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Chapter 724:
“Yes,” he said. “All of that. I’m not apologizing for wanting you, June. I’m not pretending to be something I’m not. I want you in ways that aren’t civilized, that aren’t appropriate, that would probably frighten you if I spoke them aloud.” He looked up at her, and his eyes were absolutely, terrifyingly open. “But I also want you whole. Healthy. Capable of walking away from me if that’s what you choose. And right now—” he gestured at her ankle, at the ice, at the mountain they still had to descend, “—right now, you need me. Whether you want to or not p>
June felt the words land. Felt their accuracy, their uncomfortable truth, the particular humiliation of dependence on a man she didn’t trust and couldn’t escape.
“Get the ice,” she said. “Then we’ll talk about how I get down this mountain p>
Crawford smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes, but it was real—almost tender, the expression of a man who had won something he hadn’t expected to win.
“Yes,” he said. “We will p>
He stood, stretched, and walked back toward the trail, leaving her with the ice and the view and the growing certainty that she had made a terrible mistake coming here—to this place, on this morning, when her defenses were low and her need for silence had overridden her need for safety.
Below, in the parking lot she couldn’t see, a black Mercedes G-Wagon pulled to a stop.
Cole Compton stepped out, his face pale, his eyes fixed on the trailhead, his hands shaking with the particular tremor of a man who had driven through the night on nothing but coffee and desperation.
He didn’t know she was here. Not for certain. The retreat center had refused to confirm or deny, citing privacy policies, and he had been reduced to physical presence, to waiting, to the pathetic hope that she might appear.
He started up the trail, his expensive shoes immediately muddy, his coat inadequate for the mountain chill, his heart hammering with a rhythm that had nothing to do with exertion and everything to do with the dream he had had—the one where she was falling, where he couldn’t reach her, where he watched her disappear into fog and never came back.
N𝘰ve𝘭ѕ i𝗇 𝗍rе𝗇𝘥 𝗈𝘯 ga𝘭𝗇𝗼𝘷е𝗅𝗌.сom
The ice had numbed the worst of the pain, turning June’s ankle into a distant, throbbing presence she could almost ignore. Almost.
She shifted on the bench, trying to find a position that didn’t put pressure on the injury, and felt Crawford’s hand immediately on her shoulder—steadying, supporting, absolutely unnecessary.
“I can sit by myself p>
“Of course you can.” He didn’t remove his hand. “But you don’t have to p>
June looked at him. At the patience in his expression, the absolute certainty that time was on his side, that eventually—today, tomorrow, next year—she would yield to the logic of his persistence.
“Why the retreat center?” she asked. “Of all the places to—” she gestured, vague, “—to stage your coincidence. Why here p>
Crawford was quiet for a moment. His hand slid from her shoulder to the bench beside her, his fingers tracing the weathered stone, the carved initials, the accumulated history of a place that had witnessed more prayers than he had probably spoken in his lifetime.