Chapter 6

Chapter Six

S late

Snow piles against the window, turning the night into a white blur. But inside, the fire crackles low, filling the space with flickering shadows that dance across the floor and lick at the rough wooden beams overhead. I lean back against the hearth, letting the heat seep into my bones, but it does nothing for the tightness coiled in my chest.

I keep my eyes on Emma, sitting across the room, the blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders like she’s trying to keep out more than just the cold. She’s staring into the flames, her face shadowed and tense, her expression the kind that warns me she’s holding back a storm of her own. It’s been hours since either of us spoke, the silence thick with things left unsaid. But I can’t ignore the pull between us—the way it stretches taut, unbroken by time or distance.

“Remember those nights by the lake?” My voice cuts through the quiet, rougher than I mean it to be. “When we’d stay out there until dawn, talking about everything we wanted to do?”

She looks up, surprise flashing in her eyes before she hides it behind that cool, practiced mask. She doesn’t answer right away, but when she does, her voice is softer than I’ve heard in years. “Yeah. I remember. You used to say you’d build a cabin out here one day, live away from everyone.” A small smile tugs at her lips, but there’s a sadness in it that digs into me. “Guess you got your wish.”

Her words hit like a knife twist, but I keep my expression steady. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, refusing to let her look away. “And you—you wanted to see the world. Shoot for those big magazines, win awards. Hell, you talked about it like you’d be gone for a lifetime.”

Emma’s smile falters, her gaze slipping back to the fire like she’s looking for answers in the flames. “Maybe I thought I had to be gone that long to figure things out.”

There’s something in her voice that tugs at the wound I thought I’d buried, the one she left behind. I can hear the unspoken regrets, the pain she’s not willing to put into words. But I can’t let it go. Not now. “So why’d you do it, Emma?” I press, needing to understand, to unravel the mystery that’s haunted me for too damn long. “Why leave without a word?”

Her shoulders tense under the blanket, and she pulls it tighter around herself, like she’s trying to build a wall between us. “It wasn’t that simple, Slate,” she says, but there’s a crack in her voice, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

I push myself up, crossing the small space between us in two steps until I’m standing right in front of her, looking down, forcing her to face me. “Then explain it to me. Make it make sense, because for the life of me, I still don’t get it.”

She looks up, meeting my eyes, her own gaze flashing with something raw, something that cuts deeper than the cold outside. “You think I wanted to leave? You think I wanted to—” Her voice breaks, and she bites her lip, fighting to hold back whatever she’s feeling. But I see it there, in her face, in the cracks she’s trying so hard to keep hidden.

I crouch down in front of her, close enough that I can see the way the firelight catches the gold in her eyes, feel the heat of her breath against my skin. I drop my voice, roughened with frustration and something deeper, something I don’t want to name. “Tell me, Emma. I’m right here.”

Her eyes flick to my mouth, lingering there for a beat too long before she catches herself and looks away. Her lips press together, but the words spill out anyway, a confession dragged out by the shadows between us. “I was scared, okay? I was scared that if I stayed, I’d hold you back. That I’d never find out if I could make it on my own.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, a tear slipping free before she can catch it. Without thinking, I reach out, brushing the tear away with my thumb, letting my touch linger against her cheek. The softness of her skin under my fingers makes something twist in my chest, something that’s been wound too tight for too long.

Her eyes snap open at the touch, and the air between us shifts, charged with a tension that’s as undeniable as it is dangerous. My thumb grazes her cheek, and her breath hitches, her gaze locking with mine like she’s searching for something she’s afraid to find.

“Slate...” Her voice is barely a whisper, her lips parting, and for a heartbeat, the rest of the world falls away—just the two of us, the fire’s warmth pressing against our skin, the storm raging outside like a distant echo.

I lean in before I can stop myself, drawn to her like a magnet, my lips brushing against hers—tentative at first, a question, a hesitation. But the second she responds, tilting her head and pressing closer, the kiss deepens, a spark turning into a flame.

Her fingers clutch at the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, and I slide my hand into her hair, feeling the softness of it slip through my fingers as I taste the longing we’ve both kept buried. The kiss is rough, desperate, a clash of need and regret, both of us pouring years of unsaid things into the way our mouths move together.

She tastes like everything I remember—sweet and wild, with a sharp edge that’s all her own. It sends a rush through me, igniting something I’ve tried to smother since the day she walked out of my life. My hand cups the back of her head, angling her closer, wanting more, needing more, even though every part of me knows this is dangerous, that it’s too much, too fast.

But then she pulls back, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps, and I feel the loss like a punch to the gut. I rest my forehead against hers, struggling to catch my breath, the air between us hot and heavy with everything we’re not saying. Her fingers are still tangled in my shirt, and I don’t pull away, don’t let the distance grow.

“That doesn’t change anything, does it?” she whispers, her voice raw, trembling with the weight of it.

I close my eyes, my jaw clenching against the ache that sits too close to the surface. I force myself to let go of her, to step back even though it feels like tearing out a piece of myself. The cold rushes in where her warmth was, and I drag in a breath, trying to steady the pounding in my chest. “I don’t know, Emma. But it sure as hell complicates things.”

She watches me, her eyes wide, her lips swollen from the kiss, but there’s a wariness there, a fear that mirrors my own. And for once, I don’t have the right words, don’t know how to fix this. The storm outside howls louder, but it’s nothing compared to the storm between us, swirling with everything we’ve never said, everything we can’t take back.

I take another step back, trying to put some space between us, but the tension snaps tight again, like a live wire that refuses to let go. She shifts on the bed, her hands dropping into her lap, her gaze falling away from mine. The fire crackles, and the shadows stretch long across the floor, drawing out the silence until it feels like it might swallow us whole.

“I guess we’ll see what happens when the storm’s over,” she murmurs, but there’s a fragility in her voice, like she’s afraid of what the answer might be.

I nod, even though I don’t trust myself to speak, don’t trust myself not to close the distance between us again. Because whatever this is, whatever we’ve just unleashed, it’s not going to be simple. It’s going to tear us apart, or it’s going to change everything. And I don’t know which one scares me more.