Page 61 of Knotted Laces

I love him too.

Maybe not the same way as he says he does me—but I love his drive and focus, and the way he’s so kind and thoughtful. I love that he didn’t bat an eye when his family invaded or when I was a snarly beast waking him up with that splash of water. I love that I’ve known him for a decade, and he’s always been himself.

So, I can’t turn away right now, even though I’m quaking in my boots.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, or how to…dothis.”

His expression locks down.

“But…” I’m feeling so much—too much and not enough—addicted and unable to stop, terrified to traipse down this trailand yet even more scared to stop. And all of that fuels my next words. “But…I’m willing to try.”

Relief across the handsome lines of his face.

And I know that even though this might all blow up in my face…

I still made the right decision.

Of course, I won’t know until later, that this will also be the worst mistake of my life.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Cam

I’m riding highas she lets me help her into her coat, as she sits on the couch and shoves her feet into her boots, as she lets me take her hand and draw her outside.

The sun is setting, and I need to show her why I bought this place.

Need.

Yeah.

To her credit, she doesn’t question me, just walks by my side as we pick our way across my yard. The gravel path is riddled with puddles, the rocks scattered this way and that from the storm, but it’s traversable and pretty soon we make it to the clearing at the back of my property.

Her exhale tells me enough.

Because it tells me that she feels it too.

“It’s why I put an offer in on this place, even though the cabin’s walls were practically crumbling down,” I say, clambering on top of the boulder and extending my hand.

She hesitates for a moment before taking it, before allowing me to draw her up next to me. “This is beautiful,” she says ona sigh, settling by my side and staring out at the valley that sits between me and my neighbor. The sun is setting in the distance, turning the sky into a watercolor of reds and pinks and oranges.

“It is,” I agree, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

“But”—she glances up at me, lips twitching—”you bought a house for a view?”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t for the house.”

Her brows flick up.

“I bought this place from the old owner,” I explain, “and the fact that the bridge washed away probably speaks to the state of the property when I first started working on it.” I shake my head. “Total shambles—a leaking roof, a rotten floor in the bathroom, electrical that needed replacing, and a septic tank that was pretty much a hazardous waste site.”

“Yikes.”

“I think the owner was so thrilled to have an offer that he couldn’t get out of here fast enough. And my realtor advised…well pretty much against everything to do with this place. But—” I nod out at the valley again.

“But this,” she whispers.

“This,” I agree, and we stare out at the view for long moments before she speaks again.

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