Page 72 of Embers in Autumn
I caught her face in both my hands, firm but gentle, holding her like she was the most breakable thing I had ever touched.
“Amber,” I said, my voice rough, “listen to me. Then do not. Do not say them. If those words carry that much pain for you, then never give them to me. Not once. If it keeps you safe, if it keeps you breathing easier, then never speak them. Not in a month, not in a year, not in fifty years.”
Her tears spilled over, wetting my fingers, but I pressed on, my own throat tightening.
“Stay your life with me,” I whispered fiercely. “Stay every morning, every night, every storm and every quiet Sunday. Stay when we fight, stay when we laugh, stay when we are old and wrinkled and nothing like we are now. Stay, Amber. And neveronce say those words if you cannot bear them. Because I do not need to hear them. Not from you. I just need you.”
Her lips trembled, her body pressed hard to mine, her hands clutching at my shoulders like she was afraid I might vanish.
“I want you,” I went on, my voice breaking, “not the words. I want your laugh echoing in my kitchen. I want your books stacked on every surface of my house. I want Lana coming home from school and telling me about the new novel you handed her. I want to argue with you about candles and fire hazards until we are both gray. I want the quiet nights, the loud fights, the ordinary moments nobody else sees. I want *you.* All of you. For as long as you’ll let me.”
Her tears slid faster now, and I kissed them, my lips soft against her skin.
“Do not ever say you love me if it hurts you,” I whispered. “Just do not let me go. That will be enough. That will always be enough.”
For a long moment, all I could hear was her uneven breathing, her body shuddering against mine. Then her lips brushed my ear, her voice so small it nearly broke me in half.
“Don’t let me go.”
The words broke against my chest, raw and trembling, and they gutted me.
I pulled her in tighter, arms closing around her like I could fuse us together, like if I held on hard enough the universe itself wouldn’t dare try to take her from me. My lips pressed to her temple, her tears hot against my skin.
“Never,” I whispered, fierce and certain, the kind of vow a man makes once in his life and means until his last breath.
CHAPTER 22
Amber
I’d been nervous all morning, changing my outfit three times before settling on a soft-knit dress and a pair of boots. Cozy but not too casual. Presentable, but not fussy. It was Thanksgiving, not a gala, and yet my heart hammered as I walked up the path to Sarah and Andrew’s house.
It was a beautiful home, the kind that instantly radiated family warmth. A wide porch stretched across the front, adorned with garlands of autumn leaves twined around the railings. Pumpkins—real and painted—lined the steps, and a wreath of dried corn husks and cranberries hung proudly on the door. Through the windows, golden light spilled out, and I caught a glimpse of a dining table already set with polished silver and candles waiting to be lit.
Before I even knocked, the door flew open.
“Amber!” Lana’s voice was bright, her excitement so genuine it chased away some of my nerves. She grabbed my hand and tugged me inside with more strength than I expected. “You’re here! I want you to meet my cousins.”
I barely had a chance to wipe my boots on the mat before I was introduced to a tall, dark-haired girl about Lana’s age, who gave me a polite smile, and a younger boy, maybe eight, who was bouncing in place with the jittery energy of too much pumpkin pie before dinner.
“This is Sophie,” Lana said, gesturing to the girl, “and that’s Jacob.”
“Hi, Amber,” Jacob chirped before darting away toward theliving room, where the sound of a football game roared faintly from the TV.
“Sorry about him,” Sophie said with a faint roll of her eyes. “He’s always like that.”
I grinned. “I’ve met worse whirlwinds in bookstores. You should see kids hopped up on hot chocolate.”
That earned a smile, even from Sophie.
Then Sarah appeared, wiping her hands on a cheerful apron patterned with little orange turkeys. She was lovely, with Dean’s dark hair but softer features, her eyes instantly welcoming. Andrew followed her out, taller than Dean, with a broad smile and the easy demeanor of a man who fit into the role of host naturally.
“So this is Amber,” Sarah said warmly, stepping forward to hug me like we’d known each other longer than a few seconds. “Dean has talked a lot about you.”
My cheeks heated at that, though I tried to keep my smile steady. “All good things, I hope?”
Sarah’s grin widened knowingly. “Only good things.”
Andrew gave me a firm handshake before turning back toward the sound of Jacob hollering at the TV, muttering something about referees under his breath. Sarah leaned closer to me, lowering her voice.
