6. Six
Six
Scarlett
When I wake up the second time, sunlight is streaming through the cabin windows. The storm has passed, leaving behind that crystal-clear quiet that only comes after nature has had her tantrum and moved on.
But nothing inside me feels quiet anymore.
Because everything has changed.
Sawyer's still asleep beside me, one arm draped possessively across my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck.
I should feel awkward. Should be second-guessing what happened between us in the heat of the moment. Should be planning my graceful exit back to the real world.
Instead, I feel... complete. Like I've been walking around with a piece of myself missing and finally found it in the arms of a mountain man who barely speaks in full sentences.
The rational part of my brain is screaming warnings. I don't know him. This is moving too fast. I have a life waiting for me down the mountain. A job, an apartment, responsibilities.
But my heart isn't listening to logic anymore.
Careful not to wake him, I ease out of bed. I find my clothes—now dry—folded neatly on a chair. Of course he folded them. He’s so thoughtful. So… perfect.
I slip outside to the front porch, wrapping myself in one of his flannel shirts that hangs by the door. The morning air is crisp and clean. Birds are singing in the trees like they're celebrating the storm's passing.
I sit on the steps, knees pulled to my chest, trying to make sense of the tangle of emotions in my head. Trying to figure out what comes next.
I don't hear him approach, but I feel him. The way the air shifts. The way my skin suddenly aches to be touched.
Sawyer settles beside me on the step, barefoot and shirtless, holding two steaming mugs of coffee. He hands me one without a word, and I wrap my fingers around the ceramic, grateful for the warmth.
We sit like that for a while, watching the mist rise from the valley below. Just... being.
He clears his throat. "You thinking about leaving?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with everything we haven't said. Everything we're both afraid to voice.
I stare at the steam curling off my coffee, searching for the right words. "I don't know."
He nods like he expected that answer. "I live alone for a reason, Scarlett," he says quietly. "I didn't think I needed anything else."
I glance at him sideways. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the horizon like he's trying to see the future written in the tree line.
"But then you showed up," he continues. "And I started thinking maybe the mountain knew something I didn't."
"The mountain?"
He turns to look at me fully then, and the intensity in his gaze steals my breath.
"There's an old saying around here," he says. "The locals believe the mountain has its own code. Its own way of doing things."
"What kind of code?"
"You stay alone," he says slowly, "until the mountain sends you… what you need."
I swallow hard. "You think it sent me?"
He shrugs, but there's nothing casual about the gesture. "You think you found me by accident? That the trail washed out exactly where it needed to, and the storm hit exactly when it did? You ended up exactly where you were supposed to be."
The logic is insane. Completely irrational.
And yet...
"I wasn't looking for you," I whisper.
"I know."
"I came up here to find some peace. Some quiet. Some space to figure out my life."
"And did you? Find what you were looking for?"
I look at him. At the strong line of his jaw. At the careful way he's holding himself, like he's preparing for me to break his heart.
"I found something," I admit. "I'm just not sure it's what I came looking for."
"But?"
"But maybe it's what I needed."
Something shifts in his expression. Hope, maybe? Or fear? Maybe a little of both?
"I know this is crazy," I continue, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "I know it doesn't make sense. We barely know each other. This is moving way too fast. I have a life there, responsibilities..."
"But?"
I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together. His grip is strong, certain, like a buoy in choppy water.
"But I've never felt anything like this before," I say. "Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. With exactly who I'm supposed to be with."
His thumb traces across my knuckles, sending shivers up my arm.
"You don't have to decide today," he says. "Storm's passed, but there'll be others. Winter's coming. I won’t lie, it gets hard up here when the snow hits."
"Are you trying to scare me away?"
"I'm trying to be honest." He meets my eyes. "I'm not easy, Scarlett. I don't talk much. I don't like many people. I've built my whole life around being alone."
"But?"
A slow smile stretches across his face—the first real smile I've seen from him.
"But now that I’ve met you, I never want to be alone again."
My heart does that fluttering thing again, like it's trying to escape my chest and fly straight to him.
"What would that look like?" I ask.
"I don't know," he admits. "We'd figure it out as we go."
I think about my apartment in the city. My job that pays well but leaves me feeling empty. My friends who wouldn't understand this choice in a million years. The life I've built that looks perfect on paper but feels like a cage.
Then I think about waking up in Sawyer's arms. About the peace I felt in his cabin. About the way he looks at me like I'm something precious.
"I'm scared," I whisper.
"You never have to be scared with me.”
I lean into his warmth, and he wraps his arm around me, pulling me close.
"Stay," he says against my hair. "At least for a while. See how it feels."
And looking out at the mountains, breathing in the clean air, feeling more alive than I have in years...
“Okay.”