“Yeah?”
“I’m scared all the time. I know I act like I’m not, but I am. I hate that this is my normal. I hate how much of my life I spend pretending I don’t give a shit.”
He doesn’t rush to answer. Just sets a hand on my chest, right over my heart.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he says. “Not ever.”
And maybe that’s the part that makes it all feel bearable.
It’s definitely the only reason I’m still alive.
When I open my eyes, Brandt’s closer, knees brushing mine under the water. His hand still rests on my chest, fingers splayed like he’s keeping me here, tethered, grounded.
“Why do you look at me like that?” I ask, quieter than I mean to.
He tilts his head, not moving his hand. “Like what?”
“Like I’m worth all this.” I gesture vaguely at the hot tub, the trip, the week—my whole chaotic, broken-ass self.
“Because you are,” he says without hesitation. “You’re not just what happened to you, West. You’re funny. Brave. You make things easier just by showing up.”
“You’re full of shit.”
He smiles like he knows I’ll say that. “Still true.”
I shake my head, but something in me softens. Cracks open. Like I don’t have to brace for the next blow. Like I can just sit here and let myself be wanted. Brandt’s thumb strokes my skin once, then again. A lazy circle over my heart like he’s memorizing the rhythm.
“You always do this,” I murmur.
“What?”
“Make me feel… safe. Like I could fall apart and you’d just—be there.”
“I would.”
My breath catches. He moves in slowly, like he’s giving me every chance to say no. I don’t. Can’t. When his lips meet mine, it’s not a question. It’s an answer.
Warm. Intentional. Steadying.
The kind of kiss that rewires your whole goddamn nervous system.
I thread my fingers into his damp curls and pull him closer. The water sloshes gently around us, and I press into the kiss like I’m trying to memorize the shape of this moment. His mouth, his breath, his hand on my chest anchoring me to right now.
It deepens. Turns hungry. His tongue traces mine with a soft groan that punches heat straight through my gut.
I bite his bottom lip, just a little. He laughs against my mouth, breathless and cocky, and it wrecks me.
“I thought you were dead on arrival,” he whispers, lips brushing mine.
“I’m reconsidering,” I say, tugging him into my lap, water be damned.
Steam curls between us, but it’s nothing compared to the heat building low in my belly. His hands find my waist, mine on his back, our mouths locked in a kiss that sayswe made it. That saysI see you. I want you. I’m not going anywhere.
And maybe I am tired. Maybe I still ache in every joint and muscle and bone. But I’ve never felt more alive.
Back Home
The cabin is behind us. The snow is melting off the roof of the Jeep. And my thighs feel like I just rode bareback across the goddamn Rockies.
