Chapter 6
SIX
HAYES
When I open my eyes in the morning, it’s to the most beautiful woman in my arms.
Elise is curled against me. Her breath is swarm on my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over my ribs. I tighten my hold on her, like maybe if I hold her close enough, the world outside this cabin won’t matter.
But I know better.
The storm has quieted down. That means we’ll have to face the reality of the world soon enough.
I should get up. I should put distance between us before the real world crashes back in.
But I don’t.
Instead, I press a kiss to her temple and close my eyes, just breathing her in. The steady rise and fall of her chest against mine is a balm, lulling me into a rare kind of peace.
She stirs a little and murmurs, “Coffee?”
I chuckle, the sound rumbling through my chest. “Give me five minutes and you’ll have the best damn cup you’ve ever had.”
Reluctantly, I untangle myself from her and pull on my jeans, padding over to the stove to get the fire going and set up the percolator.
Elise wraps herself in a blanket and watches me, her hair messy and her cheeks still flushed from sleep. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You’re staring,” I say, gruff.
She grins. “Can you blame me?”
I shake my head, unable to keep from smiling.
We drink our coffee in a comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other over the rims of our mugs. It’s too easy to imagine more mornings like this—her in my shirt, in my bed, in my life.
Dangerous thoughts.
When she finishes her coffee, she sets the mug down and stretches, the blanket slipping from her shoulders.
“Show me how to chop wood,” she says suddenly.
I blink. “You want to learn how to split logs?”
“You never know.” Determination lights her face. “It might come in handy someday.”
I chuckle and pull on a flannel, tossing another to her. She catches it and slips it on, buttoning it halfway and knotting the ends at her waist.
Jesus. I roll my eyes.
“What?”
“It’s cold outside.”
“Duh. I’ll wear a coat.”
Outside, the air is biting, but the sky is clear, the snow piled high and sparkling under the sun. I grab the axe and a few logs from the woodpile.
“Watch,” I instruct, setting a log on the chopping block.
She stands close, arms folded against the cold, her gaze locked on me.
I split the log cleanly, the axe biting deep with a satisfying crack.
“Your turn.”
She steps up, determination written all over her face. I hand her the axe, adjusting her grip.
“Here,” I murmur, moving behind her. My hands cover hers, guiding them into place. I’m close enough to feel the shiver that runs through her—not from the cold.
“Lift with your legs, not your back,” I instruct, my voice low in her ear.
She nods, and together we swing. The axe sinks into the wood with a satisfying thud, though it doesn’t split.
“Good,” I murmur. “Try again.”
This time, she gets it, the log splitting cleanly. She cheers and turns to me, beaming.
I can’t help it. I grab her and kiss her, quick and hard.
She laughs against my mouth. “I like this reward system.”
“Keep it up and you’ll earn more,” I promise, my hands sliding down her back.
We split a few more logs before heading back inside, cheeks flushed, breaths clouding in the cold.
The morning passes in a lazy haze. More coffee, more stolen kisses, more quiet touches that say everything we’re not ready to voice.
I make lunch—a simple stew—and we eat by the fire, cross-legged on the rug, passing the pot back and forth. She tells me about her plans for the fall, for teaching, and I listen, soaking in every word.
At one point, she leans back against the couch and looks at me, serious.
“Do you ever think about the future?” she asks.
“Every damn day,” I admit.
“And do you see me in it?”
I set the pot down and move closer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You’re the only thing I see,” I say.
Her smile is soft, a little shy, and she leans in, brushing her lips over mine.
When she pulls back, her eyes are bright.
“Good,” she whispers.
I pull her to the sofa and settle on the ground between her knees to begin an afternoon of bliss.
As evening falls, and we lie tangled up in each other on the couch, a gnawing unease settles in my gut.
And when the knock comes at the door, it’s like a firecracker in the silence.
Elise startles, her hand flying to her chest. I motion for her to stay put as I pull on my jeans and move to the door.
When I open it, a blast of cold air sweeps in. There standing there, looking grim and windswept, is her father.
Fuck.
“Hell, John,” I mutter. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you think? I’m here to get…”
His gaze flicks past me and lands on Elise. Who is standing by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, my flannel still knotted at her waist.
His eyes narrows and his jaw tightens.
“John.” I run a hand through my hair. “It’s not what it?—”
“I’ll take it from here.” His voice takes on a hard edge. “Would you step out?”
“John—”
“Would you get the fuck out here?”
I scowl at him. “This is my place.”
“And this is my daughter. In case you didn’t remember.”
Elise winces and gives me a pleading look. “Do you mind?”
Though I’d rather not leave her alone, I give my own tight-jawed nod. I step out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind me, and face him.
“She’s fine,” I say. “Better than fine.”
“I’m sure she is,” John snaps. “But she’s my daughter.”
I clench my fists, struggling to keep my temper in check.
“Hayes,” he says, softer now. “You know how this looks. You know what people will say.”
I swallow hard. I do know.
I also know he’s right.
“She’s not a kid anymore,” I say quietly.
“Maybe not. But you and I both know she deserves better than… this.” He gestures between us, his meaning clear.
I look away, the words cutting deeper than I want to admit.
“I’m taking her home,” he says.
I nod stiffly, throat too tight to speak.
When I step back inside, Elise is already pulling on her boots, her expression stricken.
“Elise—” I start.
But she shakes her head, her mouth a firm line.
“I know,” she whispers. “I have to go.”
I don’t stop her.
I can’t.
I watch as she gathers her things, avoiding my gaze. With barely more than a parting glance, she slips out the door.
It closes behind them with a finality that guts me.
I stand there for a long moment, the cabin suddenly too empty, too quiet.
Maybe I should’ve fought harder.
Maybe I should’ve said something.
Instead, I let her go. Without a God-damn word.