Page 51 of Rise
He nodded once, already shifting his weight like the decision had been made long before he spoke it aloud. “Just the porch,” he clarified. “If it’s not stable, you shouldn’t stay here tonight.”
The words should’ve made sense. They were practical, reasonable. And rationally, she knew that Beck wasn’t wrong— if the deck was compromised, if the structure had been weakened by the tree, it wasn’t safe.
But logic didn’t soften the sudden twinge of doubt that bloomed in her chest.
Something in her clenched and her throat tightened. Her fingers curled around the edge of the cushion beneath her. And before she could stop herself, the words slipped free— too fast, too raw.
“Beck, please…”
He paused, mid-step, his body angled toward the front door but not yet moving.
Hazel’s breath caught in her chest. She hadn’t meant for it to sound likethat—so desperate, so small, like something afraid. But it was too late to pull it back now.
“The wind’s still bad,” she said, her voice quieter this time, but no steadier. “You don’t know what’s out there. The trees… the lines. Everything’s still shifting. Something could happen.”
It wasn’t panic, not exactly, but it was something close to it. That coiled, wary kind of fear that lived in the body long after the danger had passed.
She didn’t want him out there, didn’t want him to walk back into the storm— into the dark and the wet and the unknown— just to check if somethingmightgo wrong. Didn’t want him putting himself at risk,again,for her.
Beck turned to look at her fully. His expression didn’t flicker, not in any overt way, but something in his dark eyes softened, just a fraction. Like he’d caught what she wasn’t saying, tucked into the spaces between her words.
“I’ll be careful,” he said, voice soft. His eyes held hers, gentle and reassuring.
And he meant it, of course he did.
But he was still moving, still turning, still walking away.
And Hazel— without thinking, without planning— reached out and caught his hand.
Her fingers wrapped around his, not tight, but just enough to stop him. Enough toask him, without asking, not to go. Not yet.
His hand stilled in hers, warm and rough and grounding. He turned back again, slower this time, eyes catching hers with that same unflinching focus he always seemed to carry, like nothing outside that moment existed. Likeshewas the only thing in the room.
Hazel swallowed hard, her pulse roaring in her ears. She could feel the words building in her chest, pressing against her ribs like they needed out. She wasn’t good at this— wasn’t used to needing people, or naming what she felt before it could twist into shame.
It made her feel sick, like something poisonous had curled up inside her and taken root.
But he was standing there, solid and still and waiting. And something in her unraveled as a result.
“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me,” she said, the words barely more than a whisper, but they carried weight. Not just because she meant them… but because of what they cost her to say.
Beck didn’t flinch. He didn’t smile, didn’t joke, didn’t deflect with the kind of easy charm other people used when they didn’t know how to hold something that mattered. He just looked at her. Reallylooked.And for a moment, she thought he might say nothing at all.
Then he nodded, slow and deliberate, like it was more for her than him. His fingers tightened around hers briefly, not enough to hurt, just enough to say:I heard you.
“I’m gonna be just fine,” he murmured. “I promise.”
But he didn’t say it like a promise, he said it like a truth he carried with him— quiet and constant and already proven.
Then his hand slipped from hers, fingertips trailing against her palm for a beat longer than necessary.
Hazel let him go, but her eyes didn’t leave him.
She watched the line of his shoulders as he crossed the room, first to the back door to pick up his boots, and then to the front. He braced a hand against the wall as he reached the door, sliding the boots onto his feet.
He didn’t turn back right away, but just before he stepped outside, just as the door opened and wind shoved hard against the frame, the cold spilling into the warm pocket of the house, he glanced back.
Only once, but it was enough.
