Page 46 of Sweet Doe
She exhales hard, then raises the axe over her shoulder and brings it down in a crooked arc. The blade glances off the edge of the log and bounces, barely making a dent.
I wince. “That was... ambitious.”
She huffs and glares at the log like it personally insulted her. “Your wood sucks.”
“You’re gonna bruise if you keep manhandling my wood like that.”
She turns and gives me a look that’s half amused, half exasperated. “You’re the worst.”
“Maybe, but I think you kinda like it.”
She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she nudges her face against the scarf I wrapped around her neck this morning, eyes half-lidded, lips parted with cold.
“Again?” she asks.
I step back to give her room, adjusting the log for a cleaner cut. She sets her stance again, biting her bottom lip, tongue flicking out briefly as she concentrates. Her arms lift, tight with tension, and this time the axe sinks halfway through with a satisfying crunch. She gasps like she surprised herself.
“Hell yes,” I say.
She spins to face me, face flushed with pride, breath fogging between us. “Did you see that?”
“Really? I thought you knew by now that when it comes to you, baby, I see everything.” I reach for her, hand grazing the curve of her waist through the coat. “You looked good doing it, too.”
She laughs again, eyes lighting. And for a moment, there’s nothing else in the world but her face, her breath, the way her smile slowly curls, full of trouble and fire.
This is what I always wanted.
Not a clean slate. Not a second chance. Just this.Her. A reason to come back from the dark every time it starts to pull. A voice in the quiet. A body beside mine. Something real enough to hold onto. She chops a few more pieces, each swing a little better than the last, and I start stacking them off to the side. My fingers are numb and my legs ache from the cold, but I don’t care.
Because she’s still swinging, and for once, she’s laughing. Genuinely fucking laughing.
When she finally drops the axe, arms limp, she staggers toward me like a drunk and lets herself collapse into my side. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head.
“Okay,” she pants. “I’m never doing that again.”
“You say that now. But it’s not so bad actually. Helps when you’re angry, or frustrated.” I grin and brush snow off her shoulder. “You did good though for your first time. Better than I expected, honestly.”
“Gee, thanks. High praise from the mountain psycho.”
I lean closer, lips brushing her ear. “Say that again when I have you bent over the chopping block later.”
She makes a wounded noise. “You’re insufferable.”
“You’re turned on.”
She groans. “God help me.”
We head back toward the cabin, boots crunching through the snow, smoke curling from the chimney. Everything around us feels like it was carved out of a dream. Untouched. Ours. When I open the door, warmth floods around us. She peels off her gloves and coat, letting them fall in a heap. Her cheeks are still flushed. Her nose red, but fuck does she look like she belongs here. Like I imagined her long before she ever walked into my life.Or was dragged,I guess.
I unload the wood by the hearth while she fills the kettle. Her fingers shake a little as she lights the stove, but she doesn’t ask for help. I watch her move, small and steady. It hits me differently now. I’ve always known her—long before she ever stepped foot inside this cabin. I knew the way she took her tea, the titles of the books she read when she couldn’t sleep, the shape of her silhouette when she thought no one was watching. I memorized the curve of her smile from across crowded rooms. Traced her life through shadows and screen light. I knew her laugh before I ever earned it. Knew her tears before I ever dried them.
But now, I know what it feels like todeserveit.
To have her hand brush mine without flinching. To watch her move through a space that was once only mine and see the pieces of her woven into everything.
She brings me my mug, fingers brushing mine. I take it without looking away from her. Not because I’m still trying to figure her out—but because for the first time, she’s letting me in on what I already knew. Letting me hold and keep it.
Letting mehaveher.
