Page 16 of Garrett

“Fair?” I finally look at him, hating how my heart still skips at the intensity in those gray eyes. “You made it very clear this was temporary. I just forgot that for a while.”

“I never said—”

“You didn’t have to.” I grab my coat, needing to escape before I completely shatter. “Colorado’s waiting, remember?”

“Damn it, Rachel, will you just listen—”

“I need some air.” I’m already moving toward the door. “I’m going for a walk. To clear my head.”

“It’s freezing out there.”

“I know.” Just like my bed has been since that night. Just like my heart will be when he leaves.

The path to the river is treacherous with late-season ice, but I welcome the challenge. It gives me something to focus on besides the ache in my chest. Besides the knowledge that he’s standing in the doorway, watching me walk away.

The river is frozen over, ice shelves extending from both banks while dark water rushes beneath them. It mirrors how I feel - suspended between solid and liquid, between staying and flowing away.

I don’t look back. Can’t bear to see if he’s still watching. Can’t bear to see him at all, knowing these are our last moments before he drives away forever.

The wind whips harder, carrying ice crystals that sting my cheeks. Or maybe those are tears. At this point, I can’t tell the difference.

The ice makes a satisfying crunch under my boots with each step. It feels solid enough, thick enough to hold my weight and my heavy thoughts. I’ve walked this path a hundred times since buying the property, though never quite this far onto the frozen river. Never quite this recklessly.

A gust of wind nearly knocks me sideways, and I catch myself, arms out for balance. The setting sun casts long shadows across the ice, turning everything into shades of blue and gray. Like his eyes. God, even here, even now, everything reminds me of him.

I take another step, then another. The rushing water beneath the ice creates an endless whisper, drowning out my thoughts. Maybe if I walk far enough, I’ll forget the sound of his laugh. Thefeel of his hands. The way he looked at me that last morning, like I was something precious.

The crack comes without warning - a sound like a gunshot that echoes across the valley. For a split second, time seems to stop. I can see everything with perfect clarity: the spider-web of fractures spreading beneath my feet, the last rays of sunlight glinting off the ice, the water rushing toward me.

Then the world drops away.

I scream as the cold hits like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs. Dark water closes over my head as the current grabs me, pulling me under the ice shelf. I kick hard, desperate to find the opening, but everything is black and cold and I can’t tell which way is up.

My heavy coat drags me down. My lungs burn. The rational part of my brain knows I should stay calm, but panic claws at my chest as I spin in the current.

The last thought before darkness creeps in isn’t about the gallery, or the cabins, or my family.

It’s about storm-gray eyes and rough hands and a voice like whiskey over gravel.

Chapter 8

Garrett

The cold air burns my lungs as I step outside, watching her figure grow smaller against the white landscape. My hands clench and unclench at my sides, fighting the urge to go after her. To explain. To beg her to understand.

But maybe this is better. Cleaner. A clean break hurts less in the long run - right? Better to walk away now than to risk heartbreak. Better to leave before Rachel becomes as essential as breathing.

Except she already is.

The thought hits me like a physical blow. When did this stubborn, brilliant woman work her way so deep under my skin? When did her smile become the best part of my day? When did-

Her scream splits the air.

I’m running before my brain can process what I heard, boots pounding against packed snow. The cold wind tears at my face but I barely feel it. All I can think is: not again not again not again.

The cracked ice tells the story in jagged lines. The dark hole in the middle speaks of absence.

“RACHEL!”

---