Chapter 5
Chapter five
Lucia
The morning felt like a dream, filled with enough kisses that I'd lost count of how many times he'd pressed his lips to mine.
Even now, the mere memory is enough to send a flush straight to my cheeks. Blame it on a moment of weakness or the sheer impossibility of keeping our hands off each other, but my skin still pricks where his fingers brushed. I'm aching with a hunger I didn't know I had until he woke it up.
Breakfast was entirely free of awkward glances.
Instead, we traded amused smiles over our plates, like co-conspirators sharing a secret the rest of the world hadn't caught onto yet.
Everything about it felt easy. Natural. As if I already held a permanent spot at his table rather than dropping into his life less than twenty-four hours ago.
With the weather still against us, there isn't too much to keep us entertained. However, I know that if I lean into him, using him as a way to pass the time, we'll be asking for trouble.
After slipping away long enough to fetch me a pair of pants to cover my legs, he beckons me to the front door.
"Let's get some fresh air. It'll beat sitting in this stuffy place all day." One curl of his finger is all it takes to make me follow. It's not the command in his voice, but the magnetic pull I've felt for this man since the moment he came into my life.
Nearing my backpack, the sudden thought of my hiking trip pops up. What should've only been a one-day trip has turned into a longer vacation, making me remember the life I left down at the base of the mountain.
Jessie and Gwen. They were probably losing their minds by now. I dig my phone out of the pack, completely unsurprised to find the screen black and dead.
"You don't happen to have a charger, do you?" I ask, hating how the question immediately punctures the quiet, perfect world we'd spent the morning building.
Dawson stares at the dead device in my hand. For a second, his jaw tightens, a flash of something I can't place crossing his features before he gives a slow, reluctant nod.
"I have one," he says, turning away before I can understand the look on his face. "But the roads are a mess. I wouldn't ask anyone to risk coming up to get you now. If anything... I can drive you down tomorrow."
A guilty thrill shoots through me. It's a relief to know I'm not the only one who wants to stick around a little longer.
I follow him to plug it in. Once the device has some life, I'll just reassure those two that I'm alive and leave it at that.
I'm in no rush to move this along.
He turns to head outside, his shoulders rigid, but the tension melts out of him the moment I reach out and catch his forearm.
My ankle is still useless, and without his steady weight to lean on, I would be left in the dust. He doesn't complain. Instead, he slows his pace, guiding me out into the damp, gray afternoon.
Last night, the blinding storm and my own panic kept me from seeing anything. Now, the front porch reveals itself as a quiet sanctuary, the air rich with the scent of wet cedar and rain dripping steadily from the roofline.
He leads me to a swinging bench, one that creaks beneath his weight and groans beneath mine. Considering asking if this thing can hold us both up, he uses his legs to push us.
"Not used to having company on this, is all.
It's fine." Reading my fears on my face, he cracks a smile before turning his attention to the rain falling off the ends of leaves.
It's a calm falling of drops now. "My sister, Emily, comes here every now and then, but she takes up the whole thing by herself. "
Remembering the woman in the photo I'd stared at before, I'm placing that as her.
Following his gaze, my stomach tingles as his words register.
How can a man like him be alone out here with nothing but an occasional visit from a sibling?
"I've never seen you around town before," I say, noticing that our surroundings aren't as terrible when I have company.
Willowbrook Ridge is small enough that everyone knows everyone.
Even if I do spend most of my time cooped up in my home, I would've noticed a man like Dawson enter the same space as me the moment we crossed paths.
As handsome as he is, I know someone would've made a comment about how shameful it is for such good looks to be wasted on reclusivity.
He grunts at my words, nodding once to agree. "Getting away from people is pretty nice once you pull yourself away. I've been up here long enough not to bother with wasteful trips down unless I need to. Everything I need is up here."
He mentions his sister isn't too far away, only a couple of miles further around the mountain. He does monthly grocery trips, making sure to leave early enough to beat the rush. From the way he speaks, he hates the town as much as I hated the mountain only the day before.
"Aren't you lonely?" The question blurts out of me, my curiosity winning over. "I mean—"
"Before yesterday, I could've easily said no to that." The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, and he sighs. "After today, yeah. I'm going to be really fucking lonely."
The steady creak of the porch swing suddenly feels incredibly loud in the silence that follows. I freeze, his words echoing in my mind until the truth of them clicks.
Me. He’s talking about life without me.
We’ve been getting along so naturally that it should feel like an obvious conclusion, but hearing the genuine pain vibrating through his rough tone catches me completely off guard.
A bittersweet ache blossoms behind my ribs, leaving me staring at his profile, utterly defenseless against how much he already cares.
The truth is, I recognize that ache because it matches my own. I've been running from the suffocating emptiness of my life at home, using this trip as an excuse to escape a house that felt entirely too quiet. I didn't climb this mountain looking for someone.
But out here, wrapped in his clothes and leaning into his warmth, the silence doesn't feel empty anymore.
Still, I can't suggest the crazy idea of staying. A few kisses are one thing, but I refuse to give in to my greed if Dawson is only looking for something temporary.
I’ve saved my heart for a reason. I believe in love—not the kind that blazes hot only to leave behind ashes, but the kind that swells and grows.
Sitting in the quiet of his porch, looking at his profile, I have to wonder if that is something I could find with a man like him?
Everything in me says it's too risky, but there's something about this man that screams everything is right.
Slipping my hand from my lap, I bridge the small distance between us and press my palm into his. I give his hand a gentle squeeze—a silent promise that, at least for right now, he isn't alone.
Neither of us speaks. We just sit there, hands linked, looking out at the peaceful sanctuary of the mountain as the rain falls steadily around us.