Page 96 of Until You Say Stay
She’s biting her lip, trying not to smile, and I know I’ve almost got her. “This is crazy.”
“Yeah,” I agree, taking her hands. “But you were just in an incredible meeting yesterday. You’ve got a big decision to make. And we’re actually dating now, not just pretending. And everyone back home thinks we’re fake anyway, so we might as well go somewhere we can actually be ourselves without performing for anyone. Let’s go be crazy together.”
She studies my face for a long moment.
“Okay,” she says, and her smile breaks wide and genuine. “Let’s do it. Let’s go be crazy together.”
And just like that, we’re going on an adventure.
CHAPTER 23
LARK
The cabin is tucked away down a private road that winds through towering pine trees, their branches heavy with snow even though it’s late August. Jack navigates the rental SUV carefully around the final curve, and then the cabin comes into view. “Holy shit.”
“Worth the spontaneous booking?” Jack asks, glancing over at me.
“Jack, this is bonkers.” I lean forward to see better through the windshield. “You said cabin. This is not a cabin. This is like a luxury mountain estate situation.”
He laughs. “My friend owns a few properties up here. I stayed at one years ago but never this specific one. Photos looked good though.”
“Photos didnotdo it justice,” I tell him, still staring. The place is a mix of warm wood and stone, with massive windows that seem to take up entire walls. Mountains rise up behind it, their peaks still white with snow against the evening sky, and the whole thing looks like something out of a magazine spread about how rich people vacation.
We’d grabbed lunch in the town of Banff after landing in Calgary, burgers at this place called Melissa’s that Jack swore by, and the whole drive up into the alpine I kept checking my phone. People are still losing their minds about whether we’re real or fake, dissecting every photo, building elaborate conspiracy theories.
Maren had texted a few times, checking in about LA and the tabloid explosion. Jack’s phone kept buzzing too, his brothers wanting to know what the hell was going on with the rumors. He’d sent them a quick message saying he’d explain everything later, that it was complicated but we were fine. But being here, tucked away in the mountains with Jack, all of that already feels distant.
We grab our bags and crunch through the thin layer of snow to the front door. The air is cold and clean, completely different from the LA heat we left behind this morning. Jack punches in a code and pushes the door open, and I stop in the doorway because what the hell.
“Okay, now you’re just showing off,” I tell him.
Soaring ceilings with exposed wooden beams. A massive stone fireplace taking up an entire wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing that ridiculous mountain view. The furniture is a mix of buttery leather and plush fabrics, fur throws draped over chairs, and warm lighting that makes everything feel expensive and inviting at the same time.
“Is this too much?” Jack asks. “Cause you know, if you want to head back to Dark River tonight I can just?—”
“Don’t you dare.” I set my bag down and walk straight to the massive windows. The mountains are going purple and gold as the sun sets behind them, stars just starting to appear. “This is perfect. Completely nuts and perfect.”
He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. “Good. Because we’re not leaving until we’re ready to face the world again.”
“Dangerous promise,” I say, leaning back against him. “Might be a while.”
“I’m counting on it,” he murmurs against my neck, and I smile.
The rest of the place is just as ridiculous. The kitchen has marble countertops and fancy appliances. The main living area has leather couches arranged around the stone fireplace, a full bar setup in one corner, and a pool table with pristine green felt. It’s the kind of space that belongs in a magazine spread about luxury mountain living.
Upstairs there’s a loft area with built-in bookshelves and reading chairs that look perfect for curling up in. And the master suite has this enormous bed with bedding that looks criminally soft, yet another fireplace, and windows that frame the mountain view perfectly.
“I’m never leaving this room,” I announce, flopping dramatically onto the bed. It’s even softer than it looks.
“Works for me,” Jack says, and pulls me up into a kiss that makes my toes curl and my brain forget how to function properly.
After unpacking, we both shower, the hot water washing away all the travel grime. Jack finishes first and heads downstairs while I blow-dry my hair. The last few weeks with Jack have been better than I ever could have imagined. We fit together in a way that still surprises me sometimes.
After Brandon, part of me wondered if I’d ever have something like this again. If I’d ever be able to trust someone enough to let them all the way in, or if those walls I’d built would be permanent. But Jack has this way of slipping pastevery defense I’ve ever constructed. He’s bright and warm and somehow he makes me feel safer than I’ve ever felt with anyone.
I change into leggings and an oversized sweater and head back downstairs. Jack’s already there, a fire crackling in that massive fireplace, two glasses of red wine poured and waiting.
“Look at you being all domestic,” I tease, accepting the glass he offers.
