Chapter Eight
“ I’m not asking for forever. But maybe the chance.”
Leif
The words hung between us for a heartbeat—"I can't stop thinking about you"—and then she was in my arms, her lips on mine, urgent and demanding. I dropped the duffel bag, forgotten, as my hands found her waist, pulling her against me.
"Then don't," she whispered against my mouth, and something inside me broke loose, like a dam giving way after years of holding back.
I lifted her, her legs wrapping tightly around my waist as I carried her into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind us. The place was quintessentially Skye—books stacked on every surface, astronomy posters on the walls, a half-assembled telescope on the dining table. Bright. Chaotic. Alive.
"Bedroom?" I managed between kisses.
She pointed down a short hallway, and I carried her there, both of us unwilling to break contact long enough to walk separately. Her bedroom was lit only by the glow of fairy lights shaped like stars, casting a soft blue glow over rumpled sheets and more books.
I set her on the edge of the bed, finally pulling back to look at her. Her hair was wild, her eyes bright, her lips already swollen from our kisses. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
"You came all this way," she said, her fingers working on the buttons of my shirt. "Just to tell me you were thinking about me?"
"Seemed important." My voice was rough with desire.
She smiled, a slow curve of her lips that made my heart stutter. "Very important. Though you could have just sent a text."
"Don't have a phone."
"Right." The last button gave way, and she pushed the shirt off my shoulders. "We'll have to fix that."
I should have been startled by the implication—that there would be a future where she'd need to reach me, where we'd need to communicate across the distance between us. Instead, it felt right. Inevitable.
Her hands traced the contours of my chest, relearning territory she'd explored before. "I've been thinking about you too," she admitted. "Every day."
"Good." I caught her hands, bringing them to my lips. "I've been going crazy."
"Crazier than living alone in the woods already is?"
I laughed, the sound surprising me. "Yes."
I lowered her back onto the bed, following her down, our bodies aligning like we'd done this a hundred times before. There was an urgency between us that hadn't been there that night in the tent—a hunger born from two weeks of separation, of thinking we'd never have this again.
Her hands were everywhere, pulling at my clothes, her touch both familiar and new. I returned the favor, tugging her shirt over her head, revealing skin I'd dreamed about for fourteen long nights.
"I missed you," she breathed as I traced a path down her neck with my lips. "Which is ridiculous because I barely know you."
"You know me," I countered, my hand sliding under the waistband of her leggings. "Better than most."
She arched into my touch, a soft moan escaping her. "We'll have to test that theory."
What followed was nothing like that first night. Gone was the tentative exploration, the careful discovery. This was raw, desperate, both of us trying to make up for lost time. Her nails scored my back as I drove into her, my name a litany on her lips. I memorized every sound she made, every expression that crossed her face as pleasure built between us.
When she came apart beneath me, back arching, eyes closed in abandon, I followed her over the edge, blissfully falling into the waves of sensation that crashed over me.
After, we lay tangled in her sheets, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing idle patterns on her bare shoulder. The peaceful silence wrapped around us like a blanket.
"That was..." she started.
"Yeah," I agreed.
She propped herself up on one elbow, studying my face. "You know, for a man of few words, you're surprisingly expressive."
I raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning I can read your face. Like right now, you're thinking this was a crazy idea, driving all the way here in the middle of the night, but you're also thinking it was worth it."
How right she was, of course. I grinned. "Anything else I'm thinking?"
"You're wondering what happens next. So am I." She laid her head back on my chest, her voice softening. "I don't have answers."
"We don't need all the answers tonight, baby."
She nodded against my skin. "Stay? Till morning, at least?"
In response, I pulled her closer, adjusting the blankets around us. Sleep claimed us both quickly, exhausted from the emotional and physical reunion.
***
I woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains and the smell of coffee. For a moment, I was disoriented, the softness of the bed and the colorful walls so different from my sparse cabin. Then the events of last night rushed back, and I smiled.
Rising, I pulled on my jeans and followed the scent of coffee down the hallway to a small kitchen. Skye stood at the counter, wearing an oversized t-shirt with the NASA logo and nothing else, her long legs bare as she moved between the refrigerator and stove.
