Chapter 30
PHOENIX
She won't look at me.
I've been awake for twenty minutes, watching her move around the cabin like a ghost. She slipped out of bed before dawn, and now she's standing at the window with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the snow.
Last night changed something between us. I felt it when she fell asleep in my arms, her body soft and pliant against mine, her breath warm on my chest. For a few hours, she let herself forget all the reasons she's supposed to hate me.
Now the morning has come, and so has her regret.
I don't push or try to talk to her about what happened. I don’t reach for her when I climb out of bed or don't make any of the moves that would send her running back behind her walls. Instead, I start making breakfast.
Eggs. Toast. Coffee. I want to feel as normal as possible.
The smell of food eventually draws her to the small table. She sits without a word, her eyes fixed on the plate I set in front of her. We eat in silence, listening to the sound of the fire crackling in the distance.
"Thanks," she mumbles when she's finished. It's the first word she's said morning.
"You're welcome."
More silence. She takes her plate to the sink and washes it, a task that takes far longer than necessary.
"The cabin needs some work," I say eventually. "There's a loose board by the door. And the firewood needs to be restocked from the shed."
She turns, and I see the flicker of something in her eyes. Relief, maybe?
"I can help," she offers.
So we work.
It's strange, this forced domesticity. Side by side, we fix the loose board with a hammer and nails from the toolbox under the sink.
We haul firewood from the shed out back, making trip after trip until there's a respectable pile stacked beside the stove.
She finds a broom and sweeps the floors while I clean out the ash from the fireplace.
By midday, the cabin is cleaner than it's been in years, and something has shifted between us again. The awkwardness hasn't disappeared entirely, but it's softened. She's moving more easily now, her body less rigid, her glances in my direction less guarded.
We make lunch together. Sandwiches from the supplies that the caretaker had stocked. She finds a can of soup in the back of the pantry and heats it on the stove while I slice bread. Our shoulders brush as we move around the small kitchen, and she doesn't flinch away.
Progress.
We eat on the sofa this time, plates balanced on our laps, the fire warming our feet. Outside, the snow is still falling, lighter now but steady, coating the world in white.
"Tell me about them," she says suddenly.
I look at her. "About who?"
"Our mothers." She's staring into the fire, her profile soft in the flickering light. "You said yours kept things from when they were friends. Letters and photos."
"She did."
"What did she tell you about Sydney?"
I set my empty plate on the floor and lean back into the cushions. This is dangerous territory. There are things I know about Sydney, about both our mothers, that could blow everything apart. But Jade is asking, and after last night, I owe her some truth.
"She told me they were inseparable," I say carefully. "They met in college, freshman year. Roommates who became best friends within the first week. Mom said Sydney was the funniest person she'd ever met. Sharp and sarcastic, but kind underneath it."
Something softens in Jade's expression. "That sounds like her."
"They did everything together. Studied together, partied together, dated guys who were best friends so they could double date.
" I smile. "Mom said Sydney was the one who convinced her to go to Hawaii.
When my father sent that first check, my mother wasn't sure what to do. Sydney told her to take a chance. That a man willing to do something that bold was worth meeting.”
“Really?"
“Yes. Sydney practically pushed her onto the plane. Told her that kind of grand gesture didn't come around twice."
Jade laughs softly, but there's a bitter edge to it. "That's ironic. Given how much she hates rich men now. Given what she said to me about your father.”
"Things changed after she saw what the money did to their friendship. What it did to my mother."
I reach for my phone on the side table. "I have something to show you."
She watches as I scroll through my camera roll, past dozens of photos I never look at, until I find the one I'm searching for. A picture of a picture, actually. I photographed it years ago from my mother's box of memories.
I hold the phone out to her.
Two young women stand on a beach, arms thrown around each other, heads tilted together, laughing at something off-camera. They're in their twenties, tanned and carefree, their whole lives stretching out ahead of them. One of them is unmistakably my mother. The other is unmistakably Sydney.
Jade takes the phone with trembling hands.
"Oh my god," she whispers.
"I know."
"They look so young. So happy." She traces a finger over her mom’s face on the screen. "I've never seen her like this. So... light."
