her against me. “For better or worse, Indie. You’re mine.”
Chapter Eleven
Indie
The world around us is silent, save for the sound of King’s boots as he carries me into his cabin. His arms are strong and sure, holding me as if I weigh nothing at all, though my heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest. The cold bites at my cheeks, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating off him.
“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” I mutter, though the words feel flimsy against the weight of the moment. My voice is too breathy, too unsure, and I hate how easily he makes me unravel.
His eyes flick down to meet mine, dark and intense. “You think I’m letting you walk into this cabin after the way I’ve been missing you?”
My breath hitches. Damn him for saying things like that, for being so blunt and unapologetic. It should make me angry, but all it does is stoke the fire burning low in my belly.
“I can walk just fine,” I insist, squirming a little in his arms.
“Stop it, Indie,” he growls, his voice low and commanding. “You’re not going anywhere except where I want you. Understand?”
I bite my lip, the spark in his tone igniting something reckless in me. “And where exactly do you want me, cowboy?”
His lips twitch, not quite a smile but something dangerous and full of intent. “You’ll see soon enough.”
The cabin door creaks open under his boot, the warmth of the embers in the fire inside wrapping around us as he steps in. The smell of woodsmoke and pine fills my senses, grounding me, even as King’s presence threatens to undo me completely. He kicks the door shut behind him and doesn’t stop until we’re at the stairway leading up to the loft.
“King—”
“Not another word,” he says, his voice softer now but no less firm. “You’ve done enough running. Tonight, you stay right here.”
He shifts me in his arms, as he starts to climb. I should protest, should tell him he’s being ridiculous, but the truth is, I don’t want him to stop. Not now. Not ever.
