19. Storm
Max and I wait as Silas unlocks the door. The cottages are strategically placed by the nicest view on the ranch for the best guest experience.
And this one sits on the sweet spot of the strip. Where the view opens up the widest.
I’ve never been inside one of these. No reason to. I’m not in charge of maintenance. I’m on the other side, minding the horses. But I’ve ridden by plenty to appreciate the charm.
Silas pushes open the door and steps inside, flicking the switch. Warm light spills over the entry threshold. I let Max go in first, then step in tentatively behind him.
It smells clean inside. Wood, florals, and something faintly citrusy. Max immediately plops down on a big couch, testing its comfort or bounce capacity.
The place is small but not cramped with its well-picked furnishings.
Cozy in a way that feels intentional. I stride over to the fully equipped kitchen straight ahead, with a tan marble island and a set of polished wooden stools.
Dishes and mugs are lined up neatly in open cabinets above the counter.
A stove that doesn’t look older than Max, a fridge that isn’t humming.
I hear Max sigh as he rests his legs on the sofa, preparing to spend the night on it. Silas moves over to the sofa and reaches for the television remote. “Let’s see if this works.”
“Yeah,” Max agrees eagerly, sitting up.
I know he’s giving me time to explore. To consider spending the night. And it’s tempting as hell. I slip off to the bedrooms next. One bigger with a king-sized bed and sliding doors that lead to a back porch. One smaller with a twin bed.
I walk to the window at the back of the cottage, seeing only my reflection since it’s pitch-black outside.
It would be so easy to fall in love with this place after just one night. Especially waking up to all this.
I hear Silas step into the room. “I want you to stay as long as you want.”
I exhale, turning. Taking him in because what else am I to do? He’s so sexy in this light. Carving him into something . . . unfair. Moving toward me in the coziest of bedrooms, daring me to resist.
My stomach flips.
He’s done more for me and my kid in the last few days than any man’s ever tried to do. How can I say no? “One night, Silas.”
He closes the distance fully, the corner of his mouth tilted. “Are we still talking about the cottage?” I don’t move back even when he reaches his hurt arm to brush hair from my face. It’s so gentle and I’m painfully aware of the mobility he thinks I’m worth.
“Does it still hurt?” I ask.
“Every day I see you.”
I frown then open my mouth to clarify.
“I know what you meant,” he says before I could get a word out.
His expression serious. “Storm, I’m not going to lie to you.
I deliberately stayed away from you in high school but not because I wanted to.
Not because you meant any less to me.” He whispers, his voice is edgy.
“Not a day’s gone by that I don’t wish I could have done things differently, but I was a teenager and knew two things.
” He takes a breath, and it’s almost a quiet determination.
“One, I had no idea where I was going after high school, but it wasn’t here.
My future wasn’t cut out for me like it was my brothers.
So I knew I’d be on my own to figure it out.
Make mistakes. Fall down a few times before getting up.
” He rubs my hands gently in his grasp. “And two . . . I cared too much about you to bring you down with me.” He licks his lips.
“But when my future was set . . . I came back for you.”
My heart stills and I’m almost afraid to ask. “What do you mean?”
He steps back, running a hand through his hair. “Jasper had this stupid party in my name once early news of an NHL offer spread. I didn’t even want to go.”
My lips part but there’s no breath, just a tightening in my gut that’s near suffocating.
“The only reason I came was for you. When I showed up and you weren’t there—I went to your parents’ house.” He says it like that was an even bigger mistake. No doubt it was. They weren’t exactly thrilled with me that night either—
Wait. My parents?
My eyes flash wide. “No. You . . . you left with a cheerleader.”
He chuckles. “Who told you that?” Then he glances behind him as if remembering something.
“Hold that thought. It’s a little quiet in the other room.
I want to check on him.” Then he turns back quickly to me, as if to finish an important thought.
“But no—I came for one girl—and she wasn’t there that night. ” He winks reassuringly.
He came for me?
The idea that would have once been everything—is now shattering me piece by piece.
That’s impossible.
Who told me he left?
Jasper. Jasper told me he left with a cheerleader.
