"Could they? Really?" His thumb traces circles on my palm, a small point of connection that feels more intimate than it should. "Can you honestly see yourself living on this mountain? Giving up the career you've built? The life you know?"
The questions hang between us, heavy with implications I'm not prepared to address. Because the truth is, I can see it. More clearly than I should be able to after less than a week. I can see mornings waking up beside him, evenings watching the sunset from the deck, a life built on something real instead of the smoke and mirrors of celebrity.
But I'm not ready to admit that. Not to him, and maybe not even to myself.
"I don't know what I see," I say honestly. "I just know that right now, I'm happier here with you than I've been anywhere else in years."
Something shifts in his expression. "That's the isolation talking. The relief of being away from the pressure, the cameras, the expectations. It's not about me."
"Don't tell me what my feelings are about," I say, pulling my hand from his. "I've had enough of that in my life. People telling me how I should feel, what I should want, who I should be. I didn't expect it from you."
He flinches as if I've struck him. "I'm sorry. You're right."
"Do you even believe that? Because you seem pretty convinced that you know exactly how this ends."
"Nova." He reaches for me again, but I step back, needing space to think, to breathe, to process the whiplash of going from his arms to this careful distance in the span of a few hours.
"I need to get dressed," I say, wrapping my robe tighter around myself. "Your brother's probably waiting for breakfast, and we don't want to keep the security detail hungry."
The sarcasm is childish, but I can't help it. I'm hurt, and when I'm hurt, I lash out. It's a defense mechanism I developed years ago, when I realized that showing vulnerability in this industry was like bleeding in shark-infested waters.
"This isn't about Cade," Finn says, his voice low and controlled. "This is about us figuring out what last night meant and where we go from here."
"Seems like you've already decided where we go. Back to professional distance and pretending we don't feel what we feel."
"That's not what I want."
"Then what do you want, Finn? Because I'm getting mixed signals here."
He steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "I want you. More than I've wanted anything or anyone in longer than I can remember. But I'm also terrified of what that means. For your safety. For my sanity. For whatever future we might or might not have when this is over."
The raw honesty in his voice cuts through my anger. "I'm scared too," I admit, letting him see the vulnerability I usually hide so carefully. "I don't do this. I don't fall for men I've justmet. I don't imagine futures that have nothing to do with my career. I don't let people in."
"And yet here we are."
"Here we are."
He reaches for me again, and this time I don't pull away. His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone in a touch so gentle it makes my heart ache.
"I don't know how to do this," he says softly. "How to be with someone while also keeping them safe. How to balance what I feel with what I'm responsible for."
"We figure it out together," I say, leaning into his touch. "Day by day."
He nods, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.
The moment is broken by a knock on the bedroom door, followed by Cade's voice. "Finn? We've got a situation."
Finn's expression shifts instantly from vulnerable lover to focused protector. "What kind of situation?"
"Frank's on the satellite phone. FBI has a lead on the stalker. And it's not good."
The blood drain from my face as reality comes crashing back. For a few precious hours, I'd almost forgotten why I'm here. Why Finn is in my life at all. The danger that brought us together and will eventually, one way or another, separate us again.
"I'll be right there," Finn calls to his brother, then turns back to me. "Get dressed. We need to talk about this together."
I nod, already moving toward the bathroom on legs that feel unsteady. "I'll be down in five minutes."
He catches my arm as I pass, pulling me against him in a swift, fierce embrace that contains none of the uncertainty of our earlier conversation. Just protection, possession, a wordless promise that whatever is coming, I won't face it alone.