"They loved each other. That much is clear from everything my mother kept."
"Then what happened?" She looks up at me. "How do you go from this to years of silence?"
I hesitate. This is where my knowledge gets thin.
"I don't know the whole story," I admit. "All I know is that it had something to do with money."
"Money?"
"That's all she would ever say." I shake my head. “But we didn’t talk about it much. She got this sad look whenever I brought it up. Like it still hurts, even after all these years."
"My mom never told me about it.” Jade is quiet for a moment.
We sit in silence for a while, both of us lost in our own thoughts. The fire crackles. The snow falls. And slowly, the tension between us begins to ease again.
By mid-afternoon, she's restless. Pacing the small cabin like a caged animal, picking things up and putting them down, staring out the window at the endless white.
"I'm going crazy in here," she mutters.
"Then let's go outside."
She turns to look at me. "It's freezing."
"There are jackets in the closet. Boots too."
"Fine," she says. "But if I get frostbite, I'm blaming you."
We bundle up in the warm clothes I stocked the cabin with, layers of flannel and fleece beneath heavy jackets. The boots are a size too big but nothing that another pair of socks can’t fix.
The world outside is silent and white. The snow has tapered off to flurries, but everything is covered in a thick blanket that sparkles in the weak afternoon sun. Our breath fogs in the air as we step off the porch.
"It's beautiful," Jade admits, her voice hushed. "I'll give you that."
"I told you."
We walk for a few minutes, our boots crunching through the snow, neither of us speaking. The trees press close on all sides, heavy with white, and there's something peaceful about the isolation that I didn't expect.
I'm just starting to relax when something cold and wet explodes against the back of my head.
I spin around to find Jade standing ten feet away, another snowball already forming in her gloved hands, a grin spreading across her face.
"Did you just—"
The second snowball hits me square in the chest.
"You're going to regret that," I tell her.
"Am I?" She's already backing away, laughing. "You'll have to catch me first."
She takes off running, and I run after her.
The next twenty minutes are chaos. Snowballs fly back and forth, most of them missing wildly, a few landing with satisfying thuds. She's faster than I expected, darting between trees and using them as cover, but I'm bigger and my aim is better.
When I finally catch her, we're both breathless and soaked, snow clinging to our hair and melting down our collars. I grab her around the waist and spin her against the exterior wall of the cabin, pinning her there with my body.
"Caught you," I pant.
She's laughing, her cheeks flushed red from the cold, her eyes bright with something I haven't seen before. Joy. Pure, unguarded joy.
"You cheated," she gasps. "You have longer legs."
"All's fair."
"In love and war?"
"Something like that."
The laughter fades slowly from her face as she realizes how close we are. Her back against the rough wood of the cabin wall. My body pressed against hers. Our breath mingling in the frozen air between us.
"Phoenix," she whispers.
"Tell me to stop." My voice comes out rougher than I intended. "Tell me to stop and I will."
She doesn't.
Instead, she grabs the front of my jacket and pulls my mouth down to hers.
The kiss is cold at first, our lips chapped from the wind, but it heats up fast. I press her harder against the wall, my thigh sliding between her legs, my hands finding her hips beneath the bulk of her jacket.
"We should go inside," she gasps against my mouth.
I grab her wrist and drag her toward the door, shoving it open with my shoulder. We stumble inside and I kick it shut behind us, already reaching for her jacket, yanking the zipper down hard enough that she stumbles back a step.
"Phoenix—"
"Off." I pull at her sweater.
Her fingers are clumsy from the cold, shaking as she peels off layers. But she’s too slow. I take over, stripping her down and tossing each piece aside until she's standing in front of me in nothing but her bra and panties, shivering from more than just the temperature.
The fire is still burning low in the stove, casting flickering shadows across her skin. I back her toward it, toward the heat, crowding her space until she has nowhere to go but where I want her.
Her back hits the wall beside the fireplace and I cage her in with my arms, one hand on either side of her head.
"Better?" I ask, my voice rough.
"Yes."
"Good." I lean in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
I spin her around so she's facing the wall, her palms flat against the wood. She gasps at the sudden movement, and the sound goes straight to my cock. I press myself against her back and let her feel exactly what she does to me.
