His gaze met mine, and for once, there was no distance or guardedness in his eyes—just gratitude and something else I couldn't quite name.
We sat there for a while, sipping our hot chocolate and letting the warmth seep into our bones.The world outside seemed far away as we shared this simple moment together in the inn's cozy kitchen.
For that brief time, it felt like all the barriers between us had melted away like snowflakes on warm skin.
I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the kitchen wrapping around us."I'm assuming your grandmother's back in England?"I asked.
I wanted to ask so many questions, but I didn't want to push him away.
He set down his mug, his fingers lingering on the handle for a moment longer than necessary."Something like that," he murmured."She passed when I was a kid."
"Oh."My heart squeezed at his words."I'm sorry.Do you still have the farmhouse?"
He shook his head, a shadow crossing his face."My mother had to sell it," he murmured."We couldn't afford to keep it."
I didn't know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.
After a while, I stood up, my chair scraping softly against the wooden floor."I should… I should check on my grandmother," I said, feeling a sudden need to move."But… thank you for tonight."
He stood as well, towering over me with his presence.The kitchen seemed to shrink around him.
Before I realized what I was doing, I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek, my lips lingering for just a moment longer than they should have.The warmth of his skin sent a shiver down my spine.
"I'm glad you're here," I murmured before turning and heading down the hall.
My face felt like it was on fire, my heart racing with an intensity that took me by surprise.But for the first time in hours, maybe days, I was smiling.
Chapter11
Christian
For once in a long time, I didn't have a nightmare.Instead, I dreamt of Claire, her big green eyes looking up at me with that curious mix of kindness—the genuine kind, not the fake kindness most people employed—and determination.Her lips brushed against my cheek, soft and fleeting, leaving a trail of warmth.
I woke up feeling… content.The sensation was unfamiliar, like finding a forgotten photograph in an old book.A slow warmth spread through me, thawing the ever-present chill I'd grown accustomed to.
The morning light filtered through the worn curtains of the small room I'd rented.I lay there for a moment, savoring the lingering remnants of the dream.Her face was still vivid in my mind, her smile genuine and disarming.
Rising from the bed, I stretched, feeling the tension in my muscles ease slightly.
Downstairs, I could hear the faint sounds of life stirring.The scent of fresh coffee wafted up from the kitchen, mingling with the crisp winter air seeping through the window cracks.
I pushed myself out of bed, the dream still clinging to my mind like a stubborn fog.The room was small but functional, the kind of place where you could vanish if you wanted to.I dropped to the floor and started my routine—push-ups, sit-ups, planks—each movement methodical and deliberate.The familiar burn in my muscles was comforting, a reminder of discipline and control.
Afterward, I stood and stretched, rolling my shoulders to release the last bits of tension.A quick glance at the clock told me it was time to shower.I stepped into the small bathroom and turned on the water.The pipes groaned in protest before finally spitting out a stream that was lukewarm at best.
As I stood under the water, I let it wash away the sweat and lingering remnants of sleep.My thoughts drifted back to her.It was unnerving how quickly she'd managed to break through my defenses, even if just for a moment.
Shaking off the thoughts, I finished my shower and dressed in simple clothes: jeans, a plain shirt, and a worn jacket.The familiar weight of my dog tags settled against my chest as I made my way downstairs.
The smell of coffee grew stronger with each step.Downstairs, the inn's kitchen was alive with activity.Claire's voice floated through the air, mingling with the clatter of dishes and the murmur of other guests.
There was a sense of anticipation that hung in the air like static before a storm.It prickled at me, making me aware of how much I'd started to expect—no, want—to see her every day.But that was dangerous territory.Attachment meant vulnerability, and I'd had enough of that in my life.
As I entered the kitchen, I spotted her by the coffeepot.She looked up as I approached; her smile brightening her face.
"Morning," she greeted me with that same disarming warmth.There was powder on her nose and on her clothes.I wondered what she was making in that kitchen.
I nodded in return, keeping my expression neutral despite the flutter in my chest."Morning."