Absently, I follow Silas out to the living room. Max is asleep on the couch with Silas standing over him like he’s trying to determine which angle to lift him.
I sigh. “You can’t pick him up.”
“Neither can you.”
I move past him and give my kid a little shake. “Hey.”
His eyelids blink open and he hums.
“Come on. There’s a nice warm bed here for you.”
He pushes off the couch and Silas leads him to the other room, helping me strip him from the suit I bought him for tonight. One he’ll likely outgrow before needing again. I watch with a ball in my stomach as Silas tucks him in, before turning to me.
“You can’t tell him you saw his Spider-Man underwear.” I tell him, stepping into the kitchen for water or anything that might calm my racing heart, the questions, the confession that’s screaming to be released. One that might break his heart the same way it has mine.
“I won’t.” He smiles. “But do you know if they carry those in my size?”
I bite my bottom lip, barely registering him behind me.
“Earth to Storm,” Silas calls playfully.
“Hmm?” I turn.
He chuckles. “I just asked if they carry those in my size which opened you up for a penis joke—but the moment’s gone.”
A laugh slips out of me, brief and unconvincing. “Oh sorry. Promise—next penis joke—I’ll be right on top of it.”
He winces. “Certainly hope not.”
That leaves us both laughing and he passes me, his eyes still shimmering in that blue that’s always been my favorite color. He opens the fridge and scans it. Then takes out two beer bottles, flips the caps, and sets them both on the counter.
I grin and reach for one, taking a few swigs like I’m counting on it to settle me in a way I know it can’t.
Grinning, he takes my bottle and sets it aside like he’s jealous of it. Then he steps into my space. “Where were we?”
I manage to lift my chin, swallowing. “I don’t know . . . where?” This proximity, his warmth, it feels . . . safe and yet scares the hell out of me.
“I think you were about to tell me who told you I left with a—”
I shut his lips with mine. Like if I don’t, something in me is going to crack wide open. It’s messy and unplanned. All heat and breath and a sharp edge of need. Like I’m trying to outrun my thoughts by pressing into him instead.
Silas catches on fast. Faster than I expect. There’s no pause, no confusion—just his body adjusting to mine, his mouth answering with a depth that knocks me out of my boots.
He pulls back, eyes locked on mine. What will he see in them? Betrayal? Guilt? I haven’t said a word and yet feel like I’m spilling my guts.
He takes a swig of my beer before handing it back, his eyes locked on mine. My fingers go loose around the bottle, and I have to set it down, gripping the counter to steady myself.
His good hand finds my hip, steady and sure. He taps it lightly. “Up.”
I don’t think—I just move, hopping up onto the counter without breaking eye contact, my pulse spiking when his hands spread my thighs.
The skirt of my yellow dress falling between them.
He smirks. “Good girl. I like the way you listen.” My skin sparks under the slow drag of his lips along my neck, heat pooling low as his fingers slide my strap from my shoulder, baring skin like he’s been waiting to claim it.
His kisses are slow, deliberate, like he knows exactly what it does to me. How my pulse jumps for him.
I’m cursed for this man.
Maybe it’s a flaw since childhood.
Maybe it’s a gift. One I might deserve.
I’m betting on the former.
My hands curl into his shirt, my head tipping back as if my body’s already decided this for us.
He pauses to look at me, almost exasperated. “When are you going to let me make the first damn move?”
“Okay.” I inhale and release it slowly. “Your move, hotshot. But it better end with me knowing just what size underwear to get you.”
Amusement softens his face. “Glad to see you’re finally with me.” He flicks a glance at my mouth, before meeting my eyes again. The grin he gives me says he knows exactly what he’s doing. Still—there’s a question. “What happened to my inevitable plans to leave town and never look back?”
I don’t meet his amusement. “That was for Max’s sake. I won’t have the same expectations, Thorne.”
He licks his lips, jaw hardening before lifting to his full height, one hand resting on my thigh uncommittedly. “What are you saying?”
Feeling cold, I sit straight. “I’m saying one night. No questions. No expectations. Just you and me.”
Whatever hold I had on him up to this moment, snaps. And he steps back with a nod of understanding. He cups my cheek and kisses me softly. “Have a good night, Storm.”