by Lynda Aicher
Fear had been holding him back far more than grief or guilt until now. It was still there. The fear of losing her or messing up or opening himself up again. Fear of all that could happen if he let his love for Liv grow.
The difference now was that it was overridden by the fear of missing out on her completely. The thought that it might’ve already happened terrified him into moving.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Liv stared at the pathetic flames she’d managed to prod to life with the last of the wood left in the fireplace. In her rush to get to the cabin, she’d forgotten her mother’s penchant for not covering the woodpile.
She covered a yawn, tucked her nose under the edge of the quilt and snuggled farther into the lumpy couch to get away from the winter chill that crept through the thin walls and old windows. The cabin was built for summer living more than winter survival, which made it the perfect place for her escape because the likelihood of anyone finding her was slim to zero. If only the ancient heater worked better or she’d remembered to buy wood. Tomorrow. She’d get wood tomorrow.
Pushing to get to here tonight hadn’t been smart, especially with how tired she’d been. The drive that normally took two hours had doubled with the snowy roads, yet here she lay hours after she’d arrived, unable to sleep.
She’d responded to the texts from Liv and Noah when she’d stopped for gas so they wouldn’t fret, then turned her phone off. The whole point in coming here was to hide away from everyone. She’d only called her mother about the cabin because her cousins sometimes used the place to go ice fishing on the lake.
Her thoughts swirled in and drifted away in a random string that she recognized as exhaustion. She’d been there before. When she pushed herself until her body finally said enough. Dropping completely out of the rat race was the only way she could let go enough to recuperate.
The fire hissed then popped, sparks shooting into the air behind the screen before they fizzled out. The wind battered at the back windows in random gusts that blew off the lake with increasing force. If she’d waited for morning, she might not have made it down the randomly plowed road that wound around the lake. Well, maybe she would’ve with the four wheel drive on Noah’s SUV. Bessie never would’ve made the trip up there tonight.
And there she was, back to Noah. Everything seemed to come back to him.
She blinked into the dimming light and thought about going down the hall to bed, only she couldn’t make herself move. As she was warm in her flannel pajamas and wool socks under two layers of blankets, the effort to get up was more than she had in her.
Noah would probably chuckle at her unsexy pajamas, but then, it wasn’t like she’d ever worn sexy lingerie for him. That wasn’t her. Maybe it should be. No. Now she was being dumb. Tired and dumb.
And lonely.
She’d run away from everyone to be alone, and now she was lamenting the fact. God, she needed to sleep. Everything would be better after twelve hours of solid sleep. Right? If she could only fall asleep and stay that way. The nightmares still woke her up two or three nights a week to leave her panting, shaking and awake for hours if she even managed to get back to sleep.
She missed being in Noah’s bed. No, she missed him, period.
At least she still had the ability to recognize she was being a sorrowful whiner. It was all the more reason to be here. She’d grab a container of ice cream tomorrow, too. And lots of chocolate. Hot fudge sauce and potato chips and dip and… Hell, maybe she’d clear out the junk food aisle and call it good.
She snickered, feeling a little better that she could still laugh at herself. Maybe she wasn’t too pathetic yet.
The fire had reduced to a simmering glow when a set of headlights flashed across the walls of the cabin. She jerked up, frowning, to stare at the bright white globes that bobbed up and down behind the curtains on the unplowed drive of the cabin.
Who in the…
He wouldn’t have. Would he? But how would he find her? Maybe it was a serial killer or psychopath. Right. Way to keep those nightmares away.
V, maybe? Would their mother have told her sister?
She wrapped the quilt around herself and shuffled to the front door to peer around the curtain that covered the window. The SUV blocked her view of the car but the glare from the headlights showed that the snowstorm had worsened. Great.
The engine cut off. A door slammed. She still couldn’t see anyone. Curiosity, tipped with just a hint of fear, built the longer she waited. A large figure carrying bags came around the side of the SUV, and she squinted against the backlight of the car headlights to make out who it was.
Her heart jumped and her stomach did a flip before the lights went off, plunging the night back into darkness. She hurried to flick on the porch light, almost positive it was Noah.
He stepped into the circle of light, his dark head tipped against the blowing snow. His down coat was zipped to his chin, and the red scarf she’d made for him was wrapped over his nose and mouth. With all of that, the man had forgotten to put on gloves. His bare hands were clenched around two bags and a bundle of firewood.
Her smile was automatic and she clicked the locks to yank open the door before he’d reached the little porch. “Noah.”
His head snapped up and even though she couldn’t see his mouth, his eyes said he was smiling. “Liv.”
It came out a bit muffled and dulled by the wind, but the warmth in it reached her. He climbed the three steps and stopped at the threshold where he stared down at her. His eyes shone dark and intense in the soft yellow light, and she couldn’t seem to move, even though the snow whipped around her and the wind penetrated the quilt to make her shiver.
Finally, she managed to wet her lips and ask, “What are you doing here?”
He set the firewood down and tugged the scarf off his face. A tentative smile spread over his lips before he answered. “I came for you.”
