Page 29 of Rescued In The Storm

"Three days later?" I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed despite being the one who sought this confrontation. "You kissed me, Connor. Then you disappeared. So tell me—was it just pity?"

"What? No." He looks genuinely shocked by the suggestion. "Sarah, that's not?—"

"Then what was it?" I press, needing to hear him say it, whatever 'it' is. "Some kind of obligation? A moment of weakness? Because if that kiss meant nothing to you, I need to know."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've seen a hundred times over the years. "It wasn't nothing," he says finally. "It was—" He stops, seeming to struggle with the words, a hesitation that stretches between us like a chasm.

And that moment of hesitation is all I need.

All the confirmation I never wanted. If he had to think about it, search for the right words, then whatever that kiss meant to him, it wasn't what it meant to me. It wasn't everything.

"Never mind," I say, my voice steadier than I feel as the last fragile hope crumbles inside me. "I got my answer."

"Sarah, wait?—"

But I'm already turning away, unable to bear the pity I imagine in his eyes. Three quick steps and I'm moving down the path toward the parking lot, my vision blurring as tears threaten.

I will not cry in front of him. I've given Connor Callahan enough of myself already—my mornings, my thoughts, my heart. He doesn't get my tears too.

"That's not what I—" His voice follows me, but I don't slow down.

* * *

Gravel crunches under my feet as I quicken my pace. The lodge's main building looms ahead, guests still lingering on the porch, oblivious to the small drama unfolding. I'll have to walk past them to reach my car. Perfect. Nothing like an audience for the final act of my humiliation.

I'm halfway across the open area when I hear rapid footsteps behind me.

"Sarah!"

I don't turn around. I can't bear to see the pity in his eyes, or worse, the relief that I'm walking away.

"Sarah, please." His voice is closer now, urgent. "Would you just?—"

"What?" I spin around, the word coming out sharper than I intended. "What more is there to say, Connor?"

I regret turning immediately. Because now I have to look at him—his flushed face, his concerned eyes, his damp hair curling slightly at the temples. Even now, even hurting, I notice these things. I hate that I notice.

But something's different. The hesitation from moments ago is gone, replaced by a determination that stops me in my tracks.

We're standing in front of the main lodge now, I realize belatedly. The morning crowd has gathered on the wide porch—guests with their coffee cups, staff preparing for the day. And the Callahans. I spot Liam near the entrance, Declan leaning against a post, Evie watching from the top step with undisguised interest.

Great. An audience for whatever gentle letdown Connor has planned.

"I need to go," I mutter, turning again.

"I love you, Sarah Miller."

The words stop me as effectively as a physical barrier. For a moment, I'm certain I've misheard. I turn slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"What did you say?" My voice is barely audible.

Connor stands a few feet away, his hands open at his sides, looking more vulnerable than I've ever seen him. And more certain.

"I love you," he repeats, louder this time. Someone on the porch gasps softly. "I think I have for years. I just didn't know how to see it."

The world narrows to just his face, his eyes, his words. The audience fades away.

"But you hesitated," I say, the hurt still raw. "When I brought up the kiss, you hesitated."

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