His hands are on my face, as he kisses me like he’s angry at himself, like he’s trying to make up for every day he didn’t call, every word he never said.
I twist my fingers in the fabric of his shirt. The world narrows. No cars, no people, just his mouth and the heat that blazes between us.
He pulls back only enough to breathe. He rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm and uneven.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he says, voice ragged. “Didn’t matter what I tried. You were everywhere.”
I swallow hard. “You didn’t call me.”
“I know.” He drags his thumb along my cheek. “And I hated myself for it. But I have a good reason.”
I want to stay angry. I really do. But his scent—wood, clean soap, something purely him—undoes me. I tip my head up, and when his mouth finds mine again, I don’t resist.
This kiss is slower. Deeper. A surrender. He traces my tongue with his. I slide my hands over his muscular arms, the familiar planes of his back. He groans softly, low and rough, the sound vibrating through both of us.
Somewhere far away, a car door slams, a dog barks, the world keeps turning. But in this moment, it doesn’t matter. The air is thick with the kind of hunger that doesn’t feel like lust.
It feels like recognition. Like coming home.
When he finally pulls away, I’m trembling.
“Tabitha,” he whispers, my name breaking apart in his mouth.
And for the first time since leaving the cabin, I let myself stop pretending I ever stopped wanting him.
“You’re hard to surprise, you know that?”
“I’m surprised.”
He traces a thumb over my jaw. “Good.”
“But I do wish you had called, Henry. I mean, after everything at the cabin, all our talks…”
“I should have,” he says. “But I had some things to take care of. Big things.”
“Too big that you couldn’t make time for a little phone call?”
“I didn’t want to jinx it.”
“Jinx what?”
He exhales slowly. “The fact that I’m staying.”
I blink. “What?”
He slips his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About not making it a choice between us and your career. So I did something about it.”
“Henry—”
“I talked to Brad and the foundation board,” he continues. “We’re opening a satellite office here in Boulder. Outreach and mental health programs for med students and veterans. I’ll head it up.”
I just stare at him. “You’re…moving here?”
“Zach and me, yeah.” He grins. “We found a place near the foothills. Nothing fancy, but it’s got enough space for both of us. For all of us, if you—” He stops himself, jaw tightening. “If you wanted.”
My throat closes up. “Henry, your house on the Slope?—”
“Nearly killed me,” he says simply. “When the renovations are done, I’ll see if Angie wants it as a second home for her and Jason. Or maybe Sage. She doesn’t have her own place yet. But I’m ready to move on.”
