Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
He crosses his arms, the movement making his muscles flex under his shirt, but his expression is as hard as granite. “Or maybe you’re just scared, Lila,” he counters, stepping so close I can see the fire in his eyes. “Scared of wanting something that doesn’t fit neatly into your little plan. What are you really afraid of? That you might actually be happy here? That this might be real?”
The words strike like a blow, knocking the breath from my lungs. My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I feel a crack open inside me, raw and painful. But I can’t let him see it. I lift my chin, throwing every ounce of defiance I have into my glare. “I’m not afraid, Holt. I’m just being realistic. Not everyone can live in a fantasy world where all that matters is the next thrill.”
The bitterness in my voice hangs between us, colder than the mountain air. He flinches, just barely, but I see it. And I hate that I care. I turn away, wrapping my arms around myself as if that can hold me together. “I have a career back in the city,” I continue, my voice quieter now, more like a plea than an argument. “I’ve worked so hard to build something, and I can’t just... throw it all away.”
He lets out a rough laugh, the sound cutting through the early morning stillness. “Fine. Be realistic, Lila. But don’t pretend that’s all this is. You felt it last night as much as I did. And you’re running because it’s easier than facing it.” His hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for me, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, a storm brewing behind his eyes, the same way one rumbles through the mountains before it breaks.
His words pierce deeper than I want them to, but I force myself to keep my back straight, to keep my voice steady even as my throat tightens.
“I–I don’t know what to say, Holt.” The words slip out, barely loud enough for him to hear, but I feel their weight settle between us.
For a moment, I think he might grab my arm, might pull me back into the mess of us, but he just stands there, his jaw clenched, his shoulders rigid. I gather my things quickly, stuffing my sleeping bag into my pack, my fingers trembling with the effort of keeping my composure. Each motion feels like a goodbye, like closing the door on something I don’t quite understand but know I can’t afford to want.
I don’t look back as I start down the trail, even though every step away from him feels like it’s tearing something inside me. The path is steep, rough beneath my boots, and I focus on the sound of my footsteps, letting it drown out the thoughts swirling in my head.
But as the distance grows between us, I can’t shut out the memory of his touch, the way he looked at me last night like I was the only thing that mattered. And I can’t escape the gnawing ache in my chest that tells me I’ve left more than just a night under the stars behind on that ledge.
Chapter Eight
Holt
I watch her go, the fire in my chest burning hot and out of control, searing through every shred of my self-control. The urge to call out to her claws at my throat, to demand she turn around, face me, admit that there’s more between us than just some fleeting fling. But I clamp my mouth shut, locking the words behind my teeth, letting the anger twist into something darker, something I don’t know how to control.
My hands curl into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms until the pain becomes a sharp, grounding point. The mountain wind howls around me, icy and relentless, but it’s nothing compared to the storm raging inside. I thought I could keep this simple, keep her at arm's length, but somehow, she slipped under my skin, and now she’s dragging a part of me down that damn trail with her.
What the hell am I supposed to do with the empty space she’s left behind, with the silence that rings louder than the angry words we threw at each other? I stand there, rooted to the spot like an idiot, feeling the warmth of her fading fast against the chill of the dawn. My chest tightens, every breath burning with the memory of her body pressed against mine, of the way she made me feel like I was more than just the man I’ve become since the accident.
With a sharp curse, I turn and kick at a loose rock, sending it skittering over the edge. It bounces down the mountainside, disappearing into the shadows below, and I wish I could fling every damn emotion in me right along with it. I should be relieved that she’s gone—that I don’t have to face the risk of wanting something that could break me all over again. But as I stare out at the valley, the sun creeping up to paint the horizon in gold, I know that relief is a lie—just like every other wall I’ve built around myself.