Chapter 2

Chapter Two

S late

I lean against the mantle, feeling the heat from the fire licking up my back, but the warmth doesn’t reach the chill settling in my chest. Emma stands a few feet away, arms wrapped tight around that damn camera bag like it’s a shield. The lodge is quiet, just the crackle of flames and the muffled sound of snow hitting the windowpanes. Outside, darkness is falling fast, the sun dipping behind Devil’s Peak, shadows stretching long across the snow-covered twin peaks, aptly named The Orphans, in the distance. Inside, it’s a different kind of dark—thick, tense, the kind that wraps around you until it’s hard to breathe.

I watch her, waiting, and she finally looks up, meeting my gaze. Her mouth twists into a tight, forced smile, but I see right through it. It’s been years, but she’s still got that same fire in her eyes. And hell, if it doesn’t twist something deep inside me.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I keep my voice casual, but there’s an edge to it I don’t bother hiding. “You still running off to take pictures of grizzlies, Emma? Or did you finally grow out of chasing danger?”

Her jaw tightens, and there’s a flash of something—defiance, maybe—before she smothers it with a smirk. “National Geographic loves my work. And last time I checked, rescuing stranded tourists wasn’t exactly safe either. How many snowshoers did you have to save last week?”

I shrug, my expression cool, but my grip on the edge of the mantle tightens. “Three. Had to call in reinforcements. The mountains don’t care how much you think you know them, Emma. They’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

She steps closer, closing the distance between us, her eyes blazing. “I can handle myself. I grew up on these trails, Slate. I don’t need you looking out for me.”

The fire pops behind me, but it’s nothing compared to the heat simmering between us. I push off the mantle, moving closer, my voice dropping lower, rougher. “This isn’t about needing me, Emma. It’s about staying alive out there. You know how fast the weather can turn.”

Her chin lifts, her lips curling into a stubborn smile, but I catch the flicker of doubt in her eyes. “You know what? Thanks for the concern, but I don’t need a guide after all. I’ve got this.”

I take another step, and now I’m right in front of her, looking down, the scent of her filling the space between us—something wild, something I’d know anywhere. My voice is barely a whisper, but I know she hears every word. “You really think I’m going to let you march out there alone? After everything?”

Her breath catches, just for a second, and I see the crack in her resolve, the uncertainty she’s trying so damn hard to hide. But then she squares her shoulders, lifting her chin even higher. “I don’t remember asking for your permission, Slate.”

My jaw clenches, frustration burning hotter than the fire behind me. “You always were too damn stubborn for your own good. But I’m not letting you get yourself killed out there.”

She laughs, but it’s short, sharp—no real humor in it. “You think I came back to town to hear your lectures? I’ve been doing just fine on my own.”

She turns on her heel before I can respond, her camera bag bouncing against her hip as she stalks towards the door. The wooden door slams behind her, sending a gust of cold air through the lodge that bites against my face. I watch her go, my jaw tight enough to hurt, my chest a knot of emotions I’ve been trying to bury for too long.

Through the frosted window, I can just make out her silhouette, disappearing into the snow that’s starting to fall heavier, thicker. Her stubbornness is going to get her into trouble—again. And I know I should let her go. Let her do what she’s determined to do.

But I can’t.

“Fine,” I mutter, my voice a low growl in the empty lodge. “You want to play it your way, woman? I’ll play. But I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

I grab my coat off the back of a chair, shrugging it on with more force than necessary. The fabric stretches tight across my shoulders, the weight grounding me, reminding me what I have to do. I know these mountains like the back of my hand. And I know Emma. She’s not as invincible as she thinks.

I slip out the back door, the cold hitting me like a slap as I step into the night. Snow crunches under my boots, the darkness swallowing me up as I move through the shadows that cling to the edges of the lodge. My breath fogs the air, mixing with the snow swirling around me, and I keep my eyes trained on the path she’s taking, her figure just a shadow in the distance.

She doesn’t know I’m here. And I plan to keep it that way.

I follow her, my steps careful, controlled, the sound of my breathing steadying as I fall into the familiar rhythm. I keep my distance, letting her think she’s alone, but I never take my eyes off her. The snow is coming down harder now, the wind picking up, biting through my coat and sending a shiver down my spine. It’s going to be a bad night out here, and she has no idea what she’s walking into.

And neither do I.

Because as much as I want to protect her, keep her from making the same mistakes that tore us apart before, I can’t ignore the pull between us—the way she gets under my skin, makes me feel like I’m losing control. The way I want to cross the distance between us, haul her against me, and kiss that stubborn look right off her face.

But that’s not why I’m out here.

I’m doing this because no matter how much she thinks she’s changed, she’s still Emma. And if I know anything, it’s that trouble has a way of finding her, especially when she’s determined to prove she doesn’t need anyone.

She reaches the tree line, pausing for a moment to adjust her bag, her breath coming out in short, visible puffs. I hang back, watching as she disappears into the shadows beneath the trees, her footsteps muffled by the snow. My pulse kicks up, the familiar adrenaline surging through me as I follow, my senses sharpening.

She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t see me.

Good. That’s how I want it. Because if she did, if she caught even a glimpse of the way I’m looking at her right now, she’d run a hell of a lot faster.

The trees close in around us, the night growing darker, the cold sharper. I can hear the wind howling through the branches, the snow piling up around my boots. She’s moving fast, but not fast enough to lose me. Not even close.

And as the storm swirls around us, the snow turning the forest into a maze of shadows, I realize something.

She might think she’s doing this alone. But I’m not letting her out of my sight—not again.

Because this time, no matter what she thinks, she’s not getting away that easy.