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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]The warmth of the shower had barely faded from his skin before Kacper turned his attention toward the kitchen, sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms as he surveyed the space with quiet intent. The ribs were already working on the grill outside, their slow scent drifting in each time the porch door shifted on its hinges, but that alone felt insufficient. He moved through the small kitchen with deliberate efficiency, pulling ingredients from the fridge and placing them in neat rows along the counter before beginning. Romaine was chopped into clean, uniform strips, croutons were measured rather than poured, and parmesan was shaved into thin curls that he arranged with unnecessary precision. Caesar dressing followed in a careful drizzle, pepperoncini sliced and placed in a small bowl off to the side like an afterthought that had still been meticulously considered.

The potato salad came together quicker, boiled cubes folded into a simple mixture, stirred until the texture felt right beneath the spoon, but even then he paused to smooth the surface flat before transferring it into a serving bowl. Everything was placed in order along the counter; salad to the left, potato salad beside it, cutlery aligned parallel to the edge, plates stacked with mathematical symmetry. He stepped back, head tilting slightly as he adjusted the placement of the pepperoncini dish by an inch. Behind him, Onyx watched from atop the couch with lazy approval, while Opal padded across the floor, pausing to investigate each new scent with delicate curiosity.

He moved next to the corner where he had set out bowls earlier, two small ceramic ones for the cats and a larger stainless one he’d added almost absentmindedly for Rocco. The water dish was filled last, set down so its surface remained perfectly still. Opal circled his ankles once before settling near her bowl, tail flicking in mild impatience, while Onyx stretched and leapt down to join her with a soundless grace. The soft rhythm of their movement grounded the quiet hum of the cabin, turning preparation into something almost domestic.

With everything inside arranged, Kacper wiped his hands on a cloth and headed toward the porch, already reaching for the bottle of BBQ sauce to finish the ribs. The door swung open—and instead of the expected empty threshold and winter air, he found Sloane standing there, basket in hand, framed by the cold.

He blinked once, surprise flickering across his features before smoothing into something warmer, easier. [color=54998e]“Hey,”[/color] he said, voice softer when he realized what she was doing. His gaze flicked briefly to the basket before returning to her face, brows knitting just slightly at the way she lingered there. [color=54998e]“You beat Kat here.”[/color] The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile as he stepped aside, the warmth of the cabin spilling outward like an invitation. [color=54998e]“Why are you standing in the cold?”[/color]

Steam from the grill curled behind her, carrying the promise of food and warmth into the sharp air between them, while somewhere inside Opal meowed curiously at the new presence beyond the door.

Well, if Sloane was attempting to make a stealthy getaway, she took too long. Somewhere in the middle of her internal debate and her own physical struggle with lifting the basket, the door opened and she was met with Kacper. She gasped quietly and her eyes went wide from his sudden appearance. It was his porch, she should have expected it. Yet, she was left standing there like a stunned idiot, cheeks nearly as red as her sweater as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her gaze trailed from his surprisingly warm expression, to the bottle of barbecue sauce in his hand, and then to the grill nearby on the deck that she had completely missed. [color=c7b29b]"Of course,"[/color] she muttered under her breath as her attention fell to the basket clutched tightly in her cold pale hands. [color=c7b29b]"You have food."[/color] She sighed softly, tapping her thumbs against the wooden handle.

[color=c7b29b]"I uh…"[/color] She looked back up, gaze flitting back and forth between his eyes as she tried to think up a suitable response and fell short. Sloane shifted the basket to one hand with a quiet grunt so the other was free to nervously brush wind-blown hair behind her ear. [color=c7b29b]"I’m… not good at lying,"[/color] she confessed barely above a whisper, her expression deflated as her shoulders sagged slightly. Rather than skirt around it—because she could see it plain as day across his face, even if he didn’t say it—she was honest and admitted it outright. [color=c7b29b]"I was leaving."[/color]

Sloane couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Accepting that she was caught and couldn’t very well leave now, she stepped in through the door as Kacper stood there expectantly still holding it open. She set the basket down on the ground momentarily then motioned for Rocco to follow her in and sit on the doormat. The puppy heeded her instruction with a small whine that said he’d much rather jump on the unfamiliar person or aggressively sniff the white kitten he clocked on the other side of the room. [color=c7b29b]"I know. But I have to get the snow off your paws first,"[/color] she spoke to him softly with a gentleness reserved only for animals as she crouched down in front of him. She slipped her bag off of her back and pulled out the towel she had packed. She took her time doing her best to remove what she could so he didn’t trail wet pawprints halfway around Kacper’s cabin. 

