Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
The cabin was quiet when we stepped inside, the low hum of cicadas carrying in through the open window.
George trotted over the moment we entered, tail wagging like we’d been gone for days instead of hours.
He pushed his nose into Dean’s hand, then mine, warm and expectant—something which had become a ritual in the few days we’d been here.
As though I’d become part of them. As though it was no longer just him and Dean, but us.
“Hey, buddy,” Dean murmured, scratching George behind his ear, before setting the key on the counter. “Missed us, huh?”
I managed a small smile, but the weight in my chest hadn’t lifted since leaving Tuesday in the lodge. Every laugh, every glance tonight had been one more reminder that this would all end soon. That it had to.
Dean exhaled and turned toward me, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. “That went well, don’t you think? My whole family loved John and Tuesday.”
“They did,” I said, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. “It was… nice.”
But my voice sounded distant, even to my own ears. I toed off my shoes and untucked my shirt from my shorts, trying to keep my movements casual. “I think I’m gonna take a shower.”
He nodded, distracted, going to the table to find George’s leash. “Yeah, okay. I’ll take George out.”
I made it halfway to the bathroom before his voice stopped me. “Hey.”
I turned around, finding him standing there, watching me. His brows were drawn together, concern softening the sharp edges of his face. “You okay?”
The question hit harder than I wanted it to. I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. “Just tired.”
He studied me for a long moment, as if he could see straight through the mask I was trying so hard to keep in place.
Then he stepped forward, slowly closing the space between us.
The air seemed to shift with each step he took.
His shoulders were broad beneath the soft stretch of his shirt, his presence filling the room before he even reached me.
By the time he stopped in front of me, the room felt charged, alive. The faint scent of cedar and soap clinging to him, warm and familiar, and I had to fight the instinct to lean in—to let myself get lost in him.
“You sure?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, small and careful, willing my voice to stay steady, even as something in my chest gave a quiet twist. “Yeah.”
Dean’s jaw flexed as if he didn’t quite believe me. Then, without another word, he reached up and brushed his palm along the side of my jaw. The warmth of his hand made my heart ache. His thumb traced the edge of my chin, tender and searching, his voice low when he finally spoke.
“You’re not lying to me, are you?”
I forced a small weak smile. “No,” I whispered. “Of course not.”
He held my gaze for another heartbeat, as though he was trying to decipher me—my face, my voice, the distance I was building between us. Then he exhaled slowly, his hand falling from my jaw.
“I’m meeting with Mason tonight,” he said, his voice low, careful. “We need to go over the final presentation before tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He paused, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to read between the lines. “Don’t wait up for me, okay?”
I nodded, though the news that he was leaving tonight hollowed me out. “Okay.”
He gave a faint nod in return, but his shoulders didn’t move, like his body refused to listen to what his mouth had just said. And then, before I could turn away, he reached for me—his hand sliding to the back of my neck, drawing me closer until his breath mingled with mine.
The kiss came softly at first, almost hesitant, but the moment his lips met mine, something inside me cracked open. The kiss became deep and unhurried—tender in a way that was heartbreaking. He kissed me like he wanted to remember, and I kissed him back like he was already gone.
When he finally pulled away, his hand lingered against my jaw, his thumb tracing one last line down my cheek before falling away. Neither of us spoke. The silence between us said everything.
Then he let me go.
I turned toward the bathroom, my throat tight, my pulse unsteady. The door closed behind me with a soft click that felt heavier than it should have—the sound of something ending quietly.
For a long moment, I just stood there, the echo of his touch still warm on my skin, the taste of him still clinging to my lips. It felt like the kind of moment that would live in me long after it was gone.
And maybe that was the cruelest part—knowing that what had just happened wasn’t a beginning.
It was the start of goodbye.
When I finally stepped under the water, the sound drowned everything else out.
The ache, the noise, the impossible mess of feelings I’d been trying to keep buried.
The heat hit my skin, but it did nothing to warm me.
It just washed over me, relentless and heavy, as if it could strip away the lies I’d been telling all week.
I pressed my palms flat against the cool tile and bowed my head.
Tonight had been perfect. Too perfect. The kind of night that made me forget it wasn’t real.
John and Tuesday had slipped into Dean’s world like they were meant to be there—laughing with his family, trading stories, sharing food and easy smiles as though they’d known each other their whole lives.
It should have felt chaotic, awkward even, but somehow it didn’t.
Somehow it felt seamless. Natural. Like this was the way things were always supposed to be.
But it wasn’t ours. None of it was.
And as the water slid down my face, I felt it—the slow, quiet breaking of something inside me—the truth I’d been pretending not to know settling deep in my bones.
We were running out of time.
And I wasn’t ready to let him go.