Chapter 32 – Cassie
I walked into the kitchen, the smell of waffles and syrup encasing me. My stomach growled, knowing there was delicious food nearby.
While the food was warm, the temperature in the cabin was not. I crossed my arms, rubbing them to generate some heat.
“Why is it so cold in here?” I asked, searching for Jace’s thermostat. I was about to bump that sucker up.
“The heater’s on, but it can only do so much when it gets this cold outside. After the first snowfall of the year, I usually keep the fireplace running to make up for the lost heat, but—” He stopped short, the rest of his words dying on his tongue before they could hurt my feelings.
Jace had been leaving his house freezing for me—all because of my unhealed trauma.
“I could probably make it to the general store up the road,” he offered, glancing toward the window where snow still piled outside. “They might have something we could use for more heat.”
“No, I don’t want you going out in this weather on account of me,” I said, nerves prickling beneath my skin. “What if you lit the fire… but kept it small? Nothing wild.” My voice wavered as I spoke, unsure if I was ready to handle even that much.
Jace’s gaze softened. He could tell I was pushing myself, inching past the edge of comfort for the sake of warmth.
“Cassie,” he said gently, taking a seat at the kitchen island, “if you’re not ready, we don’t have to. We can double up on sweaters, wear thick socks. It’s not a big deal, I promise. I’ve dealt with worse than a little cold.”
I stood taller, as if doing so would convince my brain I wasn’t afraid, that my body didn’t need to panic. “No, I can do this. I can handle it. It’s just a small fire. Plus, you’ll be in here the whole time to keep an eye on it, right?”
“I can stay in here, yes. I’ll just sit on the couch and watch football. Even if I need to get a snack, I can still keep an eye on the fire,” he said, reassuring me.
I stood there a minute longer before taking a deep breath, trying to convince myself I’d be fine. Jace waited—probably for me to talk myself out of it.
It’s just fire, Cassie. It’s not always dangerous, I thought. Sometimes it’s even necessary—like right now.
I took another deep breath and locked eyes with Jace. “I can handle it. I can handle the fire. Time to cowgirl up,” I said, releasing a quick breath and walking toward the couch, only have half convinced myself.
Jace stood and walked over to the fireplace, crouching in front of it.
“Alright,” he said, glancing back at me. “We’ll start slow… just some kindling and one small log. You won’t even see much flame at first, just a little flicker.”
I nodded, hovering a few feet behind him, my fingers gripping the hem of my sweater.
He struck the match, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet cabin, making me jump. The faint sulfur scent reached me before the tiny flame sparked to life. My pulse spiked, memories stirring at the edges, but Jace’s calm voice anchored me.
“It’s okay, Cass,” he murmured. “Just a small flame.”
He added a piece of wood, the flame licking softly at its edges. My body tensed, but Jace stayed close, moving slowly to avoid overwhelming me.
“Take a breath,” he said without looking back, still watching the flame. “You’re doing good, Cassie. Real good.”
I did as he said—a shaky inhale, a steadier exhale.
After a few minutes, the small flame caught, glowing low and golden behind the grate. The first crackle of the log sent a jolt up my spine, though no one would’ve known it.
Deep breaths, Cassie. In, out.
I sat down on the couch, pulling a blanket over my legs. Warmth began to spread throughout the room.
“You can, um…watch your football now,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes were still locked on the slowly growing fire.
The game came to life on the flat screen as Jace pushed buttons on the remote, the soft hum of the commentators mixing with the gentle pop of the fire. This time, the pop didn’t startle me or make my skin crawl—progress.
A few minutes passed before the cushion dipped beside me. Jace inched closer, stretching his long legs out, the faint smell of cedar clinging to his flannel.
He ran his fingers through my hair, probably trying to ease my nerves.
“You’ve got a knot,” he said, fumbling with a section of my hair near the end of my red strands.
“Usually I braid my hair to keep it from getting knotted up,” I explained, pulling a hair tie off my wrist. “Or put it up in a bun.”
“I got it,” he said shifting closer to me, his calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he divided my hair into three sections.
“June Bug makes me braid hers all the time,” he said with a chuckle. “She made me watch YouTube tutorials until I got it right.”
I smiled, staring at the fire. “That sounds exactly like something she would do.”
“So I’ve had plenty of practice when it comes to braiding hair. You’re my first redhead though,” he teased.
“Better be the last, too,” I shot back playfully.
“The next red head of hair I braid will be June Bug’s cousin,” he said, nonchalantly as if that one sentence wasn’t enough to make me melt on the floor and evaporate into heaven.
“Better?” he asked, tying off the end of the braid with the elastic from my wrist.
I pulled the braid to one side, admiring his work. “Jace, this is so good,” I said, surprised at how well he’d twisted my hair.
“What? Did you think I was lying?” he asked, laughing. “You know those braids June Bug wears in her hair for all her recitals. Yeah, that’s me,” he said, beaming with pride.
“I always thought Ellie did her hair,” I said, shocked by his confession.
“She did in the beginning, but June Bug convinced Ellie to let me do it one day after my eyeballs almost fell out from watching hours of tutorials. Her hair came out really good and held in place for the whole recital, so from then on, I was the honorary hair braider,” he said, flipping my braid between his fingers.
“What other secret talents do you have?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“Well, you discovered one of them last night,” he said, inching closer with a cocky grin.
“Besides your talents between the sheets,” I said, giving him a sly smile.
“I’m pretty good at drawing, actually. Sometimes when I’m bored, I sit in front of the windows and draw something on my sketch pad. Sometimes I go to Crowley’s Ridge and draw what I see out there, like the stars,” he said, catching me off guard again.
He pointed to one of the tattoos on his forearm, pulling up his sleeve so I could see it better. It was a picture of mountain peaks, the horizon dipping behind them.
“I sketched this too,” he said, tracing it with his finger.
I held his arm in place so I could study I better. “What made you want to draw that?”
“It reminds me that the climb’s worth it. That some things take time.”
I traced the outline with my eyes, following the faint lines that marked each ridge.
“I got it after rehab. My sponsor said recovery’s not about racing to the top. It’s about taking one step at a time and not giving up when the path gets steep.” He paused, glancing toward the fire. “Guess that stuck with me.”
I swallowed, my chest tightening in that achy, tender way it did whenever he let me in. “It’s beautiful, Jace.”
He smiled a little. “It helps me remember I’m still climbing. Still choosing to.”
I could feel Jace turn his gaze towards me. “You’ve been climbing too, Cassie. You just don’t give yourself enough credit.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Feels more like I’ve been standing at the bottom, staring up, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to get out of this damn hole life has me in.”
He shifted closer, resting his arm on the couch behind me.
The firelight flickered across his face, shimmering in his eyes.
“You don’t have to reach the top all at once.
You just have to take one step. Even if it’s small.
Even if it’s just lighting a fire again for the first time.
Every step you take shows everyone how strong you really are. ”
His words sank in, and I turned toward the flames—burning low and steady now, not wild, not dangerous, just enough to give us the warmth we needed.
“I guess I’m still trying to trust that the fire won’t always hurt,” I said quietly.
“It won’t,” he assured me. “Sometimes it’s what keeps you alive.”
I leaned back against the couch, letting the warmth envelope me. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t afraid of it.
“Just the fact that you can sit here without shaking proves you’re already halfway up the mountain.”
“Guess I just needed someone to climb with me,” I said, nudging his shoulder.
His lips curved gently, his eyes meeting mine for a long, quiet moment. “Yeah,” he said, “me too.”