Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
THE STORM DEEPENS
AVERY
By nightfall, Avery had learned three things about Logan Maddox.
One: He was the most patient teacher she'd ever had, methodical, thorough, never rushing through explanations, even when she asked the same question twice.
Two: He was absolutely terrified of touching her for longer than necessary.
And three: He wanted to anyway.
She'd caught him watching her at least a dozen times throughout the day. When she was practicing splint applications. When she was reviewing her notes. When she'd stretched her arms over her head and her shirt had ridden up, exposing a strip of skin at her waist.
Each time, he'd looked away immediately, jaw tight, shoulders rigid.
Like he was punishing himself for noticing.
Avery stirred the soup Logan had made, something simple with dried vegetables and cured meat, and tried not to smile.
She'd come to Bitterroot Ridge expecting a grumpy hermit who'd tolerate her presence long enough to sign off on her certification. Once they got started, he’d see how competent she was and agree to keep going for the full two weeks.
She hadn't expected this.
The pull between them. The tension that made the small cabin feel even smaller. The way he said her name like it cost him something.
She hadn't expected to want him.
But she did.
God, she did.
"Food's ready," she called.
Logan emerged from the corner where he'd been organizing medical supplies, again, because apparently reorganizing things he'd already organized was how he dealt with stress.
His hair was mussed like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was a tightness around his eyes that hadn't been there that morning.
"You didn't have to cook," he said.
"You made breakfast and lunch. It's my turn." She ladled soup into two bowls. "Besides, if we're going to be stuck here together, we might as well be civil about it."
"Civil." He sat down across from her, and she noticed he'd positioned his chair as far from hers as the small table allowed. "Is that what we're being?"
"What would you call it?"
Logan picked up his spoon. "Complicated,” he said, the word coming out like a warning.
Avery laughed. "That's one word for it."
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Outside, the storm continued its assault on the cabin. The wind had picked up around noon and hadn't let up since. Snow was piled so high against the windows that the world beyond felt like it had ceased to exist.
It was just the two of them. This cabin. The crackling fire.
And all the things neither of them was saying.
"Tell me about your mother," Logan said suddenly.
Avery's spoon paused halfway to her mouth. "Why?"
"You mentioned her yesterday. Said your father's been overprotective since she died." His dark eyes met hers. "I'm asking."
She should've deflected. Should've changed the subject.
But something about the way he was looking at her, steady, patient, like he actually wanted to know, made her tell the truth.
"Car accident," she said quietly. "I was sixteen. Drunk driver ran a red light downtown." She set her spoon down. "She died before the ambulance got there."
Logan's expression didn't change, but his hand tightened on his spoon. "I'm sorry."
"My dad was on duty when the call came in. He got there first." Avery wrapped her arms around herself. "He held her while she bled out. Tried to stop it, but there was too much damage. She was gone before the paramedics arrived."
"Jesus."
"After that, he couldn't…” Her voice caught. "He couldn't let me out of his sight. Every time I left the house, he'd worry. Every time I was late coming home, he'd imagine the worst." She looked up at Logan. "That's why I became an EMT. Because I wanted to save people the way he couldn't save her."
Logan was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "That's why he sent you to me."
"What do you mean?"
"He sent you to the one person in Bitterroot Ridge he knew wouldn't let anything happen to you." Logan's jaw tightened. "Even if it meant protecting you from myself."
Avery's chest ached. "Logan…”
"He trusts me because someone vouched for me. Because I've never given anyone in this town a reason not to trust me." He stood abruptly, taking his bowl to the basin. "He doesn't know what I'm actually thinking."
"And what are you thinking?"
His shoulders tensed. "Nothing appropriate."
"Good."
Logan turned, his expression almost angry. "That's not good, Avery. That's…”
She stood, crossing the small space between them. "Normal? You're acting like being attracted to me makes you some kind of monster."
"I'm fourteen years older than you."
"So?"
Logan's hands curled into fists. "You don't know what you're saying."
"Yes, I do." She stopped in front of him, close enough to see the war happening behind his eyes. "I'm twenty-two. I'm capable of making my own decisions. And I'm deciding that I like you."
"You don't know me."
"Then tell me." She tilted her head, challenging him. "Tell me what you think I should know. Tell me why you're so convinced you're not safe."
For a moment, she thought he'd shut down. Retreat behind those walls he'd built so carefully.
Instead, he said, "I lost a lot of good people."
Avery went still.
"My last deployment." Logan's voice was flat, detached. "A mission went wrong. Someone I was responsible for…” He stopped, his jaw working. "I couldn't save them."
