Chapter Twenty
Daniel sat frozen, the warmth of Edith’s lips still lingering on his, sending a surge of emotions crashing through him. He leaned into it for the briefest moment, savoring the feeling of her lips on his.
His heart pounded, not just from the kiss itself but from the wave of feelings that followed. He had spent years building walls, keeping his heart safely locked behind them, and in one unexpected, innocent moment, Edith had shaken the very foundation of everything he had fought so hard to protect.
For a long moment, he stayed still, his mind swirling as she pulled away. She stared at him, her eyes wide and uncertain, waiting for him to react. But instead of leaning in, instead of acknowledging the feelings stirring inside him, Daniel pulled back.
He shifted away, the movement sharp, and saw the immediate flicker of hurt flash across Edith’s face. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and her eyes dropped to the ground, as if embarrassed by what she had done.
“I-I’m sorry,” Edith stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She fidgeted nervously, her fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve. “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to…”
Daniel opened his mouth to speak, to assure her that she hadn’t done anything wrong, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t find the right thing to say, the right way to explain what was really going on inside him.
“It’s not your fault,” he finally said, though his voice sounded strained even to his ears.
The silence between them grew heavy, thick with unspoken emotions, and Daniel cursed himself for letting the moment slip. He could see Edith retreating into herself, her face still flushed with embarrassment, and he knew he had hurt her—something he never wanted to do.
She swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said softly, starting to stand. “I’m sorry…”
“Edith, wait,” Daniel said, his voice firmer this time as he reached out to grab her arm to stop her. “It’s not you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just…” He paused, his jaw clenching as he struggled with the truth he had kept hidden for so long. “I’m not the man you think I am.”
Edith’s brow furrowed in confusion, and she looked up at him, her eyes full of uncertainty. “What do you mean?”
He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair. He had never told anyone the full story, never shared the darkness he carried with him. But if Edith was going to understand why he couldn’t let her in, she needed to know.
“I had a sister,” he began, his voice low and rough. “She was younger than me. Full of life, always smiling. I promised I’d look after her, that I’d keep her safe. But I failed her, Edith.”
Edith’s breath hitched, and she stayed quiet, letting him continue.
Daniel’s throat tightened as he sat there, struggling to find the words to explain. Edith stayed quiet, but he could hardly meet her gaze. He hadn’t talked about that night in years, not to anyone, yet here he was, baring his soul to her.
“There was a fire,” he finally said, his voice rough. The words felt like sandpaper in his throat. “We lived out in the woods, a lot like this. One night, my parents went into town—just for a few hours. They asked me to watch my sister, Abigail, but I... I didn’t stay.”
Edith’s soft gaze never left his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He stared at the ground instead, his fingers twitching as the memories came flooding back.
“I was restless,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t want to be stuck inside watching her.
I wanted to wander the woods, to feel free.
So, I left her alone, thinking nothing bad would happen in the short time I’d be gone.
When I came back... the cabin was already up in flames. ”
His guilt made his throat tight as he spoke. His mind replayed that moment, the sight of the roaring fire, the smoke billowing into the night sky. He could still feel the heat against his skin, still hear the crackling of the flames consuming everything.
“What caused the fire?” Edith whispered.
“We think it was a stray spark from the hearth,” Daniel said, his voice shaking slightly.
“I’d stoked the fire before I left, like I always did.
Maybe I didn’t close the grate right, or maybe it was just bad luck.
But by the time I got back, the whole place was burning.
The walls... they were already caving in. ”
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The scars on his face, his hands, they were all that was left of that night. A reminder that he hadn’t been fast enough. That he’d failed.
“I ran inside,” Daniel said, his voice thick with emotion.
“I tried to get to her. I heard her screaming for me. ‘Danny, help!’ But the flames... they were everywhere. I couldn’t get to her.
I tried, but...” He trailed off, his breath hitching as he forced back the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.
He could see it all so clearly—the way the fire consumed the walls, the way the smoke had choked him, the heat burning his skin as he fought to reach his sister. But he had been too late.
“The scars here,” Daniel said, gesturing to his face. “I got them trying to save her. I barely made it out myself.”
Edith reached out, her hand trembling as she placed it gently on his arm, but he couldn’t let her comfort him. He couldn’t let her believe he deserved it.
“I should have been there,” Daniel’s voice cracked, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I should have been watching her like I was asked. If I’d just stayed with her... she’d still be alive.”
