Chapter Six - Silent Night, Unsteady Hearts
1026 Words
That night, sleep was a distant, unreachable thing for both of them.
The cabin settled into its late-hour quiet, the wind outside rattled the bare branches against the windows, and somewhere in the distance, snow continued to fall, soft, relentless, sealing them in together whether they liked it or not.
Michelle lay on her side in the guest bed, staring at the ceiling.
The room was dark now, save for the faint glow of fairy lights along the dresser. She hadn’t turned them off. Complete darkness felt like too much tonight, like it would give her memories too much room to breathe.
Her body was still warm from the shower, but she felt cold anyway.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it again.
Steam.
Jeremiah’s face.
Staring at her with desire.
That moment, time fractured, and ten years collapsed into a single breath.
She squeezed her eyes shut harder, willing the image away.
Idiot, she scolded herself. It was an accident. Nothing more.
And yet her pulse betrayed her, thudding too fast, too loud. Her mind replayed the way he had looked at her, unable to tear his eyes away. The way his voice had sounded when he said her name, like it still belonged to him.
Michelle rolled onto her back and dragged a hand down her face.
Why did it still affect her?
Ten years ago, she had sworn she would never let Jeremiah Carter have this power over her again.
And yet here she was, trapped in a snowed-in cabin, wrapped in his robe, her heart racing like she was twenty-two again and foolish enough to believe in true love.
Her gaze drifted to the door.
Beyond it, somewhere down the hallway, Jeremiah was awake too. She could feel it, the same way she used to sense him stirring beside her in the dark before he ever touched her.
The memory hit her without warning.
A younger Jeremiah, laughing softly as he pulled her closer, whispering about futures that felt endless then. About staying. About building something together.
About love.
Her throat tightened.
“Liar,” she whispered into the quiet room.
She turned onto her side again, curling in on herself, clutching the edge of the blanket like an anchor. She told herself to think of Paris instead. If she got the job, her dreams and plans for the future would align.
Paris promised stability. Safety.
Michelle just needed to survive one night.
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Across the cabin, Jeremiah lay flat on his back in his bed, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other clenched tightly around the edge of the mattress.
Sleep refused him just as cruelly.
The house was too quiet. His thoughts were too loud.
He stared up at the wooden ceiling, staring blankly at it. Every time his mind drifted, it drifted straight back to the bathroom.
To steam.
To skin.
To Michelle.
He swore under his breath and turned onto his side, facing the wall.
He shouldn’t have stared.
He knew that.
But shock had rooted him in place, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of her. Real, raw, and right here. Not a memory or a regret. For ten years, Michelle had lived safely in the past, softened by distance and time. Tonight, she had stepped back into his life with sharp edges intact.
Angrier. Stronger. Still devastatingly beautiful.
The slap replayed in his mind, the sharp c***k echoing louder now in memory than it had in the moment. He didn’t blame her for it. If anything, he deserved worse.
Ten years.
Ten years of pretending he hadn’t lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.
He rolled onto his back again and scrubbed a hand down his face.
He hadn’t meant what he’d said, not the way it had come out. Of course he knew ten years mattered. Of course he knew she wasn’t the same woman she had been then.
Neither was he.
Back then, he’d believed he and Michelle would have a future together.
He had believed they would be together forever.
He had been wrong.
His chest tightened as another memory surfaced, unwanted but persistent.
Michelle standing at his dorm room door, eyes wide opened with shock and betrayal as she stared at him naked on the bed with Solange.
He hated the fact that she never gave him a chance to explain.
She just cut him off. Completely. Totally.
Michelle never looked back.
Jeremiah turned his head toward the hallway, toward the guest room.
She was here now.
Stuck by weather. By circumstance. By fate, if he believed in things like that.
The thought made his chest ache.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe evenly.
Control your emotions, he reminded himself again.
She didn’t belong to him anymore.
The hours crept by, slow and merciless.
Michelle drifted in and out of shallow sleep, haunted by half-formed dreams that blended past and present.
She woke with a start just after midnight, heart pounding, the echo of his name on her lips.
She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest.
This was ridiculous.
She hadn’t come all this way to unravel over one night. She had a life. A career. Independence she’d fought hard for. Jeremiah was just… history.
So why did it feel like the universe was daring her to confront everything she’d buried?
Down the hall, Jeremiah rose from his bed quietly, restless energy driving him to pace. He stopped by the window, peering out into the darkness. Snow blanketed everything, the world reduced to silence and white.
No escape tonight.
He exhaled slowly and turned, only to freeze.
Michelle’s bedroom door stood slightly ajar.
A thin line of light spilled into the hallway.
She was awake too.
Jeremiah took one step forward.
Then another.
Inside the guest room, Michelle heard footsteps.
Her heart stuttered.
She knew those steps. Had known them once better than her own.
She stared at the door, pulse racing, every instinct screaming for her to either lock it, or open it.
The footsteps stopped just outside.
Silence stretched, heavy and electric.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them spoke.
- Writer
