Chapter 4 Abel
Abel
The worst part of this silent hike back to my cabin is the chaos going on inside of my head. Every step, every heartbeat, is drumming up images of what I should have done. I keep seeing it—Tatum, pinned beneath me, the soft ground giving way under her back, under mine.
I should have closed the space between us. Should have laid her down right there in the grass and followed her all the way down, because there was only one way my touching her should’ve ended.
With her head tipped back, my name falling from her lips like a prayer, she couldn’t stop whispering.
And me—buried so deep inside her that she’d forget there was a world outside of this forest wrapped around us.
Feeling her tighten around me, pulling me deeper, until I had no choice but to spill everything I had into her.
Fuck.
Why did she have to bring up the future? Now I want things I never let myself want. Kids. Not with anyone—with her. A woman with so much life ahead of her, so much world left to see.
That’s why I stopped, why I pulled away when every instinct was screaming at me to go the entire way. Even the shock of that icy water couldn’t numb the hunger. The only thing keeping me together was the thought of ruining whatever future is waiting for Tatum.
She’s from the city. City girls don’t last long on the mountain. Even if she looks at this place like it’s something sacred, that won’t last forever. I can’t ask her to stay, even if everything in my chest is clawing to do exactly that.
Still so young, she has too much of a life to live to cut it short by limiting herself here.
By the time we reach the cabin, she disappears into her room without a word. I need to do something with my hands, so I head for the kitchen.
Lunch. I’ll make lunch. Maybe grilled cheese and soup will make up for not finishing what I started. I bake my own bread. She’d like fresh bread, I’m sure.
I wash my hands, then splash water on my face.
When I look up, I’m just… staring blankly ahead.
Like I don’t recognize the man staring back in the faucet reflection.
I need to convince myself of a lie before I do something irreversible.
This thing clawing at my stomach? It’s just hunger for food.
I’ve got enough bread for a dozen sandwiches. I can make all the soup she wants.
Sighing heavily, I’m left swiping at my face and wondering how in the hell I’m going to look her in the eye without imagining how she felt against my hands.
How will I keep my body from reacting just from having her near me?
Just thinking about her now, I’m already hearing her hitched breathing and the moans that slipped past her lips.
I think… I may be too far gone at this point.
If I were smart, I’d send her on her way.
The weather is fine, and I’m sure her car could make it to the base of the mountain.
Then again, even if she put enough distance between us to never see her again, it wouldn’t be enough.
I wouldn’t be able to forget her or the way she’s made me realize how badly I want something I never really thought much about.
Groaning softly, it takes a few minutes to get started on lunch. However, my efforts and worries are all futile.
Tatum refuses lunch, handling the demand for distance far better than I can. While her rejection claws at my chest, I write it off as being for the best for both of us.
No matter how much it gnaws at me, I move on and pretend everything is going to be okay.
* * *
It takes the entire afternoon for Tatum to emerge from her hiding place.
When she finally appears, her hair is a riot of waves pointing in every direction, like she’d been dead to the world instead of hiding from me. The sight shouldn’t hit me as hard as it does—relief, sharp and sweet, flooding my chest. I’m far weaker than I want to be.
An entire afternoon gave me plenty of time to map out strategies to coax her back out. But now she’s here, and there’s no suitcase in her hand, and that’s all that matters.
“You could’ve warned me about the aftermath of hiking.” She rolls her neck, wincing as she lifts her arms to stretch. Her gaze slides past me like I’m not worth landing on. “Everything hurts. I passed out the second my eyes shut.”
I’m already pushing back from the kitchen table, the chair scraping against the floor. “Let me find you something for the pain.” I’m moving before I finish the thought. “Are you hungry? You used more energy than you’re used to.”
She finally looks at me, and I’m greedy for it—waiting for that spark from before. But her smile comes out tight, forced. Her eyes have gone dim.
“That would be great.” She settles at the far end of the table, pulling one foot into her lap to examine it.
