CHAPTER NINETEEN

Maven

I'm startled awake by rapid knocking at the front door. Lifting my head off my pillow, I barely open my eyes as I feel for my phone on the nightstand. I tap it a few times, then realize the battery is dead. The clock on the wall reads 5:15 pm.

Is it already that late in the day?

The knocking sounds again, this time louder. There are no lights on in the cabin, so I hope whoever is here will just leave, and I pray it isn't someone in particular.

"Maven? Are you in there?"

Shit.Out of all the people in this town—no, the entire world—Renn is the last person I want to see. I'm not a pretty sight, having worn the same oversized hoodie and sweatpants for a few days now. A comfy, "leave me alone" outfit donned with zero intention of seeing anyone, especially him. He knocks again, softer this time, like he knows I heard him but don't want to come to the door.

"I just want to make sure you're okay." I can hear in his voice that his sentiment is genuine, but I still want him to go.

Now you care if I'm okay? I think.

"Tash called. She's been trying to reach you."

He talked to Tasha about me? Great. What did she tell him? I wait a few more seconds, praying he will just leave, but an ache in my heart hopes he won't.

"Maven?" he semi shouts now.

Is he really not going to leave?I sit up, ripping back the covers, surprised at myself for considering talking to him as my body keeps putting one foot in front of the other. I reach for the handle, letting my hand hover above it for a few seconds before I drop it back down to my side and lean against the door frame.

"You there?" His tone is heavy with concern—concern for me.

I take a deep breath. "Yes. I, uh . . . I'm fine. My phone died. I'll call Tasha and let her know that I'm okay." My voice is scratchy, having not actually uttered a word in days.

"You sure?" His voice sounds nearer, like he's leaning close on his side of the door, causing my heart to thud loudly against my ribs. Even with a door between us, he does something to me. I wish it wasn't true, but the reassurance I feel from him being here, that presence of calm radiating from the other side of the door, already makes me feel more alive than I have in days. But I didn't ask him to come, and I don't want him to see me like this. "Maven?" I would almost say he's pleading now.

I whip the door open to the sight of him standing on the doorstep, wearing that damn jean jacket and black beanie, his motorbike helmet tucked under his arm. Even in the state I'm in, I still get a warm feeling in my belly. He looks at me with a shocked expression, which tells me he wasn't expecting me to open the door, and in all honesty, I wasn't either.

"See? I'm fine, okay?" I'm on the verge of shouting, and I want to slap myself for being so brash toward his act of kindness.

Renn surveys me for a long moment, taking me in, his gaze going up and down the length of my body. Not in a judgmental way, but making sure that I am indeed fine—at least physically.

"Thank you for opening the door," he says with a small smile, and I swear I see a look of relief flash over his face.

"Yeah, well, I'm fine, so . . ." I say, trying to sound overly annoyed, when in reality, now that I see him face to face, my legs feel weak at the knees. Or maybe that's the lack of food.

"So . . . do you need anything?" he asks slowly, like he's hinting that he actually does mean anything. I give him a narrowed look.

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

He stares at me with a crooked smile, putting his hands in his jacket pockets before leaning against the doorframe. I try to wait him out, but he looks pretty comfortable standing there.

"What?" I snap.

"Can I come in?" His demeanor is smooth, trying to make this painfully awkward situation less terrible by attempting that classic Renn charm on me, and the persuasion is working.

I purse my lips and look him straight in the eyes. "I. Am. Fine," I say in the most condescending tone I can muster and move to shut the door, but Renn puts a hand on it, stopping me. "What are you doing?" I groan, straining to push it closed, but it doesn't budge an inch.

"Can I come in for just a minute? Please?"

"No!"

It doesn't phase him as he continues to stand there, cool and collected, but now his smile is gone. The longer he's here, the harder it will be to convince him to go. I gulp, trying to swallow the tears that are forming. I'm yearning for him to come in, but I still can't seem to say what I want to—say what I really want from him. On top of all that, I know he sees right through the illusion that I'm trying to create. He can read the conflict in my eyes, the internal struggle. It makes me all the more fearful that if he really got to know me, he would regret coming here in the first place. The thought stings my heart as Renn continues to stand there patiently, like he has nowhere else to be tonight. I bite my lip, trying to think of something to say, but I realize there are no words that would leave him convinced. I back away slowly as he moves forward, closing the door softly behind himself and placing the helmet on the floor before turning to face me.

"May I?" he asks, reaching for the collar of his jacket. I nod, and he removes it and his beanie, placing them on the back of a chair at the kitchen table. His hair is messy, and the white, long-sleeve shirt he wears fits close on his body, highlighting his toned arms and chest so that the necklace he always wears is outlined underneath. I fold my arms, holding them close against my chest like they are a dam, keeping the feelings inside and locked away. "Maven, are you okay?"

No. I'm not okay, and I worry I never will be.

