“Of course,” I say, forcing a smile.
She sits down next to me. “Are you sure?” Leaning forward, she places her hand over mine. “The last day, you’ve seemed sad.”
“I mean, it’s not like there’s much about this situation to be happy about,” I offer.
“True, but when we reconnected a few days ago, you were different. Maybe even happy, despite the circumstances. There was a glow about you.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Locklyn darting to the front door, flinging it open before vanishing outside.
I will not look over. I will not look over.
“I was just happy to see you and Dad,” I tell my mom.
She cocks her head, giving me a searching look I’m all too familiar with. My mom always knows when I’m lying. It’s creepy and some sort of mom-superpower.
“I’m sure you were, but?—”
I miss whatever Mom says next, because without even looking I know Becks has stepped into the cabin. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and because I’m weak, my gaze trails to the front door. A wave of relief spreads through me when I find him standing there, hair dusted with snowflakes, unharmed.
His expression is sharp when his gaze lands on me, holds, and then heats.
I only vaguely notice my mom patting my knee before standing and leaving the room. I think she said something about checking on my dad, who is resting in their bedroom, but I can’t honestly be sure because it’s taking all my concentration not to jump up and throw myself into Becks’ arms.
We stay like that, neither of us moving, neither of us saying a word, just drinking the other in as if it’s been months or years since we’ve seen each other instead of just a single day.
This thing between us feels palpable to me, and impossible to ignore. With how he’s looking at me now, how can he not be affected too?
What’s going on isn’t that big of a deal anyway. It’s not serious.
I flinch when Becks’ voice sounds in my head, reminding me what this really is to him.
Nothing.
Confusion draws Becks’ eyebrows together. He takes a step toward me, his mouth opening to say something, but before he can, Talon and Locklyn come bursting back into the cabin, speckled with melting snowflakes as well.
Talon has Locklyn slung over his shoulder. She’s shrieking and laughing at the same time as she tries, unsuccessfully, to punch him while upside down.
She smacks him in the butt, and he glances over his shoulder at her with a wicked smile. “If you think that’s going to convince me to put you down, you’re mistaken.”
“Fine, then I’ll bite you,” she warns, a giant smile on her face.
“Even better,” he quips.
I study Becks as he watches the interaction, looking to see if I can detect a hint of jealousy on his face, but if anything he seems amused, if not reluctantly. He doesn’t look like a guy who’s pining after someone else’s wife.
“How many times do I have to tell you two to get a room?” he asks with a shake of his head and a small smile.
“Excellent idea,” Talon says, and stomps toward the stairs leading to the second-floor bedrooms. Locklyn screeches for him to put her down, but she’s not trying that hard to escape.
They are adorable, and I can’t help laughing along with them, even as something in my heart tweaks painfully.
As their laughter fades up the stairs, the cabin falls into a hush broken only by the crackle of the fire. I’m suddenly hyperaware of the silence, of Becks still standing there, snow melting in his hair and dripping down the collar of his jacket.
He takes a hesitant step forward, and my pulse jumps.
“Haven,” he says quietly, my name rough in his throat, like it’s been waiting there for days.
I swallow hard, fingers twisting in the hem of my sweater. “You should—uh—probably warm up by the fire,” I say, instantly realizing how stupid that sounds. It takes more than a few snowflakes for him to get cold.
