Page 9 of S'more of Silas
I could lie. Instead, I raise my chin to meet his glare head-on. “What about us?”
His eyes narrow, hazel like Cassie's but without the warmth. "Cassie deserves someone who won't break her heart. Someone who won't disappear when things get complicated or hard. Someone who'll stick around."
I take a breath, keep my voice steady. "I've spent my life building fires that last, Sinclair. I don't do sparks that burn out fast. And I don't disappear."There I go with another fire metaphor… Cassie really is rubbing off on me.
"Everyone says that in the beginning." He steps closer, and I can see why opposing teams used to be intimidated by him. "Words are easy. Keeping them is the hard part."
"I know." I don't back up, don't look away. "If I hurt her—and I won't, but if I do—you have my permission to beat me to death with the blunt object of your choice."
His expression shifts, something flickering in his eyes. He studies me for a long moment, and I can see him reassessing, recalculating.
"You're serious," he says finally. It's not a question.
"Dead serious." My voice doesn't waver. "Cassie's not just a chapter in my life, Orion. She's the whole story. She's the ending I didn't think I'd get."
He exhales through his nose, and I watch as some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. Not all of it—he's still a protective older brother, still ready to step in if needed—but enough that I know I've made my point.
"You better mean that," he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I do." I hold his gaze, let him see the truth of it. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life."
For a moment, we just stand there, two men sizing each other up. Then, grudgingly, something like respect flickers across his face.
Behind us, a voice cuts through the tension like a knife through butter. "Are you two done yet?”
Cassie.
She's standing ten feet away, hands planted on her hips, eyes darting between us with a mix of exasperation and amusement. She's wearing jeans and a burgundy sweater that makes her hair look more copper than auburn, and she's looking at both of us like we're idiots.
Still, there's warmth in her eyes when she looks at me. Understanding. Maybe even appreciation, even if she won't say it out loud.
When I reach for her hand, she takes it without hesitation, threading her fingers through mine. The simple gesture feels like a statement—to me, to Orion, to anyone watching.
"Sorry about him," Cassie murmurs. "He means well."
"He's looking out for you," I say. "Can't fault him for that."
She tilts her head back to look at me. "Were you really going to get in a fistfight with my brother at the fall festival?"
"No." I brush a strand of hair away from her face. "But I wasn't going to back down either. I love you, and I’ll fight for you if I have to.”
She stands on her tiptoes to brush her lips across mine. “I love you too, Silas.”
For the first time in years—maybe in my entire life—I feel like I've found where I belong. Not alone on the ridge in my cabin. Not in the woods by myself. But right here, with this woman who writes stories and sees the world in mysteries and makes me feel like I'm more than just the sum of my past. I belong with Cassie, wherever that happens to be.
Epilogue
Cassie
Oneyearlater
The cabin smells like cardboard and printer ink, overlaid with the scent of coffee that Silas brewed an hour ago and the cinnamon-apple rolls I picked up from Joy's this morning. Outside, the mountain air is cool and crisp, carrying hints of woodsmoke from the first fires of the season. Boxes of my new book,Marshmallow Mayhem,are stacked in precarious towers across the floor, waiting to be hauled down for tomorrow’s Fall Festival.
"You need to write shorter books. These boxes are going to weigh a ton,” Silas mutters, slicing through packing tape withprecision. His hair is longer now, brushing his collar, and he’s grown a beard that I’ve learned to love.
I laugh. “It’s a good thing I married a big, strong mountain man who can carry my books for me.”
He lifts the box with a grunt and carries it over to stack by the door with the others. “Between now and next year’s festival, let’s invest in a pack mule.”
