Chapter 8
Zane
With each ragged inhalation, the crisp mountain air sears my lungs, but the familiar sting is grounding. Centering. Up here in the remote alpine sanctuary I call home, the cacophony of thoughts ricocheting through my skull finally begins to quiet.
I”m deep in the rugged backcountry before I finally shrug the heavy pack from my shoulders and begin the methodical ritual of making camp. Hammer the stakes, lash the guy lines, unfurl the compact tent. The familiar motions settle over me like a comforting shroud, quieting the riot of emotions still swirling in my gut.
Aspen”s face flashes in my mind, those expressive green eyes blazing with the same fiery ambition that first drew me to her all those years ago. Except now, that intensity is twisted into something cold and calculating.
My fingers still as fresh embers of anger stoke to life. She didn”t even hesitate before pitching those corporate douchebags on turning Camp Silverpine into some gaudy, overdeveloped tourist trap.
She belongs to that slick, cutthroat world of high-rises and power suits. I”m a nomad who finds solace in the vast, indifferent emptiness that stretches endlessly from horizon to horizon. We were trying to graft two fundamentally opposing pieces together, like stitching a wild grizzly bear pelt to a designer evening gown.
No matter how much we might crave that bond we once shared, maybe we”re simply too different now.
So consumed by my thoughts and the task of making camp, I don”t immediately register the telltale crunch of boots over the gravelly scree until they”re nearly on top of me. I whirl reflexively, drawing my hunting blade up in a defensive arc as adrenaline spikes through my bloodstream.
And just like that, every ounce of hostility drains away in a nauseating rush.
Aspen stands rooted to the spot, chest heaving from exertion. Her fiery tresses are tousled by the biting wind, crimson tendrils whipping across those delicate features like the flickering tongues of a flame.
”Dammit, Zane,” she says, sounding frustrated and exhausted. ”You don”t get to do this again. Not after everything...”
The words seem to catch in her throat, Aspen”s gaze falling to the knife still clutched in my white-knuckled grip. She takes a reflexive half-step back.
”I wasn”t...” I force the blade away, sheathing it quickly before raising my palms in a gesture of surrender. ”You startled me, Red. That”s all.”
She nods, seeming to gather herself. ”Yeah, well, I figured I”d better track you down before you disappeared into the wilderness for another decade.”
The biting words strike their intended mark, the guilt lancing through me like shrapnel to the gut. I open my mouth, grasping for a retort—anything to deflect or downplay the hurt I”ve caused her yet again.
But Aspen”s expression softens infinitesimally, her jaw setting in that telltale display of stubborn resolve I know all too well.
”I get it,” she murmurs after a loaded pause, worrying her plump lower lip in a way that has me aching to taste the softness. ”Why you ran. And I”m not going to apologize for trying to secure investors to save the camp. But I should”ve looped you in instead of letting my corporate blinders take over.”
Aspen sucks in a sharp breath, seeming to steel herself for the admission that follows.
”That entire life—the job, the ambition, all of it... it was about trying to prove something to everyone else. Showing I could make it without needing to rely on anyone, that I was strong and self-sufficient and successful.” She huffs out a mirthless chuckle, shaking her head. ”But I wasn”t happy, Zane. Not really. I was just chasing the kind of shallow validation you can never seem to get enough of.”
My throat works hard, the words refusing to form as Aspen continues.
”Being back here with you, reconnecting with this place... it”s like I finally woke up from some kind of trance. And I don”t want to lose that again,” Aspen whispers fiercely. ”I don”t want to lose touch with the things—the people—that truly make me feel whole and alive.”
Her words seem to hover there, hanging on each puff of air between us. I should say something. Anything. But I”m struck speechless in the wake of her confession, that fragile ember of hope flaring brighter with each passing heartbeat.
Aspen doesn”t seem fazed by my silence, though. She simply holds my stare, the corner of those full lips quirking in a grin that has warmth blooming through me despite the frigid mountain air.
”So how”s this sound—you teach me to reconnect with my wild side and embrace a little more adventure. And I”ll help you see that a few modern upgrades to Camp Silverpine won”t necessarily corrupt its spirit.”
My throat works hard as I process her words, her willingness to meet halfway. She”s offering me a lifeline, a chance to meld our disparate halves into something whole.
I should take it. I want to, more than anything. And yet that same insidious voice of doubt persists, whispering that it”s too much of a risk. That I”ll never be worthy of the kind of happiness she”s promising, not after all the hurt I”ve caused.
Aspen seems to sense the war raging within me. Taking another step forward, she reaches out to brush the backs of her knuckles over the scruff of my jaw.
”Come back to me, Zane,” she breathes in that low, throaty rasp that has always been my undoing. ”We can do this, you and me. Build something incredible here, the way we always dreamed.”
The conviction in her voice is absolute, and suddenly, I”m powerless to resist any longer. I surge forward and crush Aspen to me, tangling my fingers in those glorious crimson tresses to angle her mouth against mine. The kiss is all heat and desperation, an apology and a promise and a vow all blended into a searing brand.
A low rumble builds in my throat, part growl and part groan as I break away to trail a blazing path over the delicate curve of her throat.
”You”re sure about this?” I rasp out between heated, open-mouthed kisses. ”Because once I”ve got you out here, all bets are off. I might never let you go again...”
”Then don”t,” she husks, eyes blazing up at me with naked yearning. ”Don”t ever let me go again, Zane. I”m yours, always.”
Those words are like a brand searing into my battered soul, the absolution I”ve sought for so damn long. I can feel every last vestige of doubt, every shred of resistance crumbling away as Aspen gazes up at me with utter certainty.
In a sudden whirlwind of movement, I sweep her up into my arms. She gives a throaty peal of laughter as she loops her arms around my neck, and I carry her toward the tent, trading scorching kisses with every step.
There will be no more running. No more self-imposed exiles or anguished separations. We”ve both wandered too far down those lonely paths for far too long. From here on out, it”s just us—two soulmates reunited in the untamed wilderness that first ignited our passion.
And this time, nothing and no one will ever tear us apart again.