"Phoenix—"
"You feel that?" I grind against her, slow and deliberate. "That's what you do to me. Every time you look at me."
She whimpers, pushing back against me, and it takes everything I have not to take her right here, right now.
"Is this okay?" I murmur against her ear, even though I can feel her answer in the way her body melts into mine.
"Yes." Her voice is wrecked. "God, yes."
My hands slide in between her thighs.
"You're so wet," I groan.
“I know. Just fuck me.”
I don't need to be asked twice.
I free myself from my own pants and thrust into her in one hard stroke. She cries out, her fingers scrabbling against the wood.
It's fast. Desperate. Nothing like the slow exploration of last night. This is primal, animal, two people who can't get enough of each other.
The fire crackles beside us as I pound into her, her moans echoing off the cabin walls, my grunts muffled against her neck.
The heat from the flames licks at our bare skin, but I can barely register it.
All I can feel is her. The tight heat of her wrapped around me.
The way she pushes back to meet every thrust like she can't get enough.
The sounds she makes when I reach around and find her clit.
"I'm close," she gasps. "Oh god, I'm so close—"
"Already?" I slow my pace, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. She cries out. "I don't think you've earned it yet."
"Phoenix, please—"
"Please what?" I do it again, that agonizing slow withdrawal followed by a punishing thrust. "Tell me what you want."
"You know what I want."
"Say it." My fingers circle her clit without giving her the pressure she needs.
"I want to come." Her voice breaks. "Please let me come."
"Good girl."
I stop teasing. My hips piston into her, hard and fast, while my fingers work her clit with ruthless precision. She's shaking, her palms slipping against the wall, her moans turning into something desperate and broken.
"That's it," I growl against her ear. "Take it. Take all of it."
She shatters with a scream, her whole body convulsing, her pussy clenching around me so tight I see stars. I fuck her through it, not letting up, drawing out every last tremor until she's sobbing my name.
Only then do I let myself go. I bury myself deep and come with a groan that rips from somewhere in my chest, filling her up while she trembles in my arms.
We stay like that for a long moment. Both panting. Both wrecked.
I press my forehead against the back of her neck and breathe her in. Sweat and sex and something underneath that's just her. Mine. She's mine.
Eventually, I pull out and turn her around to face me. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glazed, her lips swollen from where she was biting them.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Hi," she says, and there's a softness in her voice I haven't heard before.
"Hi yourself."
She laughs, quiet and almost shy, which is ridiculous given what we just did. "That was..."
"Intense?"
"I was going to say amazing, but that works too."
I brush a strand of damp hair from her face. "You're amazing."
"You're biased."
"Probably." I pull her against my chest and she goes willingly, her arms wrapping around my waist. "Doesn't make it less true."
We stand there in front of the fire, holding each other, the cabin warm around us while the snow falls silently outside. I don't want to move. Don't want to break this moment where she's soft and pliant in my arms, where she's not fighting me or pushing me away.
Eventually, she shivers—not from cold but from exhaustion.
"Bed," I tell her.
She doesn't argue. Just lets me lead her across the cabin and pull back the covers. We climb in together, tangled up before we even hit the mattress. Her head finds my chest. Her leg hooks over mine. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my stomach.
It’s just us without the distance and the pillows and the walls.
"What time is it?" she murmurs, already half asleep.
I glance at the clock on the wall. "Almost six."
"We should eat something."
"Later."
"Mmm." Her eyes are closed, her breath slowing. "Later sounds good."
I hold her while she drifts off, watching the firelight flicker across the ceiling and listening to the wind howl outside.
Three more days. That's all I have left. Three more days before I'm supposed to let her go back to her life, her mother, her world that doesn't include me.
It's not enough.
Not nearly fucking enough.
I tighten my arms around her and press my lips to her hair. She sighs in her sleep and burrows closer, and something in my chest cracks wide open.
I'm not letting her go. I don't care what I promised. I don't care about the deal or the timeline or any of the bullshit I told her to get her here.
She's mine now.
And I keep what's mine.