Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“I don’t know if I can stay,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can stop running.”
Barron leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving mine. “You don’t have to know,” he says softly. “Maybe you don’t have to stop running. Maybe you just need to slow down. Take a breath.”
His words hang in the air, and for a moment, I just stare at him, feeling my heart race, feeling the pull between us. I want to believe him. I want to believe that I can stop, that I can stay. But it’s terrifying.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” I admit, the fear creeping back into my voice.
Barron reaches out, his hand brushing lightly against mine, and the warmth of his touch sends a jolt of electricity through me. “Maybe neither of us is,” he murmurs, his voice rough but tender. “But we don’t have to be ready. We just have to be willing to try.”
His words hit me harder than I expect, and suddenly, I feel the weight of everything lifting, just a little. He’s right. Maybe we don’t have to have it all figured out. Maybe we just have to take it one step at a time.
I lean into his touch, my fingers curling around his, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself feel the possibility of something more. Something real.
The fire crackles softly beside us, and the cabin feels warm, safe. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know if I can stay, if I can stop running. But for the first time, I’m willing to try.
The cabin feels smaller now, the air thick with everything unspoken between us. The crackle of the fire is the only sound, filling the silence that stretches like a tightrope between Barron and me. His words are still hanging in the air, echoing in my mind. You don’t have to run anymore.
My heart thuds in my chest, the weight of his vulnerability cracking something open inside me, something I’ve tried so hard to keep buried. I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to let someone in, to let myself feel this. But now, with Barron sitting across from me, his eyes dark and searching, I feel my defenses slipping, crumbling under the weight of his honesty.
He leans in, his movements slow, as if testing the waters, unsure of what comes next. My breath catches as his lips brush against mine, soft at first—tentative. But there’s an intensity beneath it, a quiet urgency that pulls me in. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to stop it.
I kiss him back, and it’s slow, deliberate, like we’re both exploring something neither of us knows how to handle but can’t walk away from. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, the roughness of his calloused palm grounding me, anchoring me to the moment. My hands find their way to his chest, resting over the steady beat of his heart. It’s strong, solid, a steady rhythm beneath my palms, and I press closer, feeling the warmth of him seep into me.
I’m scared. Scared of what this means, scared of the way my body reacts to his touch, the way my heart skips a beat every time he looks at me like I’m something he’s trying to figure out. But in this moment, as his lips move against mine, I know one thing—I don’t want to run anymore. Not from him.
We pull away slowly, our breaths mingling in the space between us. My heart pounds in my chest, and when I look into his eyes, I see that same uncertainty staring back at me. He’s just as unsure as I am, but there’s something else there too—something that makes my chest tighten.
Hope.
It lingers in his gaze, that flicker of something more, something real. And it scares the hell out of me, but it also makes me want to reach for it. Maybe we’re both too broken, both carrying too much, but I feel like we’ve just stumbled onto something that could make all of it worthwhile.
We sit in silence for a long time, the only sound the crackle of the fire and the soft, steady rhythm of our breathing. I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. His arm slips around me, his hand resting gently on my back, the weight of it comforting. The warmth from the fire wraps around us like a protective cocoon, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself enjoy the moment.
I close my eyes, letting the steady beat of his heart lull me into a sense of calm. I’m still scared. I’m still not sure if I can stay, if I can be the person who settles down, who doesn’t keep running. But with Barron, it feels different. He’s steady, like the mountain itself, and for the first time, I’m willing to try.