Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sienna
Breakfast should have been simple: oatmeal, coffee, and a quick hike. But instead, it was one long stretch of awkward, unbearably loaded silence punctuated by Emma and Jake’s cheerful commentary about nature, marriage, and the strength of our hypothetical marital bond.
Couple Goals, as they put it.
I could barely look at Carson without remembering how his mouth had felt on mine.
How his hands had held me. How I’d woken tangled against him, his breath warm on my neck, his arm heavy around my waist. I kept pretending I wasn’t staring at him, but he’d look at me, and my heart would forget its assigned rhythm entirely.
His protectiveness was worse. Every time he passed me a mug, or checked my pockets for hand warmers, or glanced my way when Emma asked about today’s hike, it hit me all over again: last night had changed something. Something I didn’t know how to manage.
But I wasn’t the only one feeling it. I could see it in the way his hand hesitated when it brushed mine, in how he stood just a little too close when we packed up breakfast, in the flicker of emotion he didn’t hide as well as he thought.
Something had shifted inside him too…not just heat, not just desire. Something deeper and quieter. Something that made my chest tighten if I thought about it too long.
When we were ready to go, he stepped beside me near the fire ring, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
“You okay?”
I kept adjusting a strap on my pack even though it was perfect.
“Yep. Totally fine. Just focusing on the route today.”
He looked unconvinced. His eyes softened in that way that made me feel seen and exposed at the same time.
“If something’s wrong—”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I cut in, too fast, too bright.
Before he could say more, Emma bounced over with the enthusiasm of someone fueled by sunshine and espresso. “I’m so ready for adventure time.”
Carson stepped back. I exhaled, both relieved and disappointed.
We set out along the trail, the morning warming faster than expected. Sunlight dripped through the pines, dappling the ground.
The lake peeked between the trees like a sliver of polished steel. Emma stopped every 10 feet to take pictures, narrating for her social media as Jake pretended to be a tree expert.
“That one’s an oak,” he announced proudly.
I smiled. “It’s a spruce.”
He nodded as though we agreed. “Exactly.”
Carson chuckled at my side. That little sound slid down my spine in a way that shouldn’t have been allowed.
I tried to focus on the trail, on the responsibility of guiding.
Still, it was impossible not to notice him—how he stayed close, always aware of where I stepped, always watching the ground ahead of me as though mapping out safety in advance.
We reached a narrow curve where the trail hugged the ridge above the lake. Sunlight danced over the water, bright and inviting. The path here was dry, but the angle was tight and uneven.
“I’ll walk behind you,” Carson murmured, stepping close enough that his breath brushed the back of my neck.
“I know the trail,” I whispered.
“I know.” His tone softened. “I just like you safe.”
Something warm unfurled inside my chest. I didn’t trust my voice enough to reply. It didn’t matter. He understood.
Emma caught us whispering and elbowed Jake. “They’re so in sync. Married couples just have that energy.”
“We’ll get there,” Jake muttered.
I nearly tripped on flat ground.
The trail opened up as we neared a bend in the trees, revealing the lakeshore.
The water was blue-gold under the morning sun, framed by smooth stones that sloped toward the waterline.
Normally, those rocks were harmless, but recent warm weather had created a thin layer of meltwater across them. Invisible. Treacherous.
I stepped onto the first stone, feeling stable, and turned back with a bright, guide-like smile.
“This is one of my favorite views. Just be careful. The rocks can be sli—”
My heel shot out from under me.
The world moved backward, and the lake rushed upward.
I screamed as my arms flailed for balance. Gravel skittered beneath me. The shock of cold water loomed as Carson’s shout cracked through the air like a whip.
“Sienna.”
Before I could process anything, arms wrapped around my waist. Strong. Certain. Unshakeable. He caught me just before I pitched fully into the lake, but momentum was already carrying us both.
His boots slid, and my knees buckled.
Carson’s arms tightened around me.
And together—
SPLASH.
I went into the lake up to my hips, icy-cold water slicing through my clothes and knocking the air out of my lungs. Carson landed half in, half out, but he never let go of me. He shielded me from the impact, twisting so I didn’t slam against the rocks.
“Oh my gosh!” Emma shrieked somewhere above us. “Sienna!”
“I’m okay,” I gasped, voice high and shaky. “Just sampling the lake temperature!”
Carson hauled me upright with a strength that still startled me, even after everything. Water streamed off both of us, dripping from my braid, soaking his jacket.
He didn’t care.
His hands went to my shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I breathed.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
His jaw slackened as relief washed through him. “Good.”
Jake hurried over. “He dove after you.”
Carson glared half-heartedly. “I did not dive. I reached.”
Emma clapped her mittened hands. “It was so heroic. Truly. Like a romantic comedy, but without the humor. Well, maybe in a few days you’ll think it’s funny. Right now, probably too fresh.”
I felt my face burn.
“I’m so sorry, guys. I need to get back to base camp and change,” I explained.
“We both do.” Carson glanced at Jake and Emma. “But the good news is that it’s nearly lunch time, so we’ll kill two birds with one stone.”
“I’m starved anyway,” Jake said, nodding.
