Chapter 6
Kyler
Morning comes too fast.
I wake up to Noel packing her duffel bag, and something in my chest clenches painfully. She's humming, but there's a tension in her shoulders that wasn't there yesterday.
"You don't have to rush," I say.
She jumps, then laughs. "I thought you were asleep."
"Hard to sleep when you're trying to sneak out on me."
"I'm not sneaking." But she won't quite meet my eyes. "Just getting ready. Like we talked about."
Right. The plan. She drives back to Nashville today. I follow in a couple days. We try the long-distance thing and see what happens.
It's a good plan. A reasonable plan.
I hate it.
I get up and cross to her, stilling her hands on the zipper of her bag. "Talk to me."
"I'm fine."
"Noel."
She finally looks at me, and I see the fear in her eyes. The same fear that's been gnawing at me since we woke up.
"What if this doesn't work?" she whispers. "What if we get back to real life and realize this was just... a moment in time? A beautiful, perfect moment, but not something that can survive outside this cabin?"
"Do you believe that?"
"No." She says it immediately, fiercely. "But I'm terrified anyway."
I pull her into my arms, and she comes willingly, burying her face in my chest.
"I'm scared too," I admit. "I haven't let myself care about someone in so long. Haven't let myself want a future with anyone. And then you showed up and turned everything upside down."
"Sorry about that."
"Don't be." I tilt her chin up. "You're the best thing that's happened to me in two years. And yeah, maybe this is fast. Maybe it's crazy. But I don't want to lose you because we're too afraid to try."
"So what do we do?"
I look at her duffel bag. At the cabin around us. At the life we've built here in three impossible days.
And I make a decision.
"Don't go," I say.
She blinks. "What?"
"Don't go. Not yet. Not like this." I take a breath. " Stay. With me. Here. For a few more days."
"Kyler, I have to get back—"
"Do you? Really?" I cup her face. "It's winter break, right? You don't have school. And I cleared my schedule for two weeks because I was planning to hide from humanity." I smile slightly. "So stay. Let's take this time and see what we have. No rushing. No pressure. Just us."
"That's insane."
"Probably."
"People will think we've lost our minds."
"Let them." I lean my forehead against hers. "I don't want peace anymore, Noel. I don't want silence. I want you. Here. With me. For as long as you'll stay."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can practically see her mind working—weighing risks, calculating odds, trying to be sensible.
Then she kisses me.
"Okay," she breathes against my lips. "Okay. Yes."
Relief crashes through me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She grins. "But you're buying the groceries. That chicken was the last real food in this place."
I laugh and spin her around, and she squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck.
"You're sure?" I ask, setting her down. "About this? About us?"
"I've never been more sure of anything." She touches my face, her expression soft. "You were right. I wasn't just passing through. I was finding my way home."
We spend the rest of the day making the cabin actually livable for a longer stay. I drive into town—the roads are clear and the sun is brilliant on the snow—and stock up on supplies. Real food, more firewood, candles just in case.
While I'm out, I stop at a small hardware store and buy something else. Something I've been thinking about since last night.
When I get back, Noel's made the bed with fresh sheets and is attempting to organize the kitchen.
"How can anyone live like this?" she asks, gesturing at the haphazard cabinet situation. "There's no system."
We spend an hour rearranging everything to her specifications, and I pretend to grumble about it even though I love watching her make this place ours.
That night, we make dinner together. She tells me about her ex, about how he always made her feel like she was both too much and not enough.
"He was wrong," I say, chopping vegetables.
"I'm starting to believe that."
"Good." I set down the knife and turn to her. "Because you're not too much. You're exactly right."
She kisses me, and we nearly burn dinner because neither of us can stop touching each other long enough to focus.
After we eat, I lead her to the couch. "I have something for you."
"Another orgasm?"
"Later,” I say, smiling. I pull out the small box from my jacket pocket. “It’s a small thing…”
Her eyes widen. "Kyler—"
"Don’t panic,” I say with a laugh. “Just open it."
She does, and pulls out a simple key.
"It's to my place," I explain. "In Lexington. I want you to have it. So you can come and go whenever you want. So you know you have a place with me."
Her eyes fill with tears. "That's..."
"Too much?"
"Perfect." She launches herself at me, and I catch her, laughing. "It's perfect. You're perfect."
"Far from it."
"Perfect for me, then." She pulls back to look at me. "I don't have a key to give you. But I have this."
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small plastic snowman—the kind that's clearly from a kindergarten craft project. One of its stick arms is slightly crooked, and there's too much glitter.
"My students made these before break. This is the one I made." She sets it in my palm. "I know it's not fancy, but—"
"It's perfect," I say, echoing her words. Because it is. It's bright and messy and full of joy. Just like her.
I set it on the mantel next to our popcorn garland, and when I return to her side, she leans against me, surveying our strange little collection of decorations.
"We're really doing this," she says softly.
"Yeah. We are."
"My friends are going to think I'm crazy."
"My sister definitely will." I pause. "She's been trying to set me up for a year. She's going to lose her mind when I tell her I met someone."
"Good crazy or bad crazy?"
"Good. Definitely good." I kiss the top of her head. "She'll love you."
"How do you know?"
"Because I love you."
The words hang in the air between us. Too soon, maybe. Too fast. But also completely, undeniably true.
Noel turns in my arms, her eyes searching mine. "Say that again."
"I love you." The words come easier the second time. "I know it's fast. I know we're supposed to take it slow. But I love you, Noel. I think I started falling the moment you walked through that door."
"Good," she whispers, tears streaming down her face. "Because I love you too. So much it terrifies me."
"Then we'll be terrified together."
She laughs through her tears, and I kiss her—slow and deep and full of promise.
Later, when we're lying in bed watching the firelight dance on the ceiling, she says, "What happens after this?"
"We figure it out." I tighten my arm around her. "Nashville. Lexington. Wherever. We make it work."
"That simple?"
"That simple." I turn to look at her. "I'm not letting you go, Noel. Not after finding you. So we'll figure out the logistics. Together."
"Together," she agrees, smiling. "I really like that word."
"Me too."
She curls closer, her breathing gradually evening out as she drifts off. But I stay awake a while longer, staring at the ceiling and marveling at how much can change in a few days.
I came here to hide from Christmas. From life. From feeling anything at all.
Instead, I found everything I didn't know I was missing.
And tomorrow, we'll start building a life that lasts.