Chapter 5

Chapter Five

E mma

The wind batters the cabin like it’s trying to claw its way inside. Snow whips against the shutters, but the fire crackles steadily in the hearth, throwing shadows that dance across the rough-hewn walls. I shrug off my soaked coat, my fingers numb as I hang it near the fire. Heat seeps through my clothes, warming my chilled skin, but it does nothing for the cold knot sitting low in my stomach.

I glance over my shoulder, catching sight of Slate as he checks the windows, his movements precise and methodical. He’s always been like this—taking control, making sure everything’s in order. Part of me used to admire it, the way he knew how to take charge without breaking a sweat. Now it just makes me want to bite back, to push against the way he always seems to take over.

“You always have to play the hero, don’t you?” I mutter, rubbing my hands together, trying to banish the last traces of cold from my fingertips.

Slate freezes for a second, then turns to face me, his jaw set tight. “And you always have to pick a fight, even when you’re half-frozen.” He crosses the room in two long strides, grabbing a thick blanket from a shelf and tossing it toward me. “Wrap up before you catch pneumonia.”

The blanket lands in my arms, but I don’t miss the way his eyes linger on me, taking in the way my wet clothes cling to my skin. Heat flares low in my belly, unwelcome and irritating. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders, trying to cover as much of myself as possible, lifting my chin to meet his stare. “I’m not a damsel in distress, Slate. I didn’t ask for your help.”

Slate steps closer, the firelight casting shadows across the hard planes of his face. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a tension there, something that makes my breath catch. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask to be the one stuck in this cabin with you, but here we are.” His voice drops, rough and edged with a challenge that sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cold. “So, unless you want to freeze to death, you’re going to have to deal with me taking care of you.”

The air between us is thick, crackling with the same kind of energy as the storm outside. I tug the blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to ignore the way my pulse races under his intense gaze. “You always did think you knew best,” I shoot back, but there’s no real bite in my voice, just a tension that I can’t quite mask. “Still think you’re the only one who knows how to handle a little snow?”

Slate’s eyes narrow, but a half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You can try to push me away all you want, Emma. But you’re here now. And we both know you wouldn’t have made it through that storm alone.”

I want to argue, to throw his words back in his face, but the truth of them sits bitter on my tongue. My silence only seems to fuel him, and he steps closer, so close that I can feel the warmth radiating off his body, mingling with the heat from the fire. His presence fills the small cabin, making it feel even smaller, more suffocating.

I open my mouth to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words die on my lips as I catch the way he’s looking at me—intense, like he’s trying to see right through me. It’s the same look that used to make my heart race, the same look that made me fall for him all those years ago. I hate that it still has that effect on me, that it still makes something twist deep in my chest.

For a moment, the air between us thickens, heavy with things we’re not saying. The crackle of the fire fills the silence, each pop of the wood like a reminder that we’re trapped here together, with nothing but the past between us. My pulse pounds in my ears, my body betraying me with a surge of heat that has nothing to do with the flames.

I shake my head, breaking eye contact, my voice coming out rougher than I intend. “This doesn’t change anything, Slate. Just because we’re stuck in a cabin together doesn’t mean we’re—” I falter, unsure how to finish the thought, and Slate’s smirk deepens, a dangerous edge to it.

“Doesn’t mean we’re what, Emma?” His voice is a low rumble, rough and teasing, and he steps closer still, until the heat of his breath brushes against my face. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me? Like you’re remembering exactly what it was like between us?”

My cheeks flush, anger and desire twisting inside me, but I refuse to back down. “Maybe I’m remembering how much easier things were when you weren’t around to complicate them.”

His eyes darken, his hand coming up to brush a strand of damp hair from my face. The touch is brief, almost gentle, but it leaves a trail of heat across my skin that I can’t ignore. “Yeah, well, I’m here now. And I don’t think either of us can pretend we don’t feel this.”

My breath catches, my heart thudding against my ribs, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “Feel what, Slate? That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just the storm. The cold.”

He huffs a low laugh, the sound rough and disbelieving, and his hand lingers near my cheek, his fingers brushing the edge of the blanket. “Keep telling yourself that, Emma. But I think you know it’s a lot more than that.”

We stand there, inches apart, the firelight flickering across our faces, each of us caught between the urge to step back and the undeniable pull drawing us closer. I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, feel the way my body leans toward him despite myself, but I grit my teeth and hold my ground, refusing to be the one who breaks first.

Slate finally steps back, but the slow, knowing smile that curves his lips makes it clear he’s not retreating. He’s just giving me space to come to him. “Better get comfortable, Emma. We’re going to be here for a while.”

The tension snaps, but it doesn’t dissipate. It just shifts, settling into the charged air between us. I drop down onto the edge of the low bed against the far wall, dragging the blanket tighter around my shoulders, pretending I don’t notice the way Slate’s eyes track the movement.

He settles on the floor in front of the fire, leaning back against the stone hearth, his ocean blue eyes never leaving mine. The flickering light casts shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the intensity in his gaze. It’s infuriating, the way he sits there, so confident, so sure of himself, like he knows exactly how to get under my skin.

“So, what’s your plan, Slate?” I ask, my tone sharper than I mean it to be. “Wait out the storm, then play knight in shining armor and escort me back down the mountain?”

His lips curl into a smirk, and he arches an eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it. Or maybe I’m just keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t run off and do something reckless again.”

I glare at him, but he just keeps looking at me with that infuriatingly calm expression, like he’s got all the time in the world to wait me out. The cabin feels too small, too warm, like the walls are closing in, pushing us closer together even when I want to put as much distance between us as possible.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” I mutter, shifting on the bed, trying to get comfortable, trying to ignore the way my body is all too aware of his.

His smirk widens, a flash of something dark and teasing in his eyes. “And yet, here you are, stuck with me.”

The words hang between us, loaded with a challenge that makes my pulse quicken, my skin prickling with a mixture of irritation and something I don’t want to name. He’s too close, too smug, and every part of me itches to wipe that look off his face.

But instead, I stay where I am, holding onto my pride, clinging to the last shred of distance between us. Because as much as I hate admitting it, Slate’s right about one thing.

We’re here. Together. And whatever this is between us, it’s not going away anytime soon.