Chapter 11
ELEVEN
ERICA
Falling in love is different than I imagined.
It’s different than how I’ve written it.
It turns out the most dangerous thing about falling for someone is how quickly it starts to feel normal.
Not dramatic.
Not overwhelming.
Just… woven into the shape of your days.
Boone makes coffee before I wake up now.
He doesn’t announce it. Doesn’t make a production out of it. He just sets a mug beside my notebook in the mornings and disappears to shovel snow or split kindling or check the generator while I write my morning pages.
He never interrupts.
Never rushes me.
Sometimes he leans against the doorway and watches for a second like he’s proud of me for sitting there in mismatched socks and a sweater that smells faintly like smoke, tapping out sentences like my life depends on it.
Which, lately, it kind of does.
I’m halfway through a paragraph when the front door opens and closes with a thud.
Snow boots stomp.
A minute later Boone sticks his head into the living room, cheeks flushed from the cold, hair flattened by a beanie.
“Drive’s clear.”
I blink up at him. “The whole thing.”
“All couple miles.”
“That took you forever.”
He grins. “I am heroic.”
“You are ridiculous.”
He shrugs. “Same thing.”
I save my file reluctantly.
“You hungry,” he asks. “We could head into town. Restock. Get out of the house for a bit.”
My stomach flutters.
“Yes,” I say too fast.
He notices.
Smiles.
The truck ride feels… easy.
Windows cracked just enough for cold air to seep in. Music low. Boone tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with it.
“You finish the book,” he asks casually.
“I did.”
“And.”
“And I’m terrified.”
“That’s a good sign.”
I glance at him. “You say that about everything.”
“Because it’s true.”
In town, errands blur together into something that feels suspiciously like a date. Coffee. Hardware store. Grocery run. Him tossing chocolate into the basket like it’s an afterthought and then pretending not to notice when I catch him.
“I didn’t say no.”
“You didn’t say yes.”
“Keep dreaming.”
Outside the post office, we run straight into Knox and Quincy.
Quincy beams when she sees me. “Erica!”
She pulls me into a hug before I can react.
“What—hi.”
“This is so exciting,” she gushes.
Boone stiffens beside me.
“…what is.”
She blinks. “You didn’t tell him.”
Tell him what.
My stomach sinks.
Knox clears his throat. “It’s… making the rounds online.”
Boone turns to me slowly. “What’s making the rounds.”
I stare at them. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Quincy frowns. “Your book. The rumor that a major publisher is trying to buy it. And that there are film people sniffing around.”
My ears ring.
“What.”
Knox nods. “Saw it on two industry blogs this morning.”
I shake my head. “That’s not—nothing is official.”
Boone’s hand tightens on the strap of the grocery bag.
“That’s incredible,” he says.
His voice is steady.
Too steady.
“That’s… really incredible, Erica.”
I manage a smile that feels glued on. “It’s just talk.”
“Still,” Quincy says. “Congratulations.”
Boone nods again. “Yeah. Congratulations.”
The ride back is quieter.
Not silent.
But not the same.
“I would have told you,” I say finally.
“I know.”
“It was literally this morning.”
“I believe you.”
“You don’t sound like you do.”
He keeps his eyes on the road. “It’s not a big deal.”
My chest tightens.
It is.
I can feel it in the way his shoulders are tense. In the way he’s put a careful inch of space between our hands on the console.
The cabin comes into view.
Snow glittering.
Home.
For now.
And suddenly I’m afraid of how fragile that word might be.