Chapter 10 #3
Slater studied her for half a heartbeat, like he was deciding whether to push or let it go. He let it go—of course he did. That was Slater’s way. Easy. No pressure. No heavy conversations unless absolutely necessary. It was one of the things she liked about him.
It was also the thing that made the idea of leaving hurt more than it should.
He held the door open, and she slipped past him into the warmth of the cabin.
The scent of pine and whatever woodsy candle Maisie insisted every cabin have wrapped around her immediately, chasing away the chill.
Behind her, the door clicked shut, sealing them inside a pocket of quiet that felt suddenly, almost painfully intimate.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Slater crossed to the small table and gathered up the stray mugs they’d left behind earlier, stacking them absently. “You cold?” he asked, not looking at her.
“A little.”
He set the mugs down and grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch, tossing it in her direction. She caught it against her chest, the soft fabric still faintly warm from the earlier fire. The simple gesture squeezed something tight and uncomfortable inside her.
Don’t do this, she warned herself. Don’t turn every little thing into something bigger just because you’re leaving.
She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders anyway.
Slater leaned his hip against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest. His hair was a little messy from the night breeze, his T-shirt rumpled, and he looked so completely at home here that it made her throat ache.
This place suited him. The laid-back pace, the small-town familiarity, the way everyone knew his name and he knew theirs right back.
He didn’t belong in Seattle high-rises and traffic and endless gray drizzle.
And she didn’t belong in a life where she hovered on the edges of someone else’s town, waiting to see if they’d decide she was worth rearranging everything for.
Not that he would. Slater didn’t rearrange his life for anyone. He’d told her as much in a dozen different casual, joking ways that hadn’t felt like warnings at the time. They’d just felt honest. And at the time, she’d appreciated it.
Now? Not so much.
“So,” he said lightly, “it sounds like you all had a great time at girls’ night tonight.”
She huffed out a small laugh. “It was definitely a lot of fun. Although Connor made way too much food.”
“It’s what he does.”
“I can’t believe I even had any room for s’mores.” Her hand dramatically rested on her belly.
He grinned, and for a second, everything felt completely normal. Easy. Just Evie and Slater teasing each other in a cozy cabin after a night with friends. No ticking clock. No looming flight back to Seattle.
Just this.
She clung to that feeling, even as it slipped through her fingers.
Slater pushed away from the counter and crossed the room, stopping in front of her. He was close enough that she could see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes, the ones she hadn’t noticed the first week they’d met. Close enough that she could feel his warmth, steady and familiar.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.
There it was. The question she’d been hoping he wouldn’t ask and yet needing him to ask all at once.
Evie’s fingers tightened in the blanket.
For a reckless second, she imagined telling him everything.
That she was counting down the days and hating herself for it.
That she was terrified of what next week would feel like when she walked through airport security and away from him.
From them. That she wanted—ridiculously, impossibly—for him to tell her he’d go with her.
But that wasn’t who they were.
They were light and fun and temporary. They were s’mores and inside jokes and late-night walks, not heavy conversations about the future. If she pushed, she might break the fragile, perfect thing they’d managed to build in this little bubble of time.
And she couldn’t bear to lose even a minute of it early.
“I’m fine,” she said, injecting just enough brightness into her voice to make it believable. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”
His gaze lingered on her face, searching, like he could see the thoughts she was carefully tucking away.
For a moment, she thought he might press again.
Instead, he reached out and tugged gently on the edge of the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, drawing her a step closer. “Then we should probably go to bed.”
Her heart stumbled. “Probably.”
He brushed his thumb along her cheek, the touch soft enough that it almost undid her. “I like having you in my bed, Evie,” he added, voice lighter now, teasing but warm. “Even though you steal the blankets.”
She rolled her eyes, grateful for the shift back to something safe. “Excuse you. I do not steal the covers.”
“Bean,” he said solemnly, “you are a blanket thief of legendary proportions.”
A laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it, easing some of the tightness in her chest. “You’re so dramatic.”
“And yet accurate.”
He took her hand then and led her across the tiny living room toward the bedroom. The small lamp on the nightstand cast a warm glow across the rumpled sheets, making the space feel even more intimate than the rest of the cabin.
Evie hesitated in the doorway for half a second, her gaze catching on the bed. On the quiet promise of another night beside him. Another memory she’d have to tuck away and carry home with her.
Just one more week, she told herself. Don’t ruin this by thinking too far ahead.
She slipped off her shoes and set them by the wall, buying herself a few extra seconds to breathe. Behind her, Slater moved around the room with easy familiarity, straightening the messy covers on the unmade bed, and dimming the lamp.
Slowly, he kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his dark boxer briefs.
Just the sight of him made her sigh. His body was all lean, muscled perfection.
And when he lay down on the bed and patted the space beside him—beckoning her to join him—she quickly shimmied out of her own clothes before slipping on one of her nighties.
When she finally climbed into bed, the blanket rustled as he pulled it up over them both, instinctively tucking it around her shoulders first before settling in close beside her.
The small, automatic kindness of it made her chest ache again.
She rolled onto her side, facing him. In the soft lamplight, his features were relaxed, his eyes steady on hers. No pressure. No expectations. Just Slater.
Her fingers found his chest, smoothing lightly over his warm skin, because she needed the physical proof that he was real and not some fleeting, perfect dream.
He covered her hand with his, squeezing gently. “Hey.”
For some reason, that one word made her throat tighten. “Hey.”
He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for a second longer than usual. The tenderness of it stole her breath, but she didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask what it meant. Didn’t risk turning the moment into something heavier than it was allowed to be.
Instead, she closed her eyes and let herself drift closer, fitting against him like she had so many times before.
But for tonight, at least, she could pretend this wasn’t temporary.
That next week wasn’t looming just over the horizon.
That this—warmth, quiet, Slater’s steady breathing beneath her ear—was enough.
And for now, it was.
Slater’s arms came around her, tightening their hold on her just slightly as he gently rolled her beneath him. She held his gaze, memorizing the feel of his arms around her, the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Just one more week.
He kissed her then—slowly and sweetly seductive. It was everything she wanted and needed. Then she let herself sink into the kiss with him, knowing neither of them was going to sleep anytime soon. And that was more than okay with her.
Evie knew she needed Slater to claim her—body, mind, and soul—because soon, these memories were all she was going to have.