[color=c7b29b]"Go on."[/color] She motioned that Rocco was free to go and he didn’t waste a single moment. The excited pup ran over to the small ball of white fur, stopping just shy of toppling it so he could sniff it aggressively before playfully dipping his front half and wagging his tail enthusiastically. Meanwhile Sloane took her time removing her snow-caked boots one at a time and set them down beside the entrance. She scooped back up her bag in one hand and the basket in the other, then took about two steps further into his cabin and stopped. Deep down she knew he’d likely want her to make herself comfortable, but comfort was also the farthest thing from her mind. She was just trying to get past her mortifying embarrassment and second guessing her decision to enter in the first place.

Kacper’s eyebrows climbed almost imperceptibly when Sloane admitted she had been leaving. The surprise wasn’t theatrical or exaggerated, it was the quiet kind that lingered behind his eyes as if he were turning the words over in his head, trying to see where they fit. For a moment he didn’t say anything at all. He simply watched as she crouched to dry the snow from Rocco’s paws, the small ritual unfolding with a tenderness that felt oddly intimate in the warm quiet of the cabin. His gaze softened slightly, thoughtful, while somewhere behind him Opal leaned back a fraction at the sudden arrival of the large, enthusiastic dog, her tail flicking in short, uncertain arcs before curiosity won out and she leaned forward to sniff him delicately once he’d scampered over.

Rocco’s playful bow startled a low, delighted purr out of the white cat, loud enough that Kacper heard it clearly from across the room. Onyx, not to be outdone, slipped down from his perch near the hearth and padded over with regal interest, tail held high like a banner. Kacper finally stirred from his silent observation, stepping forward with an easy movement and gently lifting the basket from Sloane’s hands before she could protest. [color=54998e]“You know,”[/color] he said, tone careful but casual, as though offering her an escape route he fully expected her to take. [color=54998e]“If you don’t want to… it’s okay. I won’t be offended or anything. It’s been a long day.”[/color]

[color=c7b29b]"I…"[/color] Sloane tried to argue and keep ahold of the basket, but she was tired, he was stronger, and even in her stubbornness, she appreciated the quiet chivalry. [color=c7b29b]"Thank you,"[/color] she whispered as a grateful—albeit still very embarrassed—smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She lingered in the middle of the cabin for a second or two longer before conceding with a weary sigh as she started unbuttoning her coat. The dark wool slipped down her arms revealing her fuzzy burgundy sweater that was neatly tucked into a matching floral skirt. She gathered the jacket in her hands and hung it on a hook beside the door, along with her scarf. 

Kacper had just reached the counter with the basket when the quiet sound of buttons slipping free caught his attention. It wasn’t loud, barely more than the soft shift of fabric, but in the calm warmth of the cabin it carried easily. His hands paused around the handle as he glanced over his shoulder, and for a moment he forgot entirely about the basket he was holding. Sloane had shrugged off her coat, the dark wool sliding down her arms before she hung it neatly beside the door, and the firelight seemed to catch the color of her sweater in a way that made it richer somehow. The burgundy knit was soft and textured, the shade deep against her skin, and the small white ruffle at the collar gave it a delicate edge that felt almost out of place in a place like camp, like something from another life entirely.

His gaze drifted lower before he could stop it. The floral skirt she wore carried those same warm tones, deep reds, muted rusts, hints of autumn petals scattered across dark fabric, and it fit close at the waist before ending far shorter than he expected. The sheer tights clung to the shape of her legs, catching the firelight in faint shadows that traced the line down to her feet. Something in his chest lurched unexpectedly, his pulse knocking harder against his ribs like it had just been startled awake. It was ridiculous, he told himself immediately, dragging his gaze back toward the counter as if the wooden surface had suddenly become very interesting.

He cleared his throat under his breath and turned away entirely, setting the basket down with deliberate care. The small movement grounded him again, giving his restless hands something to do while he forced his thoughts back into order, surprise flickering across his face at the neatly packed contents. For a brief second his expression tightened with something like concern. [color=54998e]“I’m sorry,”[/color] he added, glancing back toward her with a small, almost sheepