Chapter 14 #2
She tilted her head, and a few curls spilled over her cheeks. “I thought you said you weren’t going to apologize.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sorry for what I said.”
“Then what?”
I crossed the floor and grabbed the single stool in the room to sit across from her. “I’m sorry you’re sad.”
“Sad?” She blinked slowly, and then again, her long, dark eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks for a moment. “I’m feeling a lot of things right now, Preston. But sad is not one of them.”
“No?”
“No.” She shook her head, and her painted pink lips curled up again into that easy smile I’d been so happy to see. “Relieved. Terrified. Free. And more than a little unhinged, for sure.” Her smile turned wry. “But definitely not sad.”
I let out a slow breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “You look like you’d been crying.”
“I was.”
I cocked a brow, and she laughed.
“It was more of an I can’t believe I just did that laugh.” She shrugged. “Like I said, a little unhinged.”
“Unhinged looks good on you.” I laughed a little. “It’s different. I like it.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I mean it. You look different. But in a really good way,” I added quickly.
“And I don’t mean the makeup…” I waved my hand in a circle to encompass her made-up look, and she laughed harder.
“I don’t like how it’s covering your freckles, to be honest,” I admitted before continuing.
“But you look lighter and just…I don’t know how to explain it,” I finished lamely. “But I like it.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I know I should probably feel bad and totally guilty for what I just did, but I don’t.”
She turned her attention back to the puppy, who was snoring softly in her lap. The fire popped behind me, the cabin already warming up nicely. The rain on the roof had settled into a steady rhythm.
“I think we might be stuck here for a bit.” I shifted on the stool.
“That suits me just fine.” She leaned back against the wall. “I’m not exactly in a hurry.”
I knew she meant that she wasn’t in a hurry to get back to the mess she’d left behind, but the way she said it made me wish she meant something else entirely. Something that had nothing to do with running, and everything to do with me.
“Well.” I cleared my throat and stood. “Since we’re not going anywhere for a while, I have something that might help us pass the time.” I rummaged through my pack that I’d left by the door, and pulled out my meager supplies that included a few dehydrated meals and a small metal flask.
“Whiskey?” Her eyes lit up with interest.
“Good whiskey,” I corrected her.
She shifted over on the small bed to make room for me to sit. Summit groaned and wiggled closer to her again. “And why would you have good whiskey for a night alone in the hunting cabin?”
I probably shouldn’t have told her the truth, but there didn’t seem to be much point in hiding it. I unscrewed the top and handed her the flask. “Because today was supposed to be your wedding day.”
Jess
I held the flask, the weight of the words he’d spoken hanging between us.
Because today was supposed to be your wedding day.
I stared past him to the fire, listening to the rain drum steadily on the roof, trying to understand what he meant before lifting the flask to my lips.
The whiskey burned and heated me from the inside out.
“So,” I said carefully as I passed it back to him. “You were planning on celebrating my wedding?”
His mouth twitched, and he shrugged before taking a pull on the flask. “Depends on your definition of celebration.”
I frowned and took it back from him when he passed it over. “Wait,” I said, realization dawning. “You were out in the trails, not at the wedding.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You weren’t going to go to the wedding?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“But…”
“Does it matter?” he challenged. “After all, it turns out there wasn’t a wedding to go to anyway.”
“No…but…” My confusion deepened. “Everyone was going,” I said. “The whole town and—”
“Not me.”
“You just weren’t going to show up?” I lifted the flask again, but put it down before drinking. “Why?”
He hesitated this time before answering. Long enough for something low in my belly to tighten.
“I didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be there,” he said finally.
“Why?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. I already knew the answer. He didn’t like Trevor. He’d told me so. Still, I needed to hear it.
Preston looked at the floor, then back at me, his expression open and vulnerable in a way I wasn’t used to seeing from him. “I couldn’t watch you marry him, Jess.”
My breath caught.
“I couldn’t sit there and pretend to be happy about it.
I don’t care what the reason was for you doing it…
I couldn’t face the idea of shaking his hand and congratulating him when what I really wanted to do was punch him.
I couldn’t stand the thought of you settling for so much less than you deserve.
” He shook his head. “And I sure as hell wasn’t going to bear witness to it. ”
I swallowed hard.
“I figured I’d take Summit out, and do some maintenance work on the back trails and spend the night here, maybe have a drink or two,” he went on. “And try not to think about it.”
“You were going to drink because of me?”
“I told you,” he chuckled, “I wasn’t celebrating.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Preston’s eyes darkened as he held my gaze. He reached out, and for a moment, I thought he was reaching for me, before he took the flask from my grip. “I didn’t want to feel it tonight,” he said finally and took a swig from the flask.
“Feel what?” My voice was breathy and rough.
He looked at me, his eyes steady and unguarded. “You.”
The world tilted.
I wasn’t surprised. Not really. But at the same time, it was the last thing I’d expected to hear.
“You told me you didn’t believe in love,” I said, my voice barely louder than the rain outside.
“No.” He dropped a finger to my thigh.
Just one, but fire burned through me where he touched me.
“I told you I didn’t think love was practical for most people,” he corrected. “That’s not the same thing.”
I swallowed.
“But I’ve never been much of a practical person, Jess.”
A soft, silky laugh slipped from my lips. I turned a little so I faced him. He didn’t move his finger away. Instead, the rest of his fingers joined and cupped the curve of my thigh.
A shock shot through me.
Suddenly, I was very aware of how close we were sitting, his touch on my leg, the heat from his body, the space that was left between us, and how easily it could disappear.
“Preston,” I said, my voice unsteady. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m not asking you to know.”
“What are you asking for?”
I was afraid of the answer, but not for a reason I could articulate.
Before he could give it to me, I leaned in and closed the distance between us. But only enough that he could still pull away if he wanted to.
He didn’t.
The kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, like neither of us was sure what we were doing. And maybe we weren’t.
But for one quiet moment, with the storm raining down outside, the mess I’d just run away from behind me, and the truth neither of us had said out loud yet, I let myself believe that maybe wanting something didn’t automatically make it a mistake.
And that scared me almost as much as I liked it.