Chapter 5
KROSS
Iwoke up before dawn, which wasn’t unusual.
What was unusual was the warm weight pressed against my side, the soft hair tickling my chin, the steady rhythm of breathing that wasn’t my own.
Sydney.
She was still here. Still real. Not a dream I’d conjured up out of loneliness and desperation.
I stayed perfectly still, not wanting to wake her.
Early light filtered through the curtains, casting soft gray shadows across the room, and I used it to memorize her—the way her lashes fanned across her cheeks, the slight part of her lips, the small furrow between her brows that smoothed as she shifted closer in her sleep.
Last night had been… I didn’t have words for it. I’d been with women before—plenty of them—but nothing had ever felt like that. Like coming home and setting out on an adventure at the same time. Like finding something I hadn’t known I was missing.
She made a small sound and burrowed deeper into my chest. My arm tightened around her automatically, and before I could stop myself, I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
I was in deep trouble. The best kind of trouble.
Eventually, my stomach started making demands I couldn’t ignore. I eased out of bed, careful not to wake her, tucked the blankets around her, and padded barefoot to the kitchen.
Breakfast. I could do breakfast.
Eggs, bacon, toast—nothing fancy, but solid. The kind of meal that said I’m glad you’re here without requiring me to say the words out loud.
I was cracking eggs into a bowl when I heard her footsteps in the hallway. Soft. Hesitant. I turned to greet her and nearly dropped the eggs on the floor.
She was wearing one of my flannel shirts.
Just the shirt, as far as I could tell. It skimmed past her thighs, the sleeves rolled to her elbows, the collar slipping off one shoulder to reveal a stretch of smooth skin I’d kissed last night.
Her hair was mussed from sleep, her feet bare, and she looked at me with those warm eyes like I was exactly what she wanted to see first thing in the morning.
“Hi,” she said, almost shy.
“Hi yourself.” My voice came out rougher than I’d intended. “Coffee’s almost ready. You hungry?”
“Starving.”
She settled into the same chair she’d used the night before, tucking her legs underneath her, and watched me cook. I liked that. Liked having her here, filling the space with her presence. The cabin had never felt empty before—but now I understood what it had been missing.
I plated the food—scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, buttered toast—and set it in front of her before pouring us both coffee. We ate in comfortable silence for a while, broken only by the clink of forks and the occasional hum of appreciation from Sydney.
“This is really good,” she said around a bite of eggs.
“It’s just eggs.”
“Perfect eggs.” She grinned at me, and my heart kicked up a notch. “You’re going to spoil me.”
“That’s the plan.”
When we finished eating, I refilled our mugs and leaned back against the counter while she stayed at the table. The morning sun crept higher, warming the kitchen, and everything felt settled. Easy. Like we’d been doing this for years instead of hours.
“So,” Sydney said, wrapping her hands around her mug. “What happens now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…this. Us.” She gestured vaguely between us. “I came here hoping it would work, but I didn’t really have a plan beyond showing up. Do we just…see how it goes?”
I thought about it. About the life I’d imagined for myself before she’d shown up and turned everything sideways.
“I always figured I’d end up with a quiet life,” I said slowly. “A wife, eventually. Maybe one kid. Nothing too complicated.”
Sydney went still. She set her mug down with exaggerated care.
“One kid?”
I nodded, not catching the shift in her tone. “Yeah. I figured with the cabin, the lifestyle—”
“I want at least three.”
The words came out quiet, almost tentative. I really looked at her then and saw it—worry flickering beneath her calm, like she was bracing herself.
“Okay,” I said carefully. “Three’s not—”
“I know we just met,” she interrupted, her fingers fidgeting with the handle of her mug. “And I know I don’t have any right to make demands. But I need to be honest about what I want, even if it’s too soon. I spent my whole life not saying what I wanted. I can’t do that anymore.”
Her voice wavered, and I realized this wasn’t about kids. It was about trust. About whether she could believe I’d make room for her dreams instead of asking her to shrink them.
“Hey.” I set my coffee down and crossed the room, crouching beside her chair so we were eye level. “Talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She took a shaky breath. “My parents had my whole life planned out—how many kids I’d have, where I’d live, who I’d marry.
Whenever I wanted something different, they made me feel selfish for even asking.
” She met my gaze, vulnerable but determined.
“I promised myself I’d never do that again.
Never make myself smaller to fit someone else’s vision.
Even if it meant losing something I really wanted. ”
The weight of it hit me hard.
“Sydney.” I took her hands, wrapping mine around her cold fingers.
“When I said one kid, that wasn’t a rule.
It was just something I assumed back when I thought I’d be doing this alone.
” I squeezed gently. “I’ve never planned a future with anyone before.
Never had to think about what someone else might want. ”
“And now?”
“Now there’s you.” I didn’t look away. “And what I want more than quiet, more than simple, more than any half-baked plan I made when I was lonely—is you. If you want three kids, we’ll have three. If you want more, we’ll figure it out together. None of that was ever set in stone.”
She searched my face, looking for hesitation. For a catch.
She didn’t find one.
The tension drained from her shoulders. Her eyes shone, and then she was out of her chair and in my lap, her arms around my neck, her mouth on mine. I caught her instinctively, kissing her until we were both breathless.
“Sorry,” she murmured when we finally pulled back. “I just needed to know.”
“Don’t apologize.” I cupped her face, brushing away the tear that had slipped free. “You’re allowed to have boundaries. You’re allowed to want things. That’s not something you ever have to apologize for. Not with me.”
She kissed me again, softer this time, and we eventually migrated back to the table to finish our cooling coffee. The conversation flowed easily now—open, unguarded. We talked about weddings, about expanding the cabin, about whether it made more sense to add on or build something new.
“At least three kids means at least two more bedrooms,” I said, already running numbers in my head. “Bigger kitchen. Maybe a mudroom, unless we want half the mountain tracked inside.”
Sydney laughed, the sound filling the cabin. “You’re already planning a mudroom. We’ve been together less than a day.”
“I’m a planner.”
“I thought you said you were bad at this.”
“I’m bad at dating apps,” I said. “Construction I can handle.”
We talked timelines. Whether we cared what anyone else thought. About her volunteering once she was settled, finding her place in town.
“Actually,” I said, “there’s something coming up you might be interested in. Dr. Hanson—you remember, the vet clinic next to the firehouse?”
She nodded. “You pointed it out yesterday.”
“She’s got a big project starting. Some kind of puppy mill bust. Dozens of animals need care, fostering, transport. She asked if I could use my trailer to help move them.”
Sydney’s eyes lit up. “Can I help?”
“I figured you’d want to.” I smiled. “I’ll introduce you to her next week.”
“I’d love that.” She squeezed my hand. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Get used to it.”
Later, we bundled up and took our coffee out to the porch. Morning light stretched over the mountains, mist lingering in the valleys, the world quiet and unhurried.
Sydney leaned into my side, and I pulled her close. We stood there like that for a long time, not talking.
“I’m keeping you,” I said eventually.
She laughed, tilting her head back to look at me. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
I kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. The mountains stood watch, patient and eternal, and somewhere down in town, a life waited for us to build it.
I couldn’t wait to get started.