Marybeth
I woke to warmth. Not heat. Not the violent fever that had consumed the cabin the night before. Just warmth. A jacket draped over me. A dying fire crackling softly nearby. And Rowan. The memory returned instantly.
His hands in my hair. His mouth against mine. The way I had kissed him back like seven years had never happened. My stomach twisted sharply. I sat up too quickly, the blanket slipping from my lap as panic rushed through me all over again.
“You’re awake.” Rowan looked up immediately from where he sat near the fireplace. His voice was rough with exhaustion. Gentle. That made it worse somehow. I looked away immediately. Because if I looked at him too long, I would remember everything too clearly.
The desperate way we had clung to each other. The way he had held me aga