"Logan, you don't have to…”
“I froze,” he said, throat working, like the word itself scraped on the way out. "When it mattered most, I froze. And they died because of it."
Avery's throat tightened. She could see the devastation in his eyes, the guilt that had carved itself into every line of his face.
"After that, every time I tried to work, every time someone needed help…” He stopped again, his hands gripping the counter. "I came here to figure out if I could still do the job. Two years later, I'm still not sure."
She wanted to ask more. Wanted to know what happened, who he'd lost, what kind of mission haunted a man this badly.
But she could see him shutting down, the walls going back up brick by brick.
"You're not frozen now," she said quietly.
"No?"
"No. You're teaching me. You've been patient and thorough, and exactly what I needed." She took a step closer. "You're still a healer, Logan. Whatever happened didn't take that away."
His hand came up like he wanted to touch her, then dropped. "You make it sound simple."
"It's not. But it's true."
They stood there in the firelight, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. Close enough to see the muscle working in his jaw, the barely controlled tension in his shoulders.
"I shouldn't want this," Logan said finally, his voice rough. "Shouldn't want you."
"But you do."
"Yes."
The admission hung between them, heavy and inevitable.
Avery's heart raced. "Then stop fighting it."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because…” He stopped, his jaw working. "Because you deserve better than a broken man in a cabin."
"What if I don't want better?" She stepped closer, until there was barely any space between them.
“What if I don’t want perfect? What if I just want you?”
Logan's breath caught. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she saw the exact moment his control started to crack.
"Avery," he said, her name a warning and a plea.
"Logan," she whispered back.
She rose on her toes, her hand settling on his chest. His heart hammered beneath her palm, too fast, too hard. She could feel the tension vibrating through him, the way every muscle had locked down like he was physically holding himself back.
She leaned in slowly, giving him time to move away.
He didn't.
Their breath mingled. Her lips were a hairsbreadth from his.
And then Logan turned his head, like the last thread of his restraint finally snapped taut.
"No." His voice was wrecked. "No, we can't…”
Avery's eyes stung. "Logan…”
"I can't." He caught her wrists, gently, carefully, and stepped back, putting distance between them. "Christ, Avery, I can't."
Her lips tingled from almost touching his. Her entire body thrummed with want and frustration. "Why not?"
"Because you're…” He dragged a hand through his hair. "Because your father trusts me."
"I don't care what my father thinks."
"Well, I do." Logan's chest heaved. "He sent you here because he thought you'd be safe. And the first time we're alone together, I almost…" He couldn't finish.
"Almost what? Almost kissed me?" Avery's voice shook. "You didn't. You pulled away. You're acting like you did something wrong when all you did was show restraint."
"That doesn't make it right."
"It doesn't make it wrong, either."
Logan shook his head, his expression agonized. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
"I can't be what you need."
"You don't know what I need."
"Yes, I do." His voice dropped. "You need someone whole. Someone who doesn't…” He stopped himself. "Someone who isn't counting the seconds until he can be alone again." He met her eyes. "That's not me."
Avery's throat tightened. "What if I don't need perfect? What if I just need honest?"
"Honest?" Logan's laugh was bitter. "Honestly, I've been thinking about kissing you since the second you walked through that door. Honestly, I want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss you. And honestly, that terrifies me."
"Why?"
"Because the last time I let someone close…” He stopped, his expression shuttering. "It didn't end well."
The words were deliberately vague, but Avery heard what he wasn't saying. Whoever he'd lost, it had destroyed him.
"So you're just going to push me away," she said quietly.
"Yes."
"Even though you want me."
"Especially because I want you." He gripped the counter hard enough that his knuckles went white. "The storm will clear eventually. And when it does, you're leaving. That's the deal."
Avery's chest ached. "And if I don't want to?"
He didn't look at her. "Go to bed, Avery. Please."
She wanted to argue. Wanted to make him look at her, make him see that pushing her away wasn't protecting either of them.
But she could hear the exhaustion in his voice. The fear beneath the anger.
And she could still feel the ghost of his breath against her lips, so close, almost there, then nothing.
So instead, she said, "Okay."
Logan's shoulders sagged slightly.
Avery moved to the cot, her lips still tingling from what hadn't happened, her body still humming with unfulfilled want.
She lay down fully clothed, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
The fire crackled. The storm howled.
And across the cabin, Logan Maddox stood in the shadows, shoulders rigid, fighting a war with himself.
Avery closed her eyes.
But she didn't sleep.
And she knew, from the way she could still feel him watching her, that neither did he.