"I can't do this," I say, shaking my head.

"Yes you can," he says, taking a few more steps forward.

I look away from him and bite down on my lip. The voice in my head screams at me, a jumble of thoughts bouncing back and forth.

Tell him to go away. Tell him to get out. I swallow my empty words.

"I'm just going through something, and . . ." I pause. No, I won't do this, not with him. "Look, I"m not in the mood for this right now, and to be honest, I'm over this whiplash of you being here, then not here." His face looks defeated as I take a sharp inhale of breath before adding," I want to be alone, and I don't think you could ever understand the—"

"I think you're underestimating what I understand when it comes to you, Maven," he says, cutting me off. I stand, stunned. "I think I know exactly what's happening here," he says, his tone serious and commanding. I stare back at him, trying to read him—looking into his eyes that are more gray than green today. He steps closer. "I know I haven't been a good friend, and I'm so sorry about that, especially after the retreat, but I care about you. I was genuinely getting very worried, and after Tash called me . . . I had to see you. I know I'm intruding here, but I had to know if you were okay." He stops, taking a deep breath, then runs a hand through his hair before going on. "I don't know if I can be of help, but please let me at least try."

His voice is thick and deep with meaning, giving me goosebumps along my skin—as if the words now cover every inch of my body.

When I don't answer, he goes on. "Tell me to go and I will, but if there's any part of you that wants me to stay, I'll stay. I'll be here for as long or as little as you want me to be."

I inhale a shaky breath, trying to think of something to say, but my emotions betray me. "Why do you care? You don't even know me."

I immediately regret the words the second they leave my mouth because I don't mean them—not a single one. He takes a step back like the words hit him like a bullet. I'm pushing him away in anger because I don't know what else to do. I don't want him to know this person. This version of myself is ugly and unkind. I'm falling deeper into the darkness, and all I can think to do—the only thing I know how to do—is run. I turn away from him, and I start to walk back to my room.

"Maven," he whispers, and the reverence of his voice forces me to stop in my tracks.

Hearing him say my name like this pulls me back, but I don't turn around to face him. He said it with such care, and it's all I need to break, so I do the only thing I have strength or reason left in me to do: I close my eyes, drop my head into my hands, and cry.

I hear him move closer until I can feel him standing behind me.

"I can't . . ." My tears turn into full-on sobs, and I'm unable to speak through the heaviness in my chest and strain in my throat.

"I know I can't fully understand it all, Mave, but I don't want you to be alone. Please? Let me stay."

I breathe out a few sobs, shuddering as I try to speak until I'm finally able to form a word. "Okay."

I say it so quietly, I wonder if maybe I didn't say it at all, but then he moves around to stand in front of me. He isn't touching me yet; I know he's waiting for me to come to him. I may not have known him for long, but I know he would never force himself on me.

When did Renn the Stranger become the person I want to be around more than anyone?

I still can't bring myself to look at him like the coward that I am, so I step forward, covering those last few inches separating us, and bury my face in his chest. Renn instantly wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on top of my head. I embrace his warmth and the strength of his arms, anchoring against him as I cry harder with each passing second. He strokes my hair, holding me tighter as the tears keep falling. I'm lost on what to say or do, and instead, I focus on taking deep breaths, trying to control them, and each time I do, I inhale the scent of him. He smells like the forest and the rain with a hint of car grease from the auto shop, and it's so intoxicating that I can taste it on my tongue, the earthy pure goodness of him.

"I'm sorry," I choke out.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Let it out. It's okay," he says softly against my hair. "I've got you."

And I know what he says is true. I know he won't let me go, and so I do as he says. I let it leave my body and breathe through it until it feels like I can't possibly cry anymore, like all the bitterness is being washed away until I feel empty and numb. I let myself sink deeper into his embrace until he's practically supporting me to keep me upright. The more I lean into him, the safer it feels. I don't know how long we stay like this, but at some point, Renn gently gathers me up in his arms and carries me to the bedroom. He does so with such ease, pulling back the sheets while still cradling me and then laying me down onto the bed. I literally cling to him, and the front of his shirt is soaked with my tears. I'm pathetic, but at this moment, I don't care.

He pulls the covers over me then turns to leave, but I grab his hand, strong and warm as he slowly wraps his fingers around mine and gazes down at me. Neither of us says a word, but we don't have to, he just knows. He kicks off his boots and lies down on the bed next to me. Being a chivalrous man, he refrains from getting under the covers, as much as I wish he would, but he's still close enough that I can feel his warmth. I need him closer, so I slide over, laying my head against his chest, and he naturally wraps his arms around me.

My mind and body unwind, and it isn"t long until the heaviness of sleep overcomes me, his steady heartbeat in my ear lulls me to find peace, the sound reminding me he's here—he's real. I don't remember falling asleep, but when I dream, I dream of Renn. Because even with him right beside me, I want to keep him close, even as I sleep.