She’s a woman now. Strong. Capable. Brave as hell. And she looked at me tonight like I was safe, but not foolish. That’s why she asked me to watch as she went to her car for clothing.
When she reached for my hand out there by the SUV, something shifted. like all the tension I’ve been carrying for the last four years tilted a little. Loosened.
I don’t know what to do with that. It doesn’t replace Logan. Nothing could dothat. But somehow, her presence feels like a bridge to the past … and the way my body responds around her, perhaps the future too.
Right before I turn in, I pause outside Logan’s door. I haven’t stood here in a while. It’s like the whole hallway holds its breath when I do.
The door’s stillopen. No light inside. Just the faintest outline of the quilt on the bed, and the shadows of a life paused mid-sentence. I close the door gently. It’s enough memories for one day and night.
Back in my room, I lie awake longer than I mean to. Listening to the hum of the fan overhead and the soft creaks this cabin makes when it settles.
I shouldn’t feel this much. Not this fast. Not for her.
But when she took my hand, when she thanked me for letting her in, I did.
And damn me, I didn’t want to let go.
Chapter 8
Liam
Three Days Later
Iround the bend in the gravel path between our properties and pull up short, catching sight of her. Flip-flops. Cut-off shorts. Bikini top.
Hell.
She’s standing on a small ladder, paint roller in hand, one arm stretched overhead as she works on priming the cabin’s exterior trim. The sight hits me likea gut punch.
Long legs sprinkled with paint splatter, the curve of her waist dipping just right before those shorts take over revealing just a bit of her butt cheek. This wrecks me. Her hair’s twisted up in a knot, exposing the slope of her neck and the glint of sweat between her shoulder blades.
She doesn’t see me yet.
I should turn around. Give her privacy. Be decent.
But I don’t.
Instead, I take another step and say, “You know OSHA would have a field day with that footwear, right?”
Tessa lets out a tiny yelp and nearly drops the roller. She glances over her shoulder, laughing as she steadies herself. “Jeez, you scared me.”
“Didn’t mean to. Just didn’t want to walk into a crime scene if you slipped and broke something.”
Her eyes roam down to her feet. “Yeah, well, it’s hot. And my work boots aresoaked with yesterday’s storm. These are … temporary rebellion.”
“Rebellion looks good on you,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
She pauses. Slowly lowers the roller. “What was that, Coach Rowe?”
I scrub a hand over the back of my neck. “Nothing. Just … wondering if you needed a hand.”
“With the painting?” she asks, lips twitching like she already knows she’s playing with fire.
“Or the ladder supervision. Can’t be too careful when you’re out here tempting gravity … and everything else.”
She smirks. “Pretty sure I’ve got it handled, but you’re welcome to stand there and give tips. But … you can’t supervise.”
Jeez, she’s killing me in that outfit.
