Page 42 of Saved By The King's Gamma

“You’ll see. Just get dressed. It’s worth the hike, I promise,” he says with a small smile, finally lifting his gaze to meet mine.

I hesitate for a moment, still trying to process the fact that it’s morning and he’s already up and ready to go. But something in his expression—something warm and reassuring—makes me nod. I slip out of bed, the cold floor beneath my feet making me shiver, and quickly pull on a pair of thick pants, a sweater, and my boots. By the time I’m dressed, Gannon is already in the kitchen, cooking something.

“Come sit,” he says, motioning toward the table as he flips something in a pan. The smell of eggs and toast fills the air, and my stomach rumbles in response.

He places a plate in front of me, and I silently eat wondering where he wants to go so early in the morning. Gannon watches me for a moment, a faint smile playing on his lips as he sips his coffee.

“You’re eating better,” he notes after a moment. I glance up at him, unsure how to respond, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he stands, rinses his mug in the sink, and grabs his jacket.

“Ready?” he asks, his eyes gleaming with something I can’t quite place—anticipation, maybe?

I nod, swallowing the last bite of toast and wiping my hands on a napkin. He hands me my jacket, and once I have it on, we step out into the crisp morning air. The sky is a pale gray, and the scent of damp earth fills my lungs as we walk into the woods.

Water laps gently around us, steam rising in soft tendrils into the crisp morning air. Gannon holds me close, his strong arms cradling my body like I’m something fragile, something precious. I try not to think about how good it feels to be in his arms, how comforting it is to rest against his chest and hear the steady beat of his heart. He’s so steady, so solid — everything I’m not.

For a while, neither of us speak. The quiet between us feels heavy, but not uncomfortable. It’s like he knows I need this silence, like he knows words won’t fix the storm raging inside me. Yet, even without words, his presence somehow makes the chaos feel less overwhelming.

I glance up at him, noticing how the morning light makes the water shimmer against his skin. Droplets cling to his dark hair, and his gaze is fixed on the horizon, thoughtful, calm. He looks so at ease, so sure of himself, and I can’t help but wonder how he does it—how he carries so much without breaking.

“Have you been here before?” I ask softly, breaking the silence. He chuckles.

“Of course, I wouldn’t know it was here otherwise,” he laughs. He watches me for a second but then seems to get what I mean.

“You’re wondering if I’ve come here with anyone else?”

I nod, feeling like an idiot for asking. He sighs heavily. “Would you be upset if I had?” he asks, and I shrug. But he still answers the question.

“Did you bring girls to magical hot springs?”

He chuckles, the deep sound vibrating through his chest, and it makes me smile despite myself. “No, unless you count Liam,” he says, glancing down at me with a teasing grin. “I’ve never brought girls here. Just you. You’re special.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “You’re terrible at lying.”

“I’m not lying,” he murmurs, his voice growing softer, more serious. “You are special, Abbie. You just don’t see it yet.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I’m not special, that I’m nothing more than a shattered mess barely holding myself together. But something about the way he looks at me makes the words die on my tongue. He looks at me like he means it, like he truly believes every word he’s saying.

A strange warmth blooms in my chest. I drop my gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the intensity of his stare.

“You really believe that?” I whisper, my fingers playing with the edge of his shoulder where the water meets his skin.

“More than my life,” he answers quietly, and there’s no hesitation in his voice. No doubt. Just pure, unwavering certainty.

The familiar phrase makes my heart clench. “More than my life.” Those were the words Azalea and I used to say to each other when we were kids, words that meant everything when we had nothing. Hearing Gannon say them now, with such conviction, feels like a lifeline, like he’s offering me something to hold on to when I feel like giving up.

“I can’t believe you thought I had time for girls; and have the audacity to be jealous when you won’t even let me have you,” he chuckles and I freeze. “Not like that, Abbie. Don’t take my words wrong.”

“I’m not jealous I was just curious,” I tell him.

“Why, though?” he asks. My eyes go to his chest, and he sighs heavily. I know now those were self-inflicted and to try to rip out your own heart means it was broken.

“I’ve only been here with Liam. I swear. I also haven’t been with another woman in twenty years. One, I work too much, second, I didn’t want one…”

I lift my eyes back to his, and for a moment, we just stare at each other. “Until you,” he tells me. His gaze flicks down to my lips briefly, and my heart skips a beat. The air between us shifts, growing heavier, more charged.

“Gannon…” I whisper, unsure of what I’m even trying to say.

“I won’t push you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll wait as long as it takes, Abbie. You don’t owe me anything. But… if you ever want me, you don’t have to be afraid.”

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