*
Wrapped up in a quilt worn by age and use, the red plaid collar of her flannel pajamas peeking out around her neck, hair tied up in a messy knot at her crown, Liv had never looked more beautiful to Noah. His heart pounded out a heavy pattern of hope and anticipation. If she put her hand over it right now, she’d know exactly how nervous he was.
“Can I come in?” he asked when she didn’t respond to his statement. There was no way he was leaving before he talked to her, even if it was right there on the front porch in the middle of the night and a snowstorm.
“Oh.” She blinked once, twice then stepped back, waving him in. “Yes. Sorry. Get in here.”
She seemed to snap into action then. The quilt was tossed over the back of the couch to reveal the cozy set of flannel pajamas that had teased him. Gray wool socks covered her feet to complete the backwoods girl image that was decidedly sexy on her.
She turned back to him, her pleasant smile not fooling him at all. “Let me get those.” The two bags filled with food and her gifts were taken from his hand and set on the small kitchen counter before he could unwind his scarf from around his neck. The duffel bag on this shoulder was gone next, set on the floor by the door before she picked up the heavy wood.
“I’ll get—”
“No worries.” She breezed over him as she headed to the fireplace. “I got it. Get your stuff off, and I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate. Or would you prefer coffee? I got that, too.”
“Liv.”
“I can’t believe you drove up here in that storm. The roads were bad for me and—” she spun around from stacking the wood on the hearth, “—I had your SUV. How’d your car make it in the snow?” She turned back to her task. “I really need to give the SUV back to you. I’ll work on that when I get home. Do you have more wood in your trunk? If not, we can try to get to town tomorrow for more.”
He hung his coat on the hook with his scarf and brushed the snow from his hair. “Liv.”
“Let me get this fire going better, and then I’ll start the water.” She kneeled and placed a couple of logs o
ver the glowing embers, then grabbed the poker to shift the wood around.
He slipped his boots off and walked the short distance across the small cabin to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Liv.” She’d stilled at his approach, went stiff at his touch, silent at his voice. “Why’d you run?”
She spun around, coming to a stand as she did. Her eyes blazed with indignation. “I did not run.”
“Okay.” He eased the poker from her hand and set it on the hearth. She tracked his movements, tension easing from her defensive posture. “Then why did you leave without telling anyone?”
She studied him, her face oddly expressionless. One of her many smiles wasn’t there communicating without words for her. A log cracked and popped, the wind howled at the windows and still she said nothing. The silence unnerved him and said so much more than any of the words she’d rambled to him since he’d arrived.
Moving slowly, he wrapped his arms around her back and stepped in until she was tucked against his chest. It was more long moments before she exhaled and leaned into him. He squeezed his eyes closed and pressed his cheek to her head. This was right. He’d known it all along and was certain he could handle it now.
They stood like that until she shivered in his arms. The heat from the fire wasn’t enough to keep the chill of the room from seeping in. Without saying a word, he went about banking the fire she’d just started then locking the door and flicking off the outside light. He put away the groceries that needed to be refrigerated then went back to where she still stood by the fire.
He held out his hand, and she only hesitated for a second before slipping her hand into his. His sigh was silent, yet it flowed through him on a wave of relief so strong he had to fight to keep it from showing.
He found his way down the short hall by the dying glow of the fire. One of the doors was cracked and the hinges creaked when he pushed it open farther. There was just enough light to see her bag open on a chair, clothes tossed over the back and on the floor around it.
He turned, pressed a kiss to her temple, squeezed her hand and stepped away to tug his sweatshirt over his head. He threw it in the general direction where her clothes lay then undid his jeans and slid them off, along with his socks.
She didn’t move or say anything while he undressed. Silence could mean any number of things and words could be worse. Plowing forward, he left his white undershirt and boxers on and tugged the covers back on the bed. He slid between the sheets and held the blankets up, looking at her.
“Just sleep.”
Her expression was hidden from him, but he caught the slow nod before she dipped to remove her socks. She crawled in next to him, and he tucked the covers over them as she snuggled into his side, right where she belonged.
He hugged her close and inhaled her scent, some of the panic finally leaching from him. Her hand came to rest over his heart, its rhythm slowing now that he had her back in his arms.
He closed his eyes and absorbed everything he’d missed since she’d moved out of his house. The soft press of her breasts against his ribs, the gentle swell of her hip under his palm, the fit of her leg between his, her toes ruffling the hair on his calf. He traced his fingers under the band of her bottoms to find the two little dips that were his.
Her breath hitched, and a tremble rushed through her as she went limp. There was a sniff then a quiet “Why’d you come?”
“For you,” he answered. Simple and straightforward. It was the truth.
“But why?” she prodded.
“Because I love you.” She sucked in a breath, and he hugged her tightly. He held his kiss to her temple for several moments before easing back. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
She didn’t argue or say anything more, but it was a long time before her breathing slowed and her muscles slackened. He listened to the storm raging outside, his thoughts tracking over their time together. She was a one-woman storm of giving, and she was exhausted. He’d seen signs of it over the last few weeks, but she’d brushed him off when he’d said anything.
