Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
THE LINE THEY CROSSED
LOGAN
Logan didn't sleep.
He sat in the chair by the fire, watching the flames die down to embers, listening to Avery's breathing even out into something that might've been sleep.
Might've been.
He wasn't entirely sure she was actually sleeping any more than he was.
The almost-kiss played on repeat in his head. The way she'd looked at him, determined, wanting, unafraid. The way she'd risen on her toes, her hand warm against his chest. The way her breath had ghosted across his lips for one perfect, terrible second before he'd turned away.
He'd done the right thing.
So why did it feel like the worst mistake he'd ever made?
Logan scrubbed a hand over his face. Dawn was still hours away, but he couldn't sit here anymore. Couldn't stay in this cabin with her soft breathing and the memory of how close he'd come to breaking every promise he'd made to himself.
He stood quietly, pulled on his jacket, and slipped outside.
The cold hit him like a fist. The storm had finally broken sometime after midnight, leaving behind a world buried in white. Snow came up to his knees, pristine and untouched. The sky was clearing, stars emerging through breaks in the clouds.
Beautiful. Deadly. Exactly the kind of night that killed people who didn't respect the mountains.
Logan waded through the drifts to the woodpile, needing something to do with his hands. He split logs with methodical precision, each swing of the axe a release of the tension coiled in his shoulders.
Avery Grayson was leaving as soon as the trail was passable. That was the plan. That was the only plan that made sense.
The fact that he didn't want her to leave?
That was his problem to deal with.
The axe came down harder than necessary, splitting the log clean through.
He'd almost kissed her. Christ, he'd been so close. Another second and he would've crossed that line, would've given in to everything he'd been fighting since she'd knocked on his door.
And then what?
Then she'd finish her certification and go back to town. Back to her father, her life, her future. And Logan would still be here, alone in his cabin, remembering what it felt like to want something he couldn't have.
Better to end it now. Keep the distance. Get her down the mountain and out of his life before,
"You're going to freeze out here."
Logan spun.
Avery stood in the doorway, wrapped in one of his blankets, her hair loose around her shoulders. The firelight from inside backlit her, turning her into a silhouette he'd see in his dreams for months.
"Go back inside," he said.
"No."
"Avery…”
"You've been out here for over an hour." She stepped onto the porch, bare feet on cold wood. "Come inside before you get hypothermia."
"I'm fine."
"You're not." She crossed her arms, the blanket tightening around her curves. "You're out here at three in the morning splitting wood like it personally wronged you."
Logan set the axe down. "Couldn't sleep."
"Neither could I."
Of course she couldn't. Because nothing about this situation was simple or easy or anything other than a disaster waiting to happen.
"Storm's breaking," he said, nodding toward the sky. "Trail should be passable by tomorrow. Day after at the latest."
"And you’re happy about that, right?" She moved closer, and he saw she'd put her boots on under the blanket. Smart. "You've been trying to get rid of me since I arrived. Last night was just more proof that you can't wait for me to leave."
Logan's jaw tightened. "That's not true."
"No? You practically ran out here the second you thought I was asleep."
"I needed air."
"You needed distance." She stopped at the edge of the porch, close enough that he could see the hurt in her eyes. "From me."
He wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell her she was wrong.
But she wasn't.
"Yes," he said quietly.
Avery flinched like he'd slapped her.
"I need distance," Logan continued, "because being near you makes me want things I can't have. Because every time you look at me, I forget why this is a bad idea. Because I came so close to kissing you that I can still feel it."
Her breath caught.
"So yes," he said, his voice rough. "I needed distance. Before I did something we'd both regret."
"Who says I'd regret it?"
"You would. Eventually." He moved toward her, closing the space he'd been so desperate to maintain.
"When you realize I'm not the man you think I am.
When you see that I'm broken in ways that can't be fixed.
When you understand that I came to this mountain to be alone because that's all I know how to be. "
Avery tilted her head back to meet his eyes. "You're wrong."
"Am I?"
"Yes." Her hand emerged from the blanket, settling on his chest like it had the night before. "You think you're broken. I think you're hurting. There's a difference."
Logan's hand came up, covering hers. "Avery...”
“And you're not alone because that's all you know how to be. You're alone because you're scared." Her eyes searched his. "Scared of what happens if you let someone in. Scared of losing them. Scared that whatever went wrong before will go wrong again."
His chest tightened. She was too perceptive. Too smart. Too close to the truth he'd been running from for two years.
She stepped closer, until the blanket brushed against his jacket.
Her thumb brushed across his chest, small, deliberate. Logan's hand tightened over hers. "That doesn't make it right."
"Maybe not. But it makes it real."
They stood there in the pre-dawn darkness, breath misting in the frozen air, her hand warm against his chest.
"Life's not fair, Logan. My mother died in my father's arms. You lost people you cared about.
People get hurt and broken and scared." She moved closer still, until he could feel the warmth of her through the cold.
"But you don't get to use that as an excuse to push away everyone who might care about you. "
"I'm not...”
“Yes, you are." Her voice was gentle but firm. "You’re not pushing me away because you don’t want me. You’re pushing me away because you do, and that terrifies you.
Well, I'm terrified too. I'm terrified of wanting someone who doesn't want me back.
I'm terrified of going back to town and spending the rest of my life wondering what would've happened if I'd been brave enough to stay. "
Logan's throat tightened. "Avery...”
“So tell me honestly," she said, her eyes locked on his. "Do you want me to leave?"
The answer was immediate, visceral, and undeniable.
