Chapter 3 Kara
kara
At first he doesn’t say anything. Instead Rustin just sits on the hearth across from me.
“Here.” He hands me a kitchen towel. “I don’t have tissues.”
The admission pulls a soft chuckle out of me. “Of course not.”
Rustin sits silently staring. He doesn’t touch me and he doesn’t have to. His steady presence even at a careful distance feels like a warm hug.
“He knew,” I whisper. “Marshall knew I didn’t love him enough. It’s what my parents wanted. It looked good. I’m not even sure he loved me. But he was going to marry me anyway.”
“It’s not a surprise that some people are okay with settling for even a small part of you.” Rustin looks at me directly. “I’m not one of those people, but I get it.”
“I remember.” My words get stuck in my throat.
Rustin looks away. Silence settles around us for a moment too long and I’m ready to change the subject. I don’t know how much more I can take right now. Thankfully, Rustin does it for me.
“You hungry?”
“No, I’m okay.” My stomach growls like a small bear and gives me away. Stupid traitor.
One corner of his mouth kicks higher. “Right, come on. Let’s get something in the oven.” He pushes to his feet and moves into the kitchen.
I follow him into the kitchen and sit at the counter while he puts a frozen pizza in the oven. This place is a study in Rustin. Old copper pans gleam on open shelving. A few empty beer bottles flank the corner of the counter and there is, of course, a wild amount of baking supplies.
My eyes land on a folded piece of paper with smudges of butter on the corners. I take in the old fashioned scrolling handwriting and my heart tumbles when I realize what it is. The Reynolds Family Christmas Cookies. I pull it toward me. There’s a grease stain by the word apron.
A fragmented memory slams into me… Rustin in nothing but that old green apron with flour on his cheekbone. The bow tied indecently low above the hard curve of his ass. Him slipping my fingers into his mouth when I burned them on the pan.
I inhale too fast and cough.
His back flexes as he reaches for a pot. “Let’s get something to warm you up. Tea or coffee?”
“Either. Honestly, Rustin, I’m just so glad I’m here with you.”
His shoulders go still. For a heartbeat, the only sound is the wind and the low crackle of the fire catching in the other room. He reaches for the cinnamon tin. “Okay, whiskey it is.”
“Even better.”
Rustin brings me a mug that smells like apples and heat. Our fingers brush when he passes it to me and phone-book-thick history rushes across my skin. Warning signs flash in front of my eyes. I’ve got some kind of reverse Midas touch right now and I probably need to keep it to myself.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t think about the way Rustin’s arms ripple with his every movement. I shouldn't even look at his mouth. I do anyway. God, that mouth.
I remember exactly how it feels on every part of my skin. How he used to kiss the inside of my thigh right before…Ugh, Kara get it together. I can't think about that. Not when he's standing there looking like every lumberjack fantasy I've ever had.
Ten minutes later we’re two drinks in and eating pizza and drinking in front of the fire.
Rustin settles back on the fireplace across from me and I can’t help but think that the distance is deliberate.
Even still, the wall between us dissipates a little more with each sip.
He teases me about my shoes. I pull a sequin from my dress and add a little flair to his wreath.
The conversation is easy and I melt into it.
The fire paints his skin gold by the time Rustin finally brings up the elephant in the room. “How far did you get earlier today?”
“All the way to the vows,” I admit.
“That checks out. You made it to the lie,” he says, eyes on mine. “The moment you had to promise to love someone who wasn’t me. The charade crumbled.”
My stomach lurches. “Rustin.”
“No, you don’t get to ‘Rustin’ me.” His voice is quiet but edged. “Not after three years. Not after you chose someone else.”
The memory hits like ice water… My mother’s pearls, her polite smile, the envelope she tried to give him in the church parking lot on behalf of my father. The ultimatum Rustin gave me in return. It was my family or him. I blink and see myself. I’m staring up at him, frozen by regret.
“I was twenty-one. I was scared and trying to make everyone happy.” The way he looks at me in the silence scorches my brain.
“Everyone but me.”
“To be fair, I didn’t make myself happy either. I knew what I wanted but I thought if I could make my parents happy, I’d eventually be happy too. You know, follow the plan. Stick to the expectations.”
He huffs a laugh that isn’t a laugh. “How’d that work out for you?”
“How do you think? I’m sitting in your cabin in a ruined wedding dress in the middle of a fucking blizzard.”
“Fair point.” He lets out a chuckle and it breaks the tension. “I’ll grab us some refills.”
My phone buzzes as multiple texts come through in succession. When I check them, I find words of warning from my sister.
Kendall: Mom’s losing it. Where are you? Are you safe? Please just let me know you’re okay.
I know she’s just being supportive but I can’t help but to roll my eyes.
Me: I’m safe. I’m with Rustin.
Kendall: I fucking knew it. Stay there.
Kendall: Also, Wilder's been texting me updates for THREE YEARS hoping you'd come back
Me: What?!
Kendall: Dude’s been Team Kara since day one. Says Rustin's only happy when he talks about you
Me: It’s a little late to be passing this along lol, don’t you think?
Kendall: Whatev… Enjoy the reunion sex. I’ll handle Mom and Dad.
“Your family freaking out?” Rustin hands me a full drink and I take a sip off the top.
“My sister. She’s running interference.”
“That’s good.” He takes a long drink from his own mug then leans back. “You can’t stay here, Kara.”
The words hit like a punch to the chest. “What?”
