35. Sydney
“I have a request,” Cole announces as we step off the dock.
“Anything,” I say in a sing-song kind of way.
“Do you think we could possibly spend the night at my cabin tonight?” He cringes as if it might be a huge imposition. “I just commissioned a wooden shed for a client yesterday and need to work on drawing up some plans. I figure there’s some more space to lay them out up there.”
“Oh, sure.” The fact that he assumes we’re a package deal as far as where we sleep has me feeling practically giddy. Sleeping under the same roof has become a given for us. A quiet agreement we can both count on at the end of the day, and I didn’t realize how much I’ve been leaning on that predictable part of my day.
“I’ll make us dinner and, uh…I’ll bring the cot,” he offers. His shy tone makes me bite my lip while a blush creeps across my cheek.
“Sounds perfect,” I agree.
In my cabin, I pack a quick overnight bag while Cole grabs some food out of the pantry to take up with us. He’s just about to reach for the folded cot when I act on a sudden urge to be bold and assertive.
“There’s no need to take that.” My voice comes out stronger than I feel on the inside. A rush of adrenaline at the prospect of sleeping in the same bed with him makes me feel anxious—and also exuberantly alive.
His gaze flicks to mine, and I watch with bated breath as he swallows thickly, the implication of what I said sinking in.
“Okay. Shall we?” he asks, offering a hand. I slip my bag on my shoulder and slide my hand in his.
We get to his cabin and hop off the ATV, both of us ducking our heads as the wind seems to have picked up the farther north we got. My hair whips across my face in a flurry, and I bury my head in his back while he leads the way to the cabin.
Inside, Cole shuts the door behind us with force. I set my bag down in the corner while he immediately gets a fire going in the wood-burning fireplace. The fire instantly warms my chill from the cold wind, and I relax while he starts some soft music on the record player that looks about as old as this cabin.
“How about sun-dried tomato pasta for dinner?” he asks, squeezing my elbow as he passes by to the kitchen.
“Deal, but I get to help cook.”
“Fine by me. Do you want noodle or sauce duty?” he asks.
“Noodles, of course. I’m no Shirley. I don’t think you want me putting the sauce together,” I laugh as we get started in the kitchen.
“I knew a girl in college who hated pasta,” I muse while we cook. “Can you believe that? Our friendship didn’t last very long. Looking back on it, that’s alright with me—I don’t think I can trust someone who doesn’t like pasta.”
He chuckles at my random comment. “How dare she have food preferences.”
“I know, right?” I smile, getting distracted from waiting for my water to boil by the way he moves with ease around this kitchen, easily throwing things in the pan to create a delicious-smelling sauce.
When I toss the pasta and the sauce together to finish it off, he dips a fork into it, collecting a bite.
“Careful, it’s hot.” He holds the fork out for me to taste. The pasta is flavorful and warm with the perfect amount of heat, and a hum escapes my throat.
“Yum. Here, you need to try this.” I do the same for him, offering him a bite.
The flavor is so intoxicating that we end up eating it right over the stove, never making it over to the table.
Once we’ve finished eating, I help wash and dry the dishes then wander around while Cole rolls out a set of plans onto the table. The wind howls outside as I run my fingertips along the back of the couch, leisurely perusing the cabin while the fire crackles.
I roam through the living room, picking up small trinkets on the fireplace mantel to admire. A small wooden fishing boat sits on the very edge of it.
“Did you make this?” I ask, picking it up. Cole looks up from where he’s hovered over the table and smiles when he spots the boat in my hand.
“I did.” He slides his hands in his pockets and crosses the room slowly with a nostalgic calm to his face. “I think I was fifteen or sixteen when I made that.”
He takes it out of my hand and rotates it around, studying it. “It’s a replica of the boat Uncle Paul used to keep out here.”
I watch him admire it and can’t help but think back to the childhood he had, to all of the turmoil he went through. My stomach clenches as a thought dawns on me.
“Can I ask you a question?” I murmur, unsure if I want to know the answer…but needing to know all the same.
“Of course.” He sets the boat on the mantel and turns to give me all of his attention. His brows crease when he sees the way I’m struggling to force the words out.
I swallow, my heart pounding in my chest. “Do you think this thing between us… Could we just be trauma bonded?”
His face softens as he steps closer, slowly shaking his head with resolution. He doesn’t need to think about it long before saying a firm, “No.”
I heave a shaky inhale, relief flooding me that he doesn’t think so. Then he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear so gently that I barely feel it.
“This is the realest thing I’ve ever felt,” he admits, speaking aloud the same thing I’m feeling. “I felt it back then, before I knew a single thing about you.”
He moves even closer, bringing both hands to cradle my face. “And I sure as hell feel it now.”
I nod, bringing a hand to rest on top of his, feeling emotion well in my eyes. “Our trauma just…complicated things for a bit, yeah?”
He smirks, nodding in agreement as he slowly lowers his head. I lift up to close the last bit of space between us and press my mouth to his, desperate to feel closer to him after acknowledging our feelings. His fingers slide even farther into my hair at the same time he deepens the kiss, a sense of urgency seemingly taking over as if he has something he needs to prove.
I run my hands down the sides of his torso, the wool fabric of his shirt feeling soft against my fingertips. Being close to him in this way feels right in every sense of the word. It feels eerily close to a sharp pang of homesickness, even though I’m right here with him.
He slips a hand on my waist, gripping hard to pull me flush with his body. It sends a warmth down my core and seems to awaken every cell in my body. I can’t get enough of him and the way his touch makes it feel like a spark is being dragged across my skin.
He pushes me gently back a few steps until my legs bump up against the foot of his bed. He pulls back abruptly but hovers close with a hesitation in his eyes. There’s a question behind the roll of his lips. Of course he would be gentlemanly enough to think that my staying here without the cot wouldn’t guarantee anything more than sleeping.
What he doesn’t know is that I want this as badly as he does. I need this moment with him like I need my next breath. It feels like a part of my soul has been waiting for this moment for years.
With a subtle nod of my head, he takes the permission and slowly lowers me onto my back while placing a warm kiss at the place just beneath my ear. He moves down the base of my neck, planting warm kisses at every stop while my nails run ever so softly down the span of his back.
He straightens, one knee pressing into the mattress between my legs, and he slips his shirt over his head. He flashes me a smile that looks both tender and devious at the same time, and I hook a finger in his belt loop and pull him down to me.