Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
VICTORIA
T hat last half-mile is a doozy,” Joan says, peering at me over her reading glasses. She’s perched behind the check-in desk at the main lodge, right where she was when I left a few hours ago. She’s still watching reruns of Bones and sipping from a massive thermos filled with what she calls her afternoon toddy. A sticker on the thermos has an earnest-looking tabby cat wearing a backpack and proclaims, A life well-lived is spent outdoors .
I’m starting to agree with that sentiment. Even in moments like this one, when my thighs are screaming for a hot bath with epsom salts and my shoulders ache from carrying my backpack.
Joan checked me into this cabin two days ago, and now she talks to me like I’m her new best friend. Yesterday I brought her a lemon blueberry muffin from a bakery in town and this morning she told me about her favorite hike that starts a few miles from here, just off the Blue Ridge Parkway.
“You were right, though,” I tell her. “That view at sunset is incredible.”
“Right?” she says, her face lighting up. “It’s totally worth that brutal uphill climb.” With her pixie-cut dark hair and sparkling gray-blue eyes, she looks barely forty—but told me she’s almost sixty. Born and raised in this little corner of Virginia, she’s spent her whole life rambling in the mountains , as she calls it. She told me she still hikes almost every day, usually early in the morning before starting her shift here at the cabins.
“Thanks again,” I tell her. “For the recommendation.”
“Anytime,” she says, grabbing a guide book from a shelf under her desk. One arm is covered in a sleeve of fine-lined tattoos of flowers and birds, the colors done in muted earth tones. “I marked my favorites in here,” she says, handing me the book. “Just bring it back to me when you check out.” She’s really leaned into this idea of being my local guide. Not that I mind one bit—I came here to clear my head, but also to push myself to get stronger, even if it’s only a week until the next camp begins.
Sophie was right about this place—being here is the perfect way for me to gather my thoughts about how I want to move forward. A cozy, private cabin with no wifi has given me just the right amount of seclusion and quiet to make me feel calm again. And in this quiet, I’ve been able to finally hear that voice deep inside me—the one from the woman who’s been knocked down enough that she was nearly impossible to hear.
But not anymore.
“Thank you,” I tell Joan. The book’s a small pocket-sized guide, with a dozen or more dog-eared pages and generous spots of highlighting. “I’ll take good care of it.”
She nods as the landline next to her rings with a call. “Have a good night, hon,” she says, reaching for the phone.
I give her a friendly wave and head back down the dirt path to my cabin, which is about a hundred yards from this building. Sophie called it rustic, but comfy. It’s not quite camping and is more modern than the room I had at the institute—but I still feel like I’m roughing it a little. The cabin’s like a studio apartment, with a kitchen-living room area, a tiny bathroom, and a loft upstairs that sleeps two.
I climb the front steps and unlock the door, already fantasizing about the long shower I’m going to take to ease these tired muscles. Unlike that first week of camp, I’m no longer gasping for air when I hike moderate trails. I’m still slow, but each day outside gets a little easier—and that just motivates me to keep going. Once inside, I kick off my boots, and immediately think of Noah and how he insisted I get a decent pair. I’ve only checked my phone a thousand times since Sunday night, hoping there might be a text from him.
There hasn't been.
And that fact hurts me even more than I thought it would.
After stripping out of my sweaty hiking clothes, I take a a hot shower—I’ll feel these aches tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it. Every ache lets me know I’m moving forward, training my body to be stronger and grow more accustomed to the unpredictability of nature—and other parts of life, too.
No matter what happens with Noah, my heart will get stronger, just like all other muscles do when you use them. These three weeks with him and the tween campers have reminded me of the one lesson I’d never learn in the Griffin house: the more you love, the more your heart grows.
And that’s always a win.
A little after ten p.m., I’m nibbling on the remains of my microwave pizza, reading Joan’s field guide when I hear a loud clatter on the porch. Certain it’s one of the sneaky raccoons or bears that Joan warned me about, I grab the nearest big object—a wooden duck decoy from the bookcase—and fling open the front door, ready to holler and stamp my feet and scare the biscuits out of the nosy critter.
When I open the door, I’m stunned into silence, mouth gaping like a fish.
Noah’s on all fours by the steps, his leg tangled in the camp chair that was by the door.
“What on earth—” I blurt, just as he looks up and says, “Once again, my timing is perfect.”
“I thought you were some wild animal,” I say, still holding the decoy above my head like a weapon.
His brow lifts as he smirks. “And your plan was to bludgeon me with a duck?”
I drop my hand and tuck the decoy against my chest like a football. “What are you doing?”
“I tripped over your chair and dropped my phone,” he says, standing. “It’s pitch black out here.” Dressed in a navy button-down shirt and slim-cut jeans, he looks like a guy on a first date, trying hard to make a good impression. His jaw’s scruffy with stubble, and his hair’s rumpled in that way that begs me to run my fingers through it. And when he smiles, it melts my heart.
“Hi,” he says, pushing his sleeves to his elbows. He’s so close that I can smell that hint of cedar, and my body instinctively moves toward him.
“I meant, what are you doing here .”
“Hoping you let me come inside and have that long overdue chat.” His eyes are wide, a deep green in the moonlight. His gaze is intense, his smile tender. Will I ever tire of him looking at me this way?
I step to the side, holding the door open. “How did you find me?”
As he slips past me, his arm brushes against mine and sends a zip of electricity down to my toes. He’s been here less than a minute, and my body is already dying to be close to him again.
“I went to your house to return your book. And then Gwen told me you were gone.”
“And she sent you here?” My heart hammers in my chest.
He stares at me through those impossibly long lashes. “I asked her very nicely.”
Flustered, I go to the sink and pour two glasses of water. When I set them on the counter between us, he catches my hand and holds it as if it’s as fragile as a bird.
