Under the Northern Lights(39)
His face scrunched as he stared at me. “I did . . . I do . . . want . . .”
Something changed in his eyes, like a decision had been made. Then before I knew what was happening, his lips were again lowering to mine. They didn’t deviate at the last minute this time, and we connected just seconds later. His lips were so soft, so gentle, but full of so much restrained passion too. I just wanted him to lose control, wanted him to let down every wall he’d erected around himself, and let me in. I just . . . wanted him.
As our mouths moved together, as his beard lightly tickled my face, I changed my earlier thought—now, this moment could last forever, and I’d be happy. There was just something about Michael that spoke to me—his courage, his independence, his thoughtful nature, the pain he tried to hide. This was a person I could see having a future with . . . if our circumstances were different. But as of right now, it seemed impossible. He was staying. I was leaving.
I shoved that thought aside as our light, tender kisses slowly began turning to something more . . . passionate, and I felt myself getting caught up in the bliss—mindless, unworried, and untroubled. Michael’s free hand ran around my waist, pulling me in tight, and my free hand curled around his neck. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, what could happen between us that wouldn’t scar us both, but at the moment, I didn’t care about the approaching pain. I never wanted this moment to end.
But of course, it had to. If we stayed out here, we’d eventually freeze solid. We needed the comfort and warmth of the cabin enveloping us. Weighing the pros and cons of breaking this magical moment with Michael, I pulled away far enough to ask him, “Want to go inside?” My breath was fast; my smile was huge . . . but Michael’s expression instantly changed.
Once realization of his lapse in judgment hit him, he took a step back, releasing me. I could almost see him shutting down, and pain pierced my chest as I watched the walls reforming. “Michael, don’t . . . it’s okay,” I said, trying to be encouraging. It was more than okay. It was . . . amazing. Possibly the best kiss I’d ever had. One I wanted to have again, even if it was a bad idea, even if we weren’t going to last long. Couldn’t we have that bliss for the brief time we were slated to be together?
Michael seemed to feel that it wasn’t worth the risk. “No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have . . . we can’t . . .”
Stepping forward, I grabbed his hands. “We can. We’re adults. We both know the situation. I know you’re trying to protect me . . . like you always do . . . and I adore you for that, but there’s no need to protect me from this. I accept it’s short term, and I’d rather have a brief time with you than—”
Looking at me with sad eyes, Michael interrupted my declaration. “No . . . I can’t. I can’t give you my heart when I don’t have one. And I can’t let you give me yours. I won’t break your heart, Mallory. I just won’t. That shouldn’t have happened, and nothing like it will happen again. You have my word.”
He turned and left me, and I stared at the spot where he’d been standing, gaping like an idiot while the northern lights above me faded into nothingness.
Chapter Fourteen
The air was thick with tension when I returned to the cabin. Michael ignored me as he got ready for bed, although he did it in such a way that it wasn’t obviously apparent that he was ignoring me. He just seemed preoccupied with his tasks. Finishing quickly, he climbed into his bed and rolled over so his back was facing me.
It killed me to see the disconnect, especially since the feel of his lips was still burned into my brain. I wanted to go over to him, put a hand on his shoulder, roll him my way, and beg him to talk to me. He did have a heart; I know he did. He was just trying to protect me—or himself, since we both knew this was temporary. And while a part of me agreed with his decision, the rest of me knew I couldn’t spend months here with him . . . and not fall in love with him. I was doomed either way, so couldn’t we at least be happy before the pain set in?
As I climbed into my own bed—comfortable now, since Michael’s thoughtful gift—I wondered what things in the cabin might be like after this. It was such a small space that it was impossible to avoid each other. Even if he left all day to go trapping, he had to return when it got dark, and the nights were long here. We had endless hours of uncomfortable awkwardness ahead of us, unless I could somehow convince him to give us a chance. To give me a chance.
Waking up the next morning didn’t bring me any insight on how to do that, especially when I looked over and saw that Michael had sneaked out while I’d been sleeping. We usually spent time together in the mornings, having something to eat and making small talk before heading out to do our chores for the day. It hurt that he’d disrupted that pattern because of what had happened last night . . . because of that kiss. The memory of that kiss that still made my toes curl . . .
Thinking of that moment as I began my chores made sadness well up inside me. Michael’s words before the kiss, the look in his eyes when he’d been debating whether to change our relationship. The fateful moment when he’d finally said Screw it in his mind and taken a chance. Emotion had been thick in the air between us, so him telling me that he didn’t have a heart—that he’d felt nothing—was complete and total bullshit. He’d felt something for me; that was why it had been so hard for him. But then he’d chickened out and given me an excuse so he could back off with a clear conscience. And the more I thought about that, the angrier I became.