No.
But what he said was, "It doesn't matter what I want." He’d never said anything less true.
She reached up, her hand cupping his jaw. "It's just us, Logan. Just you and me and this mountain. So tell me the truth. Do you want me to leave?"
His hand came up, covering hers. Her skin was soft, warm despite the cold. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingers.
"No," he said finally, the word dragged from somewhere deep. "I don't want you to leave."
Her smile was small, sad, beautiful. "Then stop trying to make me."
"It's not that simple."
"Yes, it is."
"Avery...”
She rose on her toes, and Logan's breath stopped.
"I'm going back inside," she said quietly. "And you're coming with me. Not because you have to. Because you want to."
She stepped back, the blanket falling away from one shoulder, and turned toward the cabin.
Logan stood frozen, watching her go.
He should stay out here. Should keep splitting wood until the sun came up and his hands were too cold to feel. Should maintain every wall he'd built between them.
Instead, he followed her inside.
The cabin was warm after the bitter cold outside. Avery moved to the fireplace, adding logs from the stack inside, coaxing the embers back to life.
Logan closed the door behind him and stood there, jacket still on, snow melting off his boots.
"Take off your coat," Avery said without turning around. "You're dripping everywhere."
He obeyed mechanically, hanging the jacket by the door. His hands were red from the cold, his fingers stiff.
Avery glanced over her shoulder. "Come here."
"I'm fine."
"Logan." She stood, moving toward him. "Let me see your hands."
"They're just cold."
"Then let me warm them up."
She took his hands in hers before he could protest, her smaller fingers wrapping around his. Her touch was gentle, methodical, checking for frostbite, assessing circulation.
Professional. Exactly what he'd taught her to do.
Except there was nothing professional about the way his body responded to her touch.
"No frostbite," she said quietly. "But you're freezing. You’re reckless." But there was no heat in the word. Just concern.
She kept his hands in hers, rubbing warmth back into them with slow, deliberate movements. Logan watched her face, the concentration there, the care she was taking.
Like he mattered.
"You'd make a good medic," he said roughly.
Avery looked up at him. "You think so?"
"I know so." His voice dropped. "You're competent. Calm under pressure. You actually care about the people you're helping."
"So do you."
"Not the same way you do."
"Why not?"
Logan was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Because I learned to treat people like problems to solve. You treat them like people."
Her hands stilled. "Is that what I am to you? A problem to solve?"
"No." The word came out harsher than he'd intended. "You're...”
“What?"
Everything he shouldn't want. Everything he couldn't have. Everything that terrified him because the thought of losing her already hurt and she wasn't even his.
"Complicated," he said finally.
Avery's laugh was soft. "You keep using that word."
"Because it's true."
"Maybe." She released one of his hands, but kept holding the other. "Or maybe you're making it complicated because simple scares you more."
"Simple?"
"You want me. I want you. That's simple."
"Nothing about this is simple, Avery."
"Then make it simple." She looked up at him, her eyes clear and direct. "The trail's clearing. By tomorrow, I'll be gone. So we have tonight. Maybe tomorrow. That's it."
Logan's chest tightened. "And then what?"
"Then I go back to town. You stay here. Life goes on."
"You think it's that easy?"
"No." Her voice softened. "But I think it's better than spending the rest of my life wondering what would've happened if we'd both been brave enough to try."
His free hand came up, cupping her face before he could stop himself. Her skin was soft, warm, perfect beneath his scarred palm.
"You don't know what you're asking," he said.
"Yes, I do."
"I can't give you more than a few days."
"I'm not asking for more than that."
"You deserve more."
"Maybe." She leaned into his touch. "But right now, I just want this. Want you."
Logan's control, already hanging by a thread, frayed further.
"Avery," he said, her name a warning and a surrender.
"Logan," she whispered back.
And this time, when she rose on her toes, he didn't turn away.
But he didn't close the distance either.
Instead, he held her there, suspended in the space between wanting and having, between restraint and surrender.
"If we do this," he said quietly, "there's no going back."
"I know."
"Your father will never forgive me."
"That's his problem, not yours."
"And when you leave...”
“We'll deal with it then." Her hand tightened in his. "But right now, Logan, I'm asking you to stop thinking about what happens next. Stop worrying about my father. Stop trying to protect me from yourself." Her eyes met his. "And just be here. With me."
His thumb brushed across her cheekbone. "You're asking for something I don't know how to give."
She smiled, a small, sad, yet hopeful expression. "We'll learn together."
Logan stood there, her face cradled in his palm, her hand warm in his, every reason why this was a bad idea warring with the one truth he couldn't deny:
He didn't want her to leave.
And he was tired of pretending he did.
"We'll figure it out." She pressed closer, trying to get him out of his head. "Right now, I'm cold and tired and tired of fighting this. So either tell me to go back to bed, or...”
He didn’t let her finish.
His mouth crashed into hers, two days of restraint snapping all at once.
Not gentle. Not careful. Just desperate and hungry and two days of restraint shattering all at once.
Avery made a sound, surprise, relief, want, and her arms came around his neck, pulling him closer.
This wasn't the almost-kiss from earlier. This was real. Hot. Demanding.
Logan's hands slid to her waist, hauling her against him, and she pressed into him like she'd been waiting for this since the second they'd met.
Maybe she had been.
Maybe they both had.
He broke the kiss long enough to say, "We shouldn't...”
“Don't care," Avery gasped.
Then she pulled him back down, and Logan stopped thinking entirely.