Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“It was fun. Don’t read so much into shit, baby. Be in the moment because the next second isn’t promised.”
Her face flushes deeper, a rosy pink spreading across her cheeks. She bites her lip and looks down at her food.
Silence stretches between us again, but it isn’t awkward. It is charged. Warm. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t be possible yet somehow is.
After we finish, I stand, collecting our empty plates.
She rises too. “Let me help.”
“I’ve got it.”
“I want to.”
Her tone isn’t pushy—it is gentle. Needing to participate, not just receive.
So I nod. We move around each other easily, like some small domestic dance we have done a thousand times. She rinses dishes. I dry. She wipes the counter. I stoke the fire.
When everything is clean, she turns toward me with a small smile.
“Dinner was amazing.”
I give her a shrug. “Glad you liked it.”
“I more than liked it. I think that was the best dinner I’ve had in months? Maybe longer.”
I smirk. “I’ll cook again.”
She raises and eyebrow in question. “Will you?”
“If you’re here.”
Her breath hitches.
She stares at me a long moment, eyes flicking over my face, searching for something. Maybe confirmation I’m not teasing. Maybe permission to want more.
“Tony,” Her voice softens. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
I step closer. Slow. Deliberate. Not touching her—just letting my presence settle around her like heat from the fire.
“Because I want to be,” I state simply. “Because you deserve someone in your corner.”
Her eyes shimmer.
I don’t touch her. Don’t kiss her. Don’t push.
I just stand there, giving her space to decide.
After a few seconds, she exhales shakily. “Thank you.”
“For dinner?”
“For everything.”
I nod once. “You’re welcome.”
She hugs her arms around herself like trying to contain all the emotions swirling inside. “I should probably go. I have a full day tomorrow.”
“You sure?” I ask softly.
She hesitate—just long enough to tell me she didn’t want to leave. But finally she nods.
“Okay,” I respond. “Let me walk you out.”
At the door, she pauses, looking up at me through her lashes. “I’m glad I came,” she whispers expectedly.
“So am I.”
She draws in a slow breath, then steps into the cold night. I standon the threshold, watching her climb into her car.
Before she shuts the door, she calls softly, “Goodnight, Tony.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Sleep well, Holley.”
Her cheeks flush again, and she begins back down the drive.
I wait until her taillights disappeared behind the trees before closing the door.
The cabin feels different now.
Warmer, but also empty in a way without her sharing space with me.
Still quiet—but a quiet that feels expectant, as if something had shifted in the air and settled there, waiting for the next time she walks through that door.
And I know, deep in my chest, that this isn’t the last dinner we’d share.
Not by a damn long shot.
Ten
Holley
I don’t remember the last night I actually slept. Not really slept. Just the kind of dozing where your body sinks and your brain finally stops tallying everything you did wrong in life. The cold doesn’t let me. It crawls into the car with me, curls around my spine, and grips me with fingers that feel like they belong to winter itself.
By the time dawn edges up over the trees, my toes are numb, my neck is locked stiff, and my head aches like I’ve been clenching my jaw for hours. The car windows are fogged from where my breath hit them all night, little crescents of frost spiderwebbing across the glass. I wipe the windshield with the sleeve of my coat, but it doesn’t help much.
I’m so tired my eyes burn.
Another night of this. Another morning trying to pretend I’m fine.
I turn the heater on even though it eats gas I can’t spare. Warm air sputters out weakly. I hover my hands in front of the vents, begging them to actually do something. Eventually they thaw enough that I can grip the steering wheel.
Work. I just have to get through work. After a steaming hot shower at the gym, I face the day ahead.
The dental office is warm, at least. Heated, bright, and smelling like mint and disinfectant—an odd comfort. But the moment I step inside, I can feel Kendra’s eyes on me. I know I look like hell. Hair piled in a messy knot. Dark circles under my eyes. My scrubs rumpled from being in my bag in the cold.
“You okay, hon?” Megan asks. She doesn’t mean anything by it. She’s gentle. But I still flinch inside.
“Didn’t sleep great,” I reply, forcing a smile I hope looks casual.
She gives me the kind of assessing glance that tells me she’d push if she thought I’d cave. I don’t. I move toward my desk, pull patient files, and get everything ready for the day. But I’m sluggish. Clumsy. I drop a tray of sterilized tools and cringe as they clatter across the floor.