“I guess endurance takes a while to build, huh? Sneakers were not the way to go, either. Both of my heels are already blistering up. I think my hiking adventure might be over before it starts.”
I grab the medicine, and I’m back in a flash—can’t stand missing even seconds of her presence. When I hand it over, I let my palm press against the back of her hand longer than necessary. I don’t realize how desperate I am for contact until she pulls away.
Her cheeks flush, but her eyes drop from mine once again.
I really fucked up.
I turn to get her water, but I can’t stop there. I’m pulling out the soup, reheating it, and making sure she has something warm in her stomach.
“You could hit town tomorrow,” I offer, the words tumbling out automatically—anything to fill the silence. “Get proper boots. Breaking them in will suck, but it’ll beat what you’re wearing now.”
She scoffs softly. “Won’t need them after this vacation. No mountains in Lincoln Heights.”
“Right.” I nod, and the word tastes like lead. The urge rises again to ask her to stay for more than this little vacation of hers, but I choke it down. “What’s the plan when you go back?”
More silence. She drinks her water slowly, drawing it out.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, the movement tired. “Find something stable, I guess. Maybe look somewhere more affordable. I’ve been trying not to think about it.”
The microwave hums as I lean against the counter. My thumb taps against the surface—I don’t realize I’m doing it until her gaze flicks toward me. The worry’s back in her eyes, deeper now. I did that. Brought up the one thing she’s trying to escape.
How do I fix this?
“What can I do to help?”
She blinks, head tilting in confusion.
“To make you stop thinking about it.” I set the soup in front of her, the words coming out rougher than intended. “I want to help.”
I need her to smile again. Really smile. Need her eyes to meet mine without flinching away. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay for it.
Her lips part, surprise softening her features. That pink flush deepens, spreading across her cheeks.
“I liked the hike. To the pond.” She’s studying the table now. “Earlier… I couldn’t think about anything but…”
When she breaks away this time, it’s not discomfort I see—it’s embarrassment. She’s still thinking about it, too.
“You want—” I’m stumbling, reaching for the right words. Hoping I’m not misreading this. She confirms it with the smallest dip of her chin.
“It was a nice distraction.” She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, holding me in suspense until I’m ready to beg. Then—“I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”
Every thought about letting her go, about protecting myself, about being smart—gone. Evaporated. Especially when she lifts her gaze, fear making it heavy.
“Unless you hated it. Earlier, you left so quickly that I—”
“I didn’t hate it.”
The truth comes out in a heavy rumble, torn from somewhere deep. No wonder she hid in her room. I should’ve checked on her during the hike back, should’ve paid attention. God, I’m an asshole. I need to learn how to stop hiding behind silence.
But I can’t exactly tell her what I really wanted to do out there, can I? Even I’m not that bold.
“Not in the slightest.” I push the words harder, wanting her to believe them. “Yeah. I can do that. If it helps.”
It’ll be torture—wanting more, taking what I can get—but for her? I’ll suffer through it. Just as I’m resigning myself to that fate, I catch it. The small curve at the corner of her mouth. Shy. Real.
I force myself to pull back before I get greedy. She needs to eat, needs her strength.
“We’re getting those boots tomorrow.” I hold up a hand before she can argue. “I’m buying them. That way it’s not a waste.”
Being trapped in this cabin with her—with what she’s asking of me—is a dangerous prospect. I don’t know how long I’ll last just thinking about it.
I settle across from her, watching relief wash through me as she takes a few bites.
“I’m being a handful.” She pauses, grimacing. “Definitely disturbing your peace. I think I’m becoming a rule breaker.”
She has no idea. She’s turned my quiet world inside out, made everything complicated. Made me want things I have no business wanting. And I can’t find it in me to care.
“I don’t mind.” I flick a finger toward her bowl. “Don’t worry about me. Eat it all before it gets cold.”
She nods and does what I ask, and finally—finally—the knot in my chest starts to loosen.
Okay, new plan. Make her forget about everything she left behind. Show her how good it is here. Convince her to stay.
I’ll figure out the fine details along the way.