“Not tonight obviously. Tonight you don't have a choice. But after. The storm should clear by morning. The roads won't be safe until they plow—”
“Just so you know, I wasn’t planning to stay here.” I fold my arms over my chest with a lie I’m not sure how to land.
“Weren’t you?” His eyes pin me. “You ran straight here. In a wedding dress. To me.”
“No,” I snap. “I told you, I just ran and there was nowhere else to go. Somehow I ended up here.”
“Bullshit.” The word is soft but firm. “You could have gone out to Misty Mountain, stayed at that little hotel you like so much. Could have driven to your sister’s place. But you came here. So why don’t you tell the truth, for once.”
“Fine.” I put down the mug before I drop it.
“Fine. The truth is I stood at that altar and all I could think about was you. You would have hated everything about the wedding. The stupid ice sculpture and the pretentious music. Then I thought about how you’d look at me in this dress…
You know, before it was trashed by the snow.
” My voice cracks. “I was about to promise my life to someone else and your stupid, handsome face was all I could see. The worst part is, I knew you were out here in Lumberjack Lagoon, hating me.”
There’s a long stretch of silence as the truth bubbles between us. It sucks up all the air in the room.
“I tried to hate you. It didn’t take. Every time I’d get close to convincing myself that you weren’t it for me, I'd remember something.”
“Like…” I raise an eyebrow in a flirty challenge.
Rustin’s eyes go dark. “Like the way you'd bite my shoulder when you were close. How you'd be so pretty when I took my time. The sounds you made when I'd use my tongue to—"
"Stop," I whisper, and my cheeks flush with heat.
"Why? You're already squirming. I'm already thinking about it. I can see it in your eyes." He stands and paces to the window. “Look you and I both know that this isn’t a good idea. You and me. You just blew up your entire life. You’re in crisis. I’m not going to be your rebound.”
“You’re not—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Aren’t I? You literally ran from another man’s arms to mine.”
There’s a sadness in his tone that breaks my heart. A long beat of silence settles between us.
I let out a heavy exhale. “I ran from a life that was suffocating me.”
“And tomorrow? Next week? When the adrenaline wears off and reality sets in? When your family comes looking?” He turns to face me. “What then?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t have a plan. I don’t have answers. All I know is that I couldn’t say those vows.”
“And you think that means we can just pick up where we left off?” Fire builds behind his eyes.
“No.” I stand too. The blanket falls off my shoulders and pools around my feet. “I think we’re different people now. I think we both have scars. I think it would be complicated and messy. But complicated and messy with you is still better than perfect with anyone else.”
The words hang between us like snow in the air.
He crosses to me slowly, stops just out of reach. “You destroyed me when you left. I looked for you in every crowd. I couldn’t sleep because every single time I closed my eyes, there you were. I can’t do that again.”
"Then let me earn you back," I say, stepping closer. "Let me prove every single day that I choose you. I'll stay here. I'll learn to split wood. I'll make those Reynolds family cookies until I get them perfect. I'll—"
"Kara—"
"No, you need to hear this. I fucked up. I was young and scared and stupid, but I'm not that girl anymore. I know what I want. I want Sunday mornings with you. I want blizzards where we're snowed in. I want your grumpy face before coffee and your terrible singing in the shower—"
"I don't sing that bad."
"You really do." I'm crying now, ugly crying. "But I want it all. Every off-key note. Every flannel shirt. Every minute you'll give me."
The words hit harder than the storm outside. For a second, neither of us moves. Then something flickers in his eyes. It’s grief, maybe, or the ghost of who we used to be, and it breaks my heart.
“I’m sorry.” I meet his eyes. “If I could go back and change it, I would. I’ve thought about it hundreds of times in the last three years. I wish I could go back to that day. I can’t. But I can promise you that I will never put you in that situation again.”
He studies me for a long moment and I don’t miss the tears building behind his eyes. When he finally speaks, his voice comes out rough and gravelly. “We’ll start with three days whether we like it or not. The storm’s supposed to last three days. After that we’ll see.”
A tiny smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Okay, we’ll see.”
Rustin nods once, decisive. “You need to get out of that dress. Shower’s down the hall. I’ll find you something to wear.”
The bathroom door doesn't lock properly, but I don’t care.
I peel off the soaked dress and let it pool on the floor like a three-thousand-dollar mistake.
I pull a thousand bobby pins out of my hair, but the chignon holds without them.
The hairstyle lasted longer than the marriage.
I’ve got to find out what products she used.
When I step in, the hot water is heaven on my frozen skin, and I moan at the sensation.
I stay in the shower for far too long sending every minute of my day down the drain.
As I turn the water off, I hear footsteps stop in the hall.
I know he's there, just outside the door. I can feel his presence like electricity in the air. The frosted glass shower door is just clear enough at the top that if he wanted to look he’d have no problem.
"The towels," his voice is strangled, "are in the cabinet."
"I can't reach them from here." It's not entirely a lie. But with him this close, ending my night in his arms is the only thing I can think about. I can’t resist hedging my bet.
For a moment there’s only silence.
“Come on, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” the alcohol makes me brave.
The door creaks open wider. I see his silhouette freeze when he realizes how much he can see. Want flickers in his eyes. But Rustin sets the towels on the counter with shaking hands and turns away from me.
"I'm going to split wood."
"Seriously, it's freezing outside."
"Good." The door closes harder than necessary.