But it’s my heart that’s fragile, and he has no idea that he’s holding it in his hands, too.
“I needed to explain,” he says. “In person.” His thumb slides over my palm, and my breath hitches. “I wasn’t ignoring you, Vic. I left camp in a hurry because Hannah had an emergency and needed my help. Before that, at the airport, Derrick accidentally took my phone and left me with his. There was this whole thing with Ethan and a half-feral pug—but none of that matters.” He waves his free hand in the space between us and steps closer. “Anyway, the last few days have been crazy, and nothing went the way I’d hoped, and I know I could have gotten your number from Roxy, or had Gwen call you, or found some other way to talk to you sooner, but I didn’t want to say these things over the phone. I needed to see you.” He sighs, lacing his fingers in mine, and it’s like two puzzle pieces locking together. “I needed to see your face, and hold your hand, and be in the same space with you.”
My heart somersaults in my chest. How did I ever think I could walk away from this man and not feel the ache deep in my bones?
“I don’t want to lose you again,” he says. “I want to be with you—wherever that is. I know you said you needed some time, and I’m not here to put the pressure on. I want you to take all the time you need and do whatever you need to do, but I also want you to know that I’m here. I want to figure this out.”
I feel like a dam that’s about to burst. A hundred thoughts race through my brain, but only one of them matters.
“I’m glad you came,” I tell him.
He lets out a breath. “Thank heaven, because I thought there was about an eighty percent chance you’d tell me to get lost. After that last text, I thought I’d ruined everything. That you were pushing me away.”
“You didn’t,” I tell him. “And I wasn’t.” When I slide my hand along his cheek, he leans into my touch, and my whole body hums. “I’m sorry that it felt that way, but I needed to step away for a minute to sort through all of my messy feelings. I’m not always great at that, as you know.”
He takes my hand in his and holds it against his chest. “Maybe we can work on that together.”
“I’d like that.”
“Does that mean you?—”
At the same time, I say, “Roxy offered me the job.”
He smirks. “Well, of course she did. She knows a good thing when she sees it.”
“I told her yes. Because I found my happy.”
He grins that delicious grin that I will never ever get tired of seeing. “That’s my girl.” Then he scoops me into his arms, and I laugh as he spins me around the tiny kitchenette.
When he sets me back down, I tell him, “You were right. But I had to step back to see it. I loved working at the camp, but I needed to know that I wasn’t choosing it because of how I feel about you. I was caught up in this whirlwind, and finally felt like I found where I belonged—but part of me was afraid it wouldn’t last. Or it would fall apart and I’d lose everything like I did before.” I let out a heavy sigh, still reeling from the fact that he’s here, standing in front of me. That despite all of my anxious thoughts, he didn’t give up. “I couldn’t separate my feelings about the camp and my feelings about you, and time was running out, and—you cloud my judgment, Valentine. Whenever you’re around, you’re all I can think about.”
His brow lifts as he slides his arm around my waist. “Is that right?”
I give him a teasing eye roll. “I’m nuts about you,” I confess. “And most days I don’t know what to do about it.”
“I have some ideas,” he says, his voice so gravelly it makes the little hairs on my neck tingle.
I give him a playful nudge and he shoots me a cocky half-smile that means we’ll definitely revisit this conversation later.
He brings my hand to his lips, planting a kiss on the inside of my wrist. “I get it,” he says, serious again. “Sometimes I have to step away to get clear on what I really need, too. But know that you can tell me anything. Always. When you’re feeling lost, I’ll come with you so we can find the way forward together.”
“Fair warning,” I tell him. “I get lost. A lot.”
“You’ll have to try a lot harder than that to scare me off, Griffin.”
I smile, looping my arms over his neck.
“I love the idea of getting lost with you,” he says, sliding his fingers along my cheek. “I have from the moment we met. And just for the record, I never wanted anything as much as I want you.”
He leans down and kisses me tenderly at first—but it only takes a moment for this spark to ignite. He catches my lip in his teeth, his hands squeezing my hips as he pulls me closer. And then my body melts into his, and I feel the pounding of his heart against my chest.
All I can think is yes. This. More.
“Wait,” he says, pulling away. “I forgot something.” He takes a step towards the door, but I catch his arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I brought dessert,” he says, his tone teasing. “And wine. And flowers. I couldn’t possibly show up to win your heart empty-handed.”
“Later.” I pull him against me, sliding my hands along his chest. His eyes darken as he steps forward and pins me against the kitchen counter, his hips holding me in place. If his gaze was any more intense, it would burn this cabin to ash.
“I’ve been waiting for ages to get you all to myself,” I tell him, dropping my hands to his waist. “The last three weeks have been both amazing and absolute torture.”
He grins at that, one hand finding the small of my back while the other winds in my hair. “Same,” he says, his voice low and deep. His hands slide along my skin, as if memorizing every curve, and my heart bangs against my ribs. There’s no better feeling than this.
And there’s no other place I’d rather be.
“We have a week until the next camp starts,” I tell him. “I say we make it count.”
He leans closer, his lips moving against my ear. “I’m all yours, Griffin,” he says. “But then, I always have been.”
He scoops me onto the counter, and I lock my legs around his waist because somehow, he still feels too far away. His eyes pin me in place, and when he bends to kiss me again, I rake my fingers through his hair and catch his bottom lip in my teeth. I could kiss this man for days and still not get enough.
He murmurs my name, his lips moving against my neck, and I am both lost and finally found. When he mumbles something I can’t quite make out, I pull his face to mine and tell him to explain because I don’t want any more words lost between us.
“I can’t wait for our next adventure,” he says, eyes glittering with promise.
When he folds me into his arms again, my mind is quiet, and my heart is full—and for the first time I can remember, I know I’m exactly where I belong.