Chapter 7 Kara
kara
The storm finally gave up sometime before dawn.
When I wake in the warm afterglow of the most amazing night of my life.
The world outside is buried in white and the cabin smells like coffee and woodsmoke.
I'm back in Rustin's shirt. My hair is mussed. My skin smells like him. It’s an absolute dream.
We move around each other in a slow, wordless rhythm.
Our laughter spills into the silence when I drop my mug and shatter it after all these years.
Rustin tells me he doesn’t need the mug anymore because now he’s got the real thing.
I fry eggs while he chops impossibly more wood outside.
Everything feels new, but it isn’t fragile.
Being with Rustin is the most natural thing in the world.
After breakfast, we clean up together. I hum under my breath and catch him staring at me like I’m the most beautiful thing in the world.
It makes my heart skip. When I return his look with a kiss to his neck, Rustin presses me against the kitchen counter.
His mouth is hot on my neck and his hand slides under the shirt I'm wearing.
My phone vibrates on the charger and interrupts what was probably going to be amazing kitchen sex. I can’t help but glance at the screen.
"Well, the storm must have knocked down a tower because suddenly my phone is alive with a million backed-up messages. Look at that, they’re stacking up like a digital avalanche.”
Rustin nuzzles his response into my neck. “Makes sense. Roads are open.”
I turn to look up at him. “No, that means someone could drive up.”
"Let them," he growls as he slips a hand between my legs. "Let the whole damn town know you're mine."
The man makes it incredibly hard to care. I lean back into his chest and relax into his touch. He knows my body well enough to have me panting and arching back into him for more.
But the sound of an engine rumbling up the driveway makes us freeze. He pulls back, breathing hard and grumbling under his breath, as a vehicle appears through the window.
"Fuck," he mutters, adjusting himself. "Kid has the worst timing."
But when the car comes into full view, my stomach drops. It's not Wilder's truck. It's a black Range Rover with Massachusetts plates.
"It’s Marshall," I breathe. "He said he wouldn't come. He seemed to handle things surprisingly well, so something must be… His car has snow chains. He probably thought—" I dry my hands, heart racing. "I should talk to him."
"Not alone."
"Rustin—"
"Not alone," he repeats, and there's something protective and possessive in his tone that makes it impossible to disagree with him.
Marshall gets out of the car, looking absurdly out of place in his designer winter coat and pristine boots. He sees us through the window, raises a hand in greeting that looks more like surrender than a challenge.
I open the door before he can knock. "Marshall."
"Kara, you haven’t responded to anyone in days.
It was me or your father heading up this way.
After Wilder told us where you’d gone. I figured I’m the lesser of all evils in this situation.
” His eyes flick to Rustin behind me, then back.
"I came to… to make sure you're okay. And to bring your things.
" He gestures to a bag in his car. "Your sister packed it. "
"I’m fine. You didn't have to—"
"I did. I needed to see for myself that this was real. That you're actually choosing..." He looks at Rustin again. There's no anger in his stare, just resignation. "I remember him, you know. From the photo you used to keep hidden in your jewelry box."
My face burns. "Marshall—"
"You'd look at it sometimes when you thought I wasn't paying attention. This expression would cross your face. It’s like you were homesick. Now it’s making a lot of sense."
"I'm sorry," I say and I mean it. "You deserved better."
"I deserved someone who looked at me the way you look at him." He runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "I knew when you started crying during the cake tasting that this was wrong. But I thought we’d grow into loving each other."
"It doesn't work that way," Rustin says quietly and it’s not unkind. "Believe me, I tried that too."
Marshall nods. "You two have history. I get it.” He goes back to his car and returns with my bag. "Just so you know your mother is still threatening to come up here herself."
"The roads—"
"Won't stop her if she's determined. I told her I'd handle it, bought you maybe a day at best if I had to guess." He looks at Rustin. "Take care of her."
"Always have," Rustin says simply.
Marshall turns away and I put a hand to my chest. That was awful and I hope he finds his person. Just like that his Range Rover disappears down the mountain. Suddenly it's just us again. Rustin hasn't moved from the doorway, his shoulders rigid with tension.
I cross the threshold until I'm standing behind him.
My fingers brush his shoulder, tracing down the rough flannel until they find his hand.
He doesn't turn around, but he doesn't pull away either. For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The fire cracks. Snow slides from the roof in soft, muffled thuds. His thumb grazes the back of my hand. It’s barely a touch, but it's enough to make my breath catch.
"You okay?" I ask softly.
He drags a hand over his face. The gesture is rough. He exhales slowly. "He didn't deserve to drive all the way up here just to lose you."
"He didn't deserve to love someone who wasn't all in," I counter.
“Are you all in now? What happens when the snow melts?”
"Nothing." My voice is steady, but my pulse is anything but. "I stay here by your side where I should have been all along.”