Page 63 of Wrecked on the Mountain

I point to the medical textbook abandoned on my coffee table when the words wouldn't stop spinning.

"I was trying to study tonight, and I couldn't focus because all I could think about was this morning. How you brought me coffee. How you kissed my forehead like we've known each other for years instead of days."

Jamie’s face softens. The tension in his shoulders eases, and something warmer moves in to take its place.

"I'm scared," I admit quietly. "Because the last three days have been the best I can remember since I was nine years old. And Jamie… I don't know what to do with that."

He doesn’t rush in with solutions or platitudes. He just looks at me and listens.

"What are you scared of exactly?" he asks, voice gentle.

"That I'm going to want to stay," I whisper. "That I'm going to want this life more than the life I spent fifteen years building. That I'm going to fall for you so hard it changes everything."

I pick at the fraying edge of my sleeve, avoiding his gaze. Jamie's quiet for a long moment, and I can see him processing what I've said.

"Would that be so terrible?" he asks finally. "Wanting to stay?"

I look at him, this man who just barged into my cabin with soup, painkillers, and a lavender heating pad like it was his job to fix me, and the answer is too obvious to ignore.

“No,” I whisper. “That’s the part that scares me.”

He reaches out, his big hand cupping my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin with devastating gentleness.

"Your head still hurt?" he asks.

"A little."

"Come here."

He shifts on the couch, making space, and I curl into his side without hesitation. He's warm and solid, and when his arm comes around me, something inside my chest finally unclenches.

"Better?" he murmurs against my hair.

"Much."

We sit like that for a few minutes, the jazz still playing softly from my phone, the peppermint oil making the air clean and peaceful. I can feel Jamie's chest rising and falling beneath my cheek.

"Wanna know something that will make you laugh?" he asks out of nowhere.

"Always."

"I called you my girlfriend today," he says suddenly.

I tilt my head to look at him. "You did?"

His ears turn red, which is absolutely adorable. "Accidentally. To Chase. When I thought he was..." He shakes his head. "Actually, it doesn't matter what I thought. Point is, the word came out before I could stop it."

"And how do you feel about that?" I ask, trying not to smile at his adorable embarrassment.

"Terrified," he admits. "And right. Mostly right."

I shift so I can see his face better. "So what does that make me? Your girlfriend who thinks you're too grumpy to marry?"

He groans, dropping his head back against the couch cushions. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Absolutely not."

"For the record," he says, looking at me seriously, "I'm not too grumpy. I'm selectively social."