Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
My connection with her has evolved and deepened. Sex was just one part of it. I’m certain he noticed the change the second he saw me. I’m not the only one who’s grown and matured over the past month. I feel different. Lighter. More complete. He sees it in my eyes, in the set of my shoulders, in the twitch of my lips.
He growls at that but says nothing.
There are things to discuss, details to share, boundaries to establish, but I’ll let him initiate that conversation when he’s ready.
“You guys are doing the thing again.” Frankie resumes walking.
He gives me a final look and catches up with her, entwining their hands. “What thing, love?”
“The silent conversation with your eyes.” Keeping her gaze forward, she holds out her other hand for me. “Sometimes I feel like a third wheel in your bromance.”
I grip her offered hand, matching their strides. “Every look shared between us whispers your name, woman.”
“Mm-hmm.” She presses her lips together, but the corners pull upward.
“You’re not the third wheel.” Leo bends in, laying it on thick. “You’re the heart that keeps us breathing.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “By breathing, he means panting.”
She bursts out laughing.
The final miles feel both interminable and fleeting, each step bringing us closer to the end of our journey. When we finally reach the door of the cabin, I pause, letting the significance of the past month wash over me.
I don’t intend to ever return to that hunting cabin, but whenever I think back on it, it will no longer be a place of terrible loneliness in my mind. I’ll remember it as a harbor of survival, rebirth, discovery, and love.
Sharing a look with the two people who are my future, we step over the threshold together, ready to face what comes next.
After a hot shower and a hard sleep that feels too long and not long enough, I stir from the warmth of the hearth.
The fire has dwindled to embers, but the residual heat lingers.
Frankie lies nestled against me, her breaths even and calm in sleep. Leo, however, slipped out of our embrace at some point.
I lift my head, but my search is brief. He sits on the floor across the room, back against the wall, legs bent, his gaze fixed on us.
Pushing myself up, I breeze past him with a nod and navigate the cabin’s cold, sparse interior toward the armory. Hidden inside one of my old quivers is a bottle of cherry vodka, my last project before our ingredients ran out. Retrieving it feels like unearthing a piece of the past meant for this moment.
Returning to Leo, I join him on the floor and set the bottle between us. We drink in silence, the kind that only brothers who’ve shared lifetimes of unspoken words can appreciate.
Yet, amid this comfort, the need to clear the air intensifies.
“I missed you.” It’s a simple truth, as easy to voice as breathing.
His response comes with a half-smile. “We’ve been apart for longer stretches. Every time you went hunting, it felt like you were gone for months.”
“It was different this time. Everything feels more dangerous and desperate.”
He nods, his gaze fastened on her. “Everything is changing.”
“So are we.” I watch the way he studies her peaceful form. “Our relationship has shifted, including our relationship with her, in a positive direction.” I tilt my head. “I know this is new, and we’re still adjusting, but I’m struggling to read you. What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know, man.” His voice lowers, a confessional tone creeping in. “While you both were gone, I went through hell. Anger, worry, jealousy—it all got twisted up in my head. Every single day, I thought about setting out after you, following your tracks in the snow.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I made it to that point on the hill every day, the one where you can see for miles. And every day, I stopped myself. I paced back and forth, fighting with everything inside me.” A sigh escapes him. “But I calmed down, every time. Because I knew. I knew you would take care of her. You promised me you’d bring her back safe, and despite all the shit snarling in my head, I trust you.”
The glow from the dwindling fire casts shadows on his face, giving his admission a stark intimacy. “So I went back to the cabin, slept on it, and the next day, I’d find myself back at that spot, pacing again. That’s why the snow there is so worn down. It became my stopping point, my waiting spot…my boundary I wouldn’t cross.” He meets my gaze, his eyes clearer now than I’ve ever seen them. “As the days passed, I grew calmer, more accepting. I reached a point where nothing else mattered but seeing you both return to me. It didn’t matter what happened between you out there, how close you became, how often you were fucking her, or if you were stealing her heart away…as long as you came back to me, happy and healthy.”