He looked up at Edith then, meeting her eyes for the first time since he started talking. Her gaze was filled with empathy, with a kindness he didn’t deserve. But all he could feel was the crushing weight of his own guilt.
“I left after that,” Daniel said quietly. “I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t look them in the eye, knowing what I’d done. So I left, thinking... maybe if I punished myself enough, I’d feel like I’d made up for it.”
Edith sat beside him, her arms folded tightly across her chest as though trying to hold herself together. He could see the questions in her eyes, the unspoken ones she didn’t know how to ask. The river’s current seemed calmer than the silence that stretched between them.
“I don’t understand,” Edith finally whispered, her voice soft, uncertain.
Daniel swallowed hard, his gaze shifting away from her to the ground beneath his boots. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not anymore. But he had opened the door, and now it felt impossible to close it again.
“There’s nothing to understand,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “I was reckless. I was supposed to be watching her, and I wasn’t. That’s all there is to it.”
He glanced at Edith out of the corner of his eye, expecting her to leave it at that. But she didn’t. She stood there, biting her lip, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“But your parents...” she began hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure how far she could push. “Did they blame you?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened. “No,” he admitted. “They never blamed me. They said it wasn’t my fault, that it was just a terrible accident. But I couldn’t believe them. I saw it in their eyes. I saw the disappointment. And I couldn’t... I couldn’t live with that.”
He paused, the memories creeping in again, sharp and jagged. He hadn’t thought about those days in a long time—the days after the fire when his mother would sit at the table in silence, her hands folded in her lap, while his father stared out the window, not speaking, not moving.
“But it didn’t matter,” he continued, his voice rough. “I left. I couldn’t stay there, not after what happened.”
Edith didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Daniel wondered if she could even begin to understand. She had her own pain, her own scars, but they were different from his.
“You left?” she repeated quietly. “Just like that?”
Daniel nodded, his gaze still fixed on the ground. “Just like that.”
He could feel her eyes on him, searching for an explanation, maybe, or just a way to make sense of what he was telling her. But there wasn’t anything more to say. He had left. He had run away from the fire, from his family, from the guilt that had followed him ever since.
“You couldn’t stay,” Edith said softly, as though she was trying to understand. “Because you thought... you thought it was your fault.”
Daniel didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence between them was enough.
Edith shifted beside him, and he could sense her struggling with what to say. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I know what it’s like... to feel like it’s your fault. To feel like you could have... stopped it.”
Daniel’s brow furrowed as he turned to look at her. Her gaze was fixed on the river, her hands still clutching the fabric of her skirt. She looked small, almost fragile, as if the wind might blow her away.
“What do you mean?” he asked quietly, his voice low.
Edith hesitated, biting her lip before she answered. “With my father,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I used to think... if I’d been different. If I’d been better, maybe... maybe he wouldn’t have...” She trailed off, her throat tight, her words fading into the wind.
Daniel’s chest tightened at the pain in her voice. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected her to open up. But here they were, standing by the river, each of them trying to make sense of their pasts.
“You couldn’t have changed that,” Daniel said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You know that, right?”
Edith nodded, but it was a shaky, uncertain nod. “You would think it would be easy to see, right? I guess that’s how it feels for you.”
Daniel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He didn’t know how to comfort her, didn’t know how to offer her the kind of reassurance she needed. All he knew was that the past had a way of clinging to you, no matter how hard you tried to shake it off.
He wanted to reach out, to take her hand and tell her it would be okay, that they’d figure it out together. But he couldn’t. Not when he was still fighting his own battles.
Instead, he turned back to the river, his heart heavy with everything unsaid.
“We should head back,” he muttered, his voice thick with unspoken emotion.
Edith didn’t argue. She just nodded, her shoulders slumping slightly as she followed him back toward the cart.
As they climbed in, Daniel couldn’t help but feel the distance between them.
He had opened up to her, but now it felt like he had shut her out just as quickly.
She had taken a risk, kissing him, something she couldn’t take back.
He had rejected her and had no idea how she would feel about that long term.
The ride back to the cabin was quiet, the tension between them thick and unspoken. Edith sat beside him, her hands clasped in her lap, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.
Daniel clenched his hands around the reins, his heart aching with the realization that no matter how close they had gotten, there would always be a wall between them—a wall he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to tear down.