Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
I don’t know who moves first.
Maybe we both do.
Because one second I’m clinging to him and the next, his hands slide to my waist and I slide off the bench, straight into him.
We’re standing, chest to chest, no space between us, our breaths tangling. His heartbeat thunders against mine.
“Savannah.” The word vibrates against my collarbone.
His hand lifts, fingers threading into my hair. I gasp lightly, and he shudders.
The kiss is inevitable.
It’s right there.
Right there.
He dips his head, lips brushing mine just once—barely a touch, barely a breath—but the shock of it is a wildfire under my skin. My hands grip his shoulders. His exhale breaks.
“Tell me no,” he whispers. “And I’ll stop. Tell me now.”
No is impossible.
My lips part, not for a word, but for him.
He swears under his breath—low, reverent, wrecked—and then—
He kisses me.
It’s not gentle.
It’s not controlled.
It’s a decade of grief and longing and missed chances erupting at once. His mouth claims mine with a hunger that punches the air out of my lungs. My hands clutch harder at his jacket. His arm bands around my waist, pulling me closer.
I gasp, and he deepens it, kissing me like he’s waited ten years and isn’t wasting another second. Heat flares through me, dizzying and fierce. My fingers slide into his hair and he groans—an actual sound, raw from his chest—as if he’s surprised by how badly he needs this.
Needs me.
He backs me into the locker wall without breaking the kiss, but gently—so gently it makes my heart lurch. His palms settle on either side of my face, holding me like a precious thing he’s terrified to lose again.
His lips slow.
Soften.
Linger.
Then he pulls back just enough for his mouth to brush mine as he breathes, “Savannah…”
I open my eyes.
He’s staring at me with something that looks like dawn breaking through smoke.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
The question shatters me.
I nod and then shake my head at the same time. “I don’t know.”
Axel’s thumb strokes my cheek, tender, grounding. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”
I exhale, shaky, trying to steady myself. “That kiss—”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, voice still rough from it. “I know.”
“It felt like—”
“Coming home.” He finishes it for me.
God.
I swallow, chest aching with everything I don’t have words for.
“I’m scared,” I admit.
“I know,” he whispers, leaning his forehead to mine again. His breath warms my lips. “So am I.”
We stand there, breathing the same air, hearts still racing, lips swollen, bodies still trembling with too much and not enough. And then he presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
A second to my hairline.
A third to my temple.
Gentle. Reverent. Devastating.
“Savannah,” he murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”
My eyes sting. “Promise?”
His hand moves to the back of my neck, thumb brushing the curve of my jaw.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “This time, I do.”
The door creaks somewhere down the hall.
We break apart fast, both breathless, both flushing. He steps back, trying to regain control. I straighten my jacket, trying to look less kissed-senseless.
But even from three feet away, his eyes keep finding mine.
I feel every look like a hand on my spine.
We’re changed now.
And we both know it.
He nods once, slow. “Get some rest.”
“You too.”
He turns toward the doorway. I watch the broad line of his shoulders, the flex of his hands, the tension in every part of him like he’s fighting the urge to come back and kiss me again.
Just before he steps out, he glances back.
His voice is soft, thick, unguarded: “Savannah… tonight didn’t break you.” I blink. “It broke me,” he says, voice cracking, “in all the right ways.”
Then he’s gone, boots echoing down the hall.
I stand in the quiet aftermath, trembling, lips still burning, heart still racing.
And for the first time in years—the fire inside me doesn’t feel destructive.
It feels like a beginning.
Chapter Thirteen
Axel
The snow crunches under my boots as I step out of the truck, the cold sharp enough to bite straight through the layers of my jacket. Dawn hasn’t fully settled over Devil’s Peak yet, the horizon just starting to glow a subtle rose gold behind the mountains. The kind of quiet morning that feels like the whole world is holding its breath.
Savannah stands a few feet ahead of me, her gloved hands on her hips, studying the old Brooks property like she’s trying to see through time.
Her home. Her past. Her ghosts.
She looks smaller than usual bundled in her puffy coat and thick scarf, but there’s something in the way she carries herself—spine straight, chin lifted—that makes her look ten feet tall. Savannah is made of pure steel, even when she trembles. Especially when she trembles.
She hears my footsteps and glances over her shoulder. “You showed up early.”
I shrug. “Sun was up. Figured you’d be up too.”
Her mouth curves, soft but guarded. “I should’ve known. You always used to beat me outside on snow days.”
The memory hits so fast it knocks the breath from my lungs—her in a pink jacket with a broken zipper, me in mismatched gloves, both of us waiting for enough snow to justify skipping school and building forts instead.