The two love birds stayed behind us as Carson guided me back toward camp, never letting go. His hand stayed on my arm, warm despite being soaked. His eyes kept flicking downward, checking every step, every wobble. The quiet intensity in his posture was unmistakable.
“You’re freezing,” he murmured as he helped me onto a log.
“I’m invigorated,” I insisted through chattering teeth.
His eyes narrowed. “Sienna.”
“Fine. A bit chilly.”
“Scoot forward.”
He rummaged through his pack, pulling out a thick sweater and handing it to me. I tugged it on quickly, and it instantly warmed me with the leftover shape of him, cedar, cold air, and something warm underneath.
Carson was getting the fire going as he crouched in front of me, studying my face with a focus that made it impossible to breathe normally.
“Don’t scare me like that,” he said quietly.
My heart squeezed. “I didn’t plan to.”
He gave me a look so tender it nearly unraveled me. “I know.”
For a moment, the smallest breath of a moment, there was nothing but that look. The memory of last night. The heat that rose between us was like a second fire.
Carson straightened so fast he nearly slipped again. I hid my face behind my hands.
“I’m going to gather more wood,” he muttered, clearly needing a second to breathe.
“I’ll start the soup and sandwiches.” I followed him with my eyes, watching the way his shoulders moved.
Jake and Emma snuck to an area of pines that were more private while I unlocked our food barrels and grabbed some bread.
When Carson returned with an armful of kindling, the first thing he asked was, “Any dizziness? Any numbness?”
“I’m fine,” I promised. “It’s not like I hit my head.”
Because despite the slip, despite the cold, despite the embarrassment, I had never felt safer in my life than in the moment his arms wrapped around me as I fell.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a strange blend of normalcy and electricity. The Butterfields chattered over lunch, thrilled by the romantic lake rescue event. Jake reenacted my slip twice, each time with more dramatic flair. Emma kept winking at us.
But it was Carson who unsettled me the most.
Every time our hands brushed, he stilled. Every time I laughed, he looked too long. Every time I met his eyes with even the smallest spark of last night lingering between us, he swallowed hard and looked away.
Because tenderness shook him, and he hadn’t expected it.
I knew this because the same thing happened to me.
Because maybe, I dared to hope, he wanted more.
When Emma stepped away to photograph a perfect shot near the woods, and Jake followed, Carson finally sat beside me, our knees nearly touching.
“You scared me,” he said softly. “More than I expected.”
My breath hitched. “I’m okay.”
“I know. But that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?” I asked quietly.
He looked at me, and the world stilled around us.
“That I don’t know how to do this halfway,” he said. “Not with you.”
And something inside me shifted into a warm uncertainty that both terrified and thrilled me.
Wind rustled the pines, and my pulse beat loud in my ears.
I didn’t say anything.
Not yet.
But I didn’t look away either, and Carson’s small smile told me that, for now, that was enough.
Carson didn’t look away first.
Normally, he was the one who broke eye contact when things got too intense.
Not this time.
His gaze held mine, steady and unguarded, and for a moment, it felt like he was silently daring me to deny what had been growing between us. My heart thumped so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
“You don’t do anything halfway,” I whispered, because it was the only thing I could think to say.
His mouth twitched. “Not when it matters.”
“And I matter?”
The words were out before I could stop them. They hung between us, too fragile to touch, too honest to pull back.
His breath hitched. Just barely. But I saw it. Felt it.
“Sienna,” he began softly, “you—”
“I love Wisconsin,” Emma’s voice shrieked across the trees like a cheerleader who had never learned volume control.
Carson closed his eyes. I pressed a hand over my mouth to contain a groan.
Emma jogged toward us with her phone held high. “Guess what? I got the perfect photo of the reflection on the lake, and also, you two look SO cute right now.”
I buried my face in my hands.
I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
Carson straightened with all the dignity of a man refusing to give an audience any more ammunition.
“We have a hike to continue. Safety protocols to observe. Meal prep later. We ready to take off?” Carson asked.
“Totally ready for more.” Emma grinned like the chaos imp she was. “Maybe, I’ll try that damsel in distress move.”
I tugged lightly on Carson’s sleeve and whispered, “You know they’re never going to stop.”
He whispered back, “Then we give them less material.”
“Or more,” I said before my brain filtered it.
He blinked at me. Once. Twice.
Heat rushed into the space between us.
“I didn’t mean, I mean I did, I didn’t…” I stumble-fumbled.
“Relax, Sienna.” He winked at me.
“I’m totally relaxed,” I lied through my teeth.
“You’re vibrating.”
“I’m cold.”
“You’re wearing two jackets.”
“I’m shivering emotionally.”
He laughed quietly, the sound sliding under my skin in a way that left me warm and unsettled.
Finally, as the Butterfields wandered toward the trail again, marveling over some buckthorn that looked vaguely like a swan, Carson stood and offered me his hand.
“Ready to keep going?” he asked.
I slipped my fingers into his before I could think better of it. His hand closed around mine, firm and steady, righting something inside me I hadn’t realized was off balance.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m ready.”
He didn’t let go immediately, not even when we started walking.
But when I glanced sideways at him, breathless and warm, Carson’s eyes were soft.
And there was no denying it anymore.
I mattered to him.
And he mattered to me.
Dangerously so.