"Morning, Sunshine," I said, my voice still rough with sleep.
She turned, a spatula in hand, and the smile that lit her face did something to my chest I wasn't prepared for. "Hey there, Mountain Man. Hope you like pancakes. It's pretty much the only thing I can cook without setting off the smoke alarm."
"Pancakes are good." I moved to her, unable to resist wrapping my arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. "Coffee smells good too."
"Mmm." She leaned back against me. "There's a mug for you on the table. I wasn't sure how you took it, so I left it black."
"Black is perfect."
We moved around each other in a dance of newfound intimacy—the awareness of two people who knew each other's bodies but were still learning each other's daily rhythms. She flipped the flapjacks while I doctored my coffee, both of us stealing glances when we thought the other wasn't looking.
Sitting across from each other at her small kitchen table, bright morning rays catching in her tousled hair, I was struck by how right this felt. How easy. The domesticity of it all should have terrified me—had terrified me for years. Instead, I found myself wondering what it would be like to wake up to this more often.
"So," she said, pouring more syrup on her stack of pancakes. "You came all this way. What's your plan now? Heading straight back to the wilderness?"
I set down my coffee. "Actually, I've been thinking about making some changes."
Her eyebrows rose, but she didn't comment, giving me space to continue.
"I've been considering guiding again. Part-time. Maybe setting up a storefront in town for the knives." The ideas had been forming over the past two weeks but saying them out loud made them suddenly real. "I could come into Missoula. Sometimes."
"Sometimes," she repeated, a small smile playing at her lips.
"I'm not saying I'm moving to the city," I clarified. "The cabin is still home. But maybe... maybe I don't need to be there all the time."
She nodded, understanding what I wasn't quite saying. "And what brought on this change of heart?"
"You." The simple truth. "You make me see things differently. The night sky. The world. Myself." I paused, searching for the right words. "I've been surviving, but that’s not the same as living. Maybe it's time to start doing that again. Feeling. Caring."
Her hand found mine across the table, our fingers intertwining. "That's a lot of change all at once."
"It is."
"Are you sure?"
I considered the question, really considered it. Was I ready to rejoin the world, even partially? To open myself up to the complications and messiness of human connection again?
Looking at Skye—her bright eyes, her gentle smile, the way she'd stormed into my carefully ordered existence and turned everything upside down—I knew the answer.
"Yes," I said. "I'm sure."
She squeezed my hand. "I'm not sure where this is going, Leif. Between us, I mean. It's fast and intense and—"
"And?"
"And I'm not done with you yet," she finished. "Whatever this is we have, I want to see where it leads."
Relief flooded through me. "As do I."
"So what now? Weekend visits? You teaching me how to not die in the woods? Me teaching you about lesson plans and the wonders of delivery pizza?"
I laughed, the sound coming easier now. "All of the above. We figure it out as we go."
"Very scientific approach," she teased.
"I thought you'd approve."
She rose from her chair, coming around the table to settle in my lap, her arms looping around my neck. "I do approve. Very much."
Her kiss was sweet with maple syrup, and I found myself thinking that maybe this—this this warmth and this need and this woman—was what I'd been avoiding all these years. Not because I didn't want it, but because I wanted it too much.
"I’m not demanding forever," I said against her lips. "But perhaps we could give it a chance."
She pulled back slightly, studying my face with those bright, intelligent eyes. "I'd like that."
As we sat there, making plans for the coming weekend—her driving up to the cabin, me showing her the proper trails—I realized that for the first time in years, I was looking forward to the future. Not just enduring it but anticipating it.
The details would sort themselves out. For now, it was enough to know that when she looked at the night sky, she'd be thinking of me. And when I looked up from my mountain, I'd know she was out there.
Skye traced her fingers along my jaw, that smile I couldn't get enough of spreading across her face. "You know what, Mountain Man?"
"What's that?"
"Whatever the future holds, I’d say this is a very bright beginning.”
I laughed and cupped her cheek. “You got that right, Sunshine.”
And then I bent my head and pressed my lips to hers.