Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
RED
Ican't breathe for a second, and my smile is so wide it hurts my face.
I don't move—I can't. I just stand there watching her park, watching her sit behind the wheel like she's gathering courage.
Come on, Sasha; come to me, baby.
When she finally gets out—of the passenger side, of course—she’s holding something—a tin, maybe—and her face is set with determination that doesn't quite hide the fear underneath.
My body sags at the sight of her.
Bear’s at the door, whining low in his throat.
"I see her, Bear,” I whisper, my legs feeling like Jell-O.
She looks up at the cabin, takes a breath, and squares her shoulders. Then she starts walking.
I open the door before she reaches the porch.
We stare at each other across ten feet of snow. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, her hair is escaping from under a knit cap, and she's wearing that tiny outfit that’s doing nothing to ward off the temperature.
"Hey," she says.
God, that voice. I've missed it so much.
"Hey."
Bear pushes past me, nearly knocking me over in his rush to get to her. She drops to her knees, and he’s all over her—licking her face, pressing against her, making sounds I’ve never heard him make. She buries her face in his fur, and her shoulders shake.
“I missed you too, buddy.”
When she stands, her eyes are wet. She holds up the tin.
“I brought cookies. I figured I should return your tin.” Her smile wobbles. “And maybe apologize for running away.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” The words come out harder than I intend. “You left—you had a life to get back to.”
One that doesn’t include me.
“It doesn’t mean I should have.” She takes a step closer. “It doesn’t mean I didn’t regret it the second I got home.”
I scrub my face, unable to take my eyes off her.
“Beth called me a coward,” she continues, with a bitter edge to her laugh. “She said I finally found something real, and I bolted because I was scared. She wasn’t wrong.”
“Beth knew you were coming here?” I raise my brows.
“She’s been begging me to come back and ‘claim my man.’” Sasha shifts the tin from one hand to the other. “She said you’ve been alone too long. That you needed someone willing to fight for you.”
My brows bunch together. “I don’t need—”
“I know what you’re going to say.” She cuts me off, steel in her voice now. “That you don’t need anyone, that you’re fine alone. That this was just a storm and some sex, and I should go back to my life and forget about it.”
I close my mouth. That wasn’t what I was gonna say. Just a storm and some sex? Fuck, no.
“But here’s the thing, Red.” She’s climbing the porch steps now, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her eyes.
“I tried. I tried to go back to normal, to pretend those days didn’t happen, but everything felt wrong.
The apartment was too small, the bakery was too loud, and my bed was too empty. ”
“Sasha—”
“I don’t know what this is.” She’s right in front of me now, and I can feel the heat radiating from her despite the cold. “I don’t know if it’s smart or stupid. But I know it felt like something. And I’m tired of running from things that scare me just because they might not work out.”
The tin sits between us, both a barrier and a peace offering. I take it from her hands and set it on the porch railing without looking.
“Are you sure about this? Because I won’t be able to let you go once I have you back.”
“Good.” Her chin lifts. “Because I’m not planning on leaving again.”
The kiss happens before I’ve fully closed the distance. My hands cup her face, and her mouth opens against mine, and it’s nothing like our first kiss or our last. This one tastes like coming home. Like second chances. Like everything I’ve been too afraid to want.
“Sasha, fuck,” I moan, walking her backward until her spine hits the door. Deepening the kiss, I feel her hands fisting in my jacket like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“Inside,” I manage between kisses. “I need you inside.”
“Yes.”
I fumble with the door, get it open, and we’re through it in a tangle of limbs and desperate touches.
Bear circles us, his tail wagging frantically, but I barely notice.
All I can focus on is her—the weight of her in my arms, the taste of her mouth, the way she’s pulling at my clothes like she needs skin contact more than air.
“I missed you,” she gasps against my throat. “God, Red, I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” I’m stripping off her coat, her sweater, finding bare skin and groaning at the contact. “I thought about you every damn second.”
“Prove it.”
I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist. The bed is too far, but the couch is right here. I lower us both down, and she’s working on my belt, her hands shaking, her breaths coming fast.
“Hey.” I catch her wrists, gently but firm. “Look at me.”
She does. Her eyes are wild, pupils blown.
“We’ve got time,” I say. “There’s no storm—no reason to rush.”
“I don’t want slow.” Her voice breaks. “I need to feel you; I need to know this is real.”
I understand that. The fear that this is temporary, that any second she’ll realize what a mistake this is and leave again.
So, I kiss her with everything I have—all the loneliness of the past ten days, all the hope I’ve been trying to extinguish, all the want I’ve been drowning in since she drove away.
Her jeans come off, and mine follow. She’s not wearing anything underneath, and the sight of her—all flushed and ready and here—makes my hands shake.
“No condom,” I say, even though it kills me. “Unless you—”
“No condom.” She pulls me down. “All of you. Nothing between us.”
I sink into her, and we both go still, our foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air. This is different—this is her choosing to come back, and me choosing to let her in. This is us deciding we want each other.
“Fuck,” I groan.
She rocks her hips. “Move, Red. Please.”
I do. Slowly at first, savoring every sound she makes, every flutter of her body around mine. But she’s impatient, meeting every thrust, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks I’ll feel tomorrow.
I don’t care.
"More. I need—"
I give her what she’s asking for. The couch creaks under us; the rhythm turning desperate, and I’m drowning in her—the scent of her skin, the taste of her mouth, the way she says my name like she’s worshipping me.
When she comes, it’s with her eyes locked on mine, her whole body arching, and I explode into her, unable to believe she’s real.
I shift enough to keep my full weight off her, but I don’t pull out. I can’t bring myself to break the connection.
“Stay,” I murmur into her hair.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I mean it.” I pull back enough to see her face. “Bring your stuff.”
Her eyes go wide. “Red—”
“I know it’s fast and crazy.” I cup her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “But I spent ten days in hell without you, and I’m not doing it again. So, if you’re serious about this, about us, then stay. Help me figure out how to do this.”
She’s quiet for so long my heart sinks. Then she smiles—and it’s bright, real, and everything I need.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll need time, and I’ll need to give notice at my apartment. And I’ll still work at the bakery until I can save enough to open my own place. But yeah.” She kisses me, all soft and sweet. “Let’s do this crazy thing.”
My shoulders drop, and tension I didn’t even realize I was holding leaves my body. I kiss her again, deeper this time, and feel her body responding despite how recently we finished fucking.
“Again?” she asks, breathless.
“Again,” I confirm. “We’ve got ten horrible days to make up for.”
She laughs, and the sound fills every empty corner of the cabin.
This time we make it to the bed.