He follows me over the edge a moment later—a long, shuddering exhale, his whole body going rigid, my name in his mouth like a truth he means down to the bone.
Silence.
The mountain light has gone from grey to gold while we weren't watching. Outside, wind moves through the pines. Inside, neither of us speaks, and the quiet is the good kind—full, not empty.
He's still half over me, weight on his forearms, forehead bowed. His breathing slows. I feel each breath like a tide going out.
I reach up and put my hand against his jaw.
The scarred side. He doesn't flinch. He goes very still, like he did the first time, that deep, careful stillness.
"Hey," I say quietly.
He turns his head slightly. His eyes find mine.
And Ronan Ryder, who says everything flat and certain and without room for debate, looks at me in the early morning light of his cabin and says nothing at all.
But his hand comes up and covers mine against his jaw.
And he holds it there.
That's enough. That's everything.
Chapter 12 – Ronan
The coffee is strong enough to cut through the fog.
I stand at the counter while Harper showers, listening to the water run and deliberately not thinking about her. My brain needs the reset. My body hasn’t caught up yet.
I spent days telling myself I didn’t do this anymore—didn’t want things, didn’t let people past the perimeter I built around my life. Then this morning happened.
Now she’s in my shower, my sheets smell like her, and years of control are scattered across my bedroom floor with our clothes.
The water cuts off.
I pour two mugs. Black for me. Then realize I have no idea how she takes her coffee, and somehow that bothers me more than it should.
She comes out in one of my shirts.
Just that. The hem hits mid-thigh and her legs are bare and her hair is wet and loose around her shoulders and she's not wearing a single other thing and my brain flatlines for approximately three seconds.
"That's my shirt," I say.
"Good observation." She crosses to the counter, takes the mug I'm holding without asking, takes a sip. Black. Doesn't even flinch. Sets it down. "You have coffee but no food in this entire cabin."
"I eat at the diner."
"Every day?"
"Most days."
She looks at me like she's cataloguing that information and filing it under things she's going to have opinions about later. I don't know how I feel about that.
Actually, I do know. I just don't want to examine it.
My phone goes off on the counter.
Judge's name on the screen. I pick it up.
