Chapter 17
Zayden
She’s still catching her breath when I pull back. Her eyes wide with too many emotions to name. She’s waiting for me to say something, but I don’t want to drag her further into this.
“Come on, I’ll take you back.” I step back and let her go.
“Fine.” She moves past me toward the door, but not before I see the hurt across her face.
I follow her, grabbing my coat and keys. We’re both quiet as I open the door, and I stop dead in my tracks.
Snow falls so thick we can’t see anything ahead. The path, the trees, the road, and my Jeep have all disappeared.
“We can’t drive in that,” I say. “It’s coming down too hard.”
“Then I’ll walk.” She walks past me. “I’m not staying here with you,” she mumbles.
“Are you insane?” I catch up to her outside. “You really think you can make it back down a mountain road in a blizzard?”
She keeps walking. “I’ve handled worse.” That makes my heart ache a little.
“Yeah?” I step in front of her. “You’ve handled hypothermia before?”
She tries to shove past me. “Move, Zayden.”
“Luna.” I grit my teeth. “If you don’t come back inside, I swear to God, I will carry you.”
She glares up at me, furious, freezing, and so goddamn stubborn.
I take a step closer. “Please, come inside.”
Her face is still sharp with anger, her shoulders shaking a little—whether from cold or something else, I’m not sure.
“Fine.” She turns around.
By the time we’re back inside, she’s dripping wet. Snow melting into her hair and clothes.
“You need to shower.” I point toward the first bedroom down the hallway. “Towels are in the bathroom closet, and I have some spare clothes you can use in the bedroom, top drawer.”
She doesn’t argue this time, just disappears down the hallway. By the time she comes back, I’ve already taken a shower in the other bedroom, made some chicken noodle soup, and added more logs to the fire.
She’s wearing one of my old Valcérre jerseys and a pair of gray sweatpants with the legs rolled up a little. Her braids are still damp, hanging loose around her face. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Her eyes flick to where I’m sitting on the couch in matching gray sweatpants and hoodie before she looks away.
She looks down at her phone. “No signal.”
I watch her from the couch, trying not to stare too hard, but it’s impossible when she looks this good in my shirt.
“My friends are going to freak out,” she mutters under her breath. “They were probably waiting for me after the showcase.”
She’s still staring at the screen like the bars will appear magically.
“I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re together.” I lean back into my seat. “Jasper knows I have a cabin up here, anyway.”
She groans. “Great. So they’ll think I’m in some cabin hooking up with you.”
I tilt my head, watching her. She looks half horrified, half flustered. “I mean… would that be bad?”
She glares.
I smirk.
“Come sit.” I pat the spot beside me.
There’s a blanket waiting for her and a bowl of soup on the coffee table. She hesitates before taking a seat at the far end of the couch like I’m contagious or something.
“I don’t bite.”
“You kidnapped me.” She glares at me again.
I lift an eyebrow. “You tried to walk into a blizzard.”
“Because I didn’t want to be stuck here with you.”
Ouch.
“I don’t care if you’re mad at me,” I mutter. “Just need you to eat this and stay warm.” Because I know underneath all that fire, she’s cold and hungry.
She eats in silence, her eyes fixated on the fireplace as she finishes her soup slowly.
“Why don’t you like to talk?” She breaks the silence as she puts her spoon back in the bowl. “Are you shy or something?”
“Not shy,” I say, letting my head fall against the couch.
She lifts a brow. “Then what is it?”
“Talking wastes energy. People say too much, and most of it’s bullshit.”
She turns toward me more fully. “So, you think you’re better than everyone?”
I shake my head. “No. I just learned early on it’s safer to keep my mouth shut. The more people know, the more they can use against you.”
She watches me, quieter now. And something in her eyes pushes me to keep going.
“People can be fake. They say whatever they need to be liked, to feel safe or in control.” I meet her eyes. “But you’re different.”
She blinks. “Different how?”
“You’re real and don’t try to be anything but yourself.”
It’s quiet again, but her thoughts are so loud I can almost hear them.
“I hate the silence.” She says it as if she’s talking to herself, or the flame. “When I was little, I used to be home alone a lot. My sister had just gone to college, and my mom wasn’t really around.”
She looks down at the now-empty bowl and whispers, “I used to turn on cartoons and leave them running all night, just to pretend someone else was there.”
My chest tightens. It’s funny how different we are. Where she hates the quiet, I crave it. I reach for my phone and pull up one of my downloaded playlists.
I untangle my wired earbuds and hold out one of the buds to her. She narrows her eyes at me suspiciously. “It’s just music to help fill the silence.”
Her eyes soften, then she scoots closer and takes the earbud from my hand. She puts it in her ear, and the cord tugs between us as a soft exhale escapes her lips, like the music relaxes something inside her.
Slowly, her head tips against my shoulder.
“I didn’t take you for a Billie fan.” Luna glances at me sideways.
“She gets it.” I shrug.
“Good taste.” She chuckles.
I try not to smile but fail miserably.
She shifts a little closer, and her head moves to my chest. My other hand comes up around her waist under the blanket. Her body fits so easily against mine; it’s stupidly dangerous.
She hasn’t moved in a while, and when I glance down, she has her eyes closed, breathing slow and even.
I take in her features. Her face is soft now, calm.
One of her braids falls across her cheek, and I brush it gently behind her ear.
She stirs slightly, fingers curling into the front of my hoodie like she doesn’t want to let go.
God, I’m so fucked.
It’s too easy, how calm I feel around her, that I don’t mind when her voice fills the silence.
She looks so peaceful that I’m afraid to wake her up, but I know she’ll be sore in the morning if she stays like this.
I carefully slide my arms beneath her knees and back.
She murmurs against my chest, half-asleep. “Mm… Zay…”
I shift slowly, standing to carry her to the guest room. The fire’s low now, shadows dancing across the floor as I cross the cabin.
“Zay’n…, put me down…” Her brows pinch together even as her eyes stay closed.
“Shh,” I whisper, adjusting my grip. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”
Her body softens at the sound of my voice. I carry her the rest of the way down the hall, nudging the bedroom door open with my foot.
I lay her down gently, and she curls instinctively toward the pillow, dragging the blanket up with one sleepy hand.
I stand there watching her like a creep.
“You don’t always have to fight, you know.” I lean in and whisper to her sleepy form, “Good night, Luna.”