Not anymore. She wasn’t getting away with vague answers and quick flips of the topic. It was time she accepted that he was there for her, too. That she could count on him to be there when she needed someone to lean on.
And love.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Liv woke to the scent of coffee and bacon. She inhaled deep and snuggled into the cocoon of the blankets before the abnormality hit her. Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright. It took more than a few blinks to edge away the sleep and recognize the bedroom at the cottage. She flopped back down, the ceiling becoming a white backdrop as the events of the last twenty-four hours rushed through her mind.
In the end, all the small things were chucked aside as she settled on the reason Noah had given for coming after her.
Because I love you.
She blew out a shaky breath, hope too tenuous to settle into permanence. He’d said that the last time she’d walked away. Was this any different? And what if it wasn’t the answer she longed to hear? That was the inherent risk of falling in love with someone, wasn’t it? Maybe that was why she’d avoided doing so for so long.
She rolled out of bed, slipped her socks on and peeked out the window to see a gray sky but no falling snow. With a sigh, she went to the bathroom to freshen up and emerged feeling more awake, despite the desire to crawl back into bed. She fluffed her hair out with her fingers and paused at the end of the hall, yawning.
The main room of the cabin would be classified as cozy. The kitchen was tucked into the corner by the front door. A bar separated it from the dining area that had a built-in bench along the wall. The sitting area took up the rest of the space with a set of sliding doors off the back leading to a large screened-in porch that was currently boarded up for the winter.
Noah’s presence seemed to consume the space where he stood by the stove. The sizzling sound and scent had her guessing he was cooking the bacon that had woken her in the first place. He wore the navy sweatshirt she’d given him, and that touched her heart for some lame reason. She’d noticed it last night, but she’d been too shell-shocked by his just being there to think on it.
He looked comfortable in the tiny kitchen. His hair was still messed from sleep and his jeans were loose on his frame. The sleeves of the sweatshirt were pushed up to show his forearms, and she was content to just watch him work.
He was humming something under his breath, but she couldn’t catch the tune. The desire to sneak up, wrap her arms around him and bury her nose into the space below his nape was so strong she almost caved to it. Then she remembered it didn’t matter if he looked like he belonged there, because nothing was settled between them.
Even if he had come after her and held her all night so she could sleep and was making her breakfast and… He was here.
The warm contentment that had weaved through her was dashed by the openness of reality. “You cook?”
His head whipped up, tongs stilling as he shot her a grin. “I kill at breakfast.”
She chuckled and moved into the room. The guard around her heart was dented and crumbling, but she tried to reinforce it with the will that kept her going.
He turned and poured her a cup of coffee, adding creamer before handing it to her. Just like she liked it. Another dent in her armor.
“Thanks.” She lifted it to inhale the deep scent. It always worked like a caffeine hit directly to the brain. The first sip slid down her throat, and she almost moaned at how good it was. “This isn’t the stuff I brought.”
“I remembered how much you liked that brand.” His gaze flicked over her face before he turned back to the stove. Had he seen that wall fall? “Did you sleep well?”
“Like the dead,” she said into her cup. She didn’t remember a single dream. “What time is it?”
He picked up his phone on the counter and clicked it on. “Almost one.”
“Really? Wow. Sorry I slept so late.”
“You needed it.”
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True. Another yawn said she still needed more. She shuffled over to the couch, tugged the quilt off the back and settled into the corner, feet tucked under her. He’d started another fire, and the flames danced in red, gold and blue tones to entertain her. There was more wood on the hearth, along with a tablet on the side table, which wasn’t hers.
“When did you get up?” she called out.
“A while ago.”
And he’d let her sleep in. Made a fire. Got more wood. She wanted so badly to hope, to hold on to the signs he was showing and make them true. “When are you going to tell me why you’re really here?” She simply didn’t have the energy to stew on it.
“I already did.”
She rolled her eyes. Right. That love thing. “It’s not that simple.”
He came around the couch, a plate in his hand. “It could be.”
“But it’s not.” She set her coffee down and accepted the plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. One of her favorites.
He shrugged and went back to the kitchen to grab his food. “Do you need more coffee?”
“No. I’m good.”
He sat on the other end of the couch, and the silence stretched as they ate. Her eggs were gone before she gave into the urge to say something. “The sweatshirt looks good on you.”
He looked down, smiled. “I like it.”
“So do you want to give me the unsimple reason for why you’re here?”
His plate clinked on the side table when he set it down, his food only half-eaten. He shifted to face her, one leg bending to rest on the couch. “Do you want to give me the unsimple reason for why you ran?”
“I thought we established I didn’t run.”
His level look had her squirming. “Call it what you want, but you disappeared without a word to anyone. You scared me. We were all worried.”
Her breakfast turned hard in her stomach and she set her plate aside, picking up the coffee to give her something to stare at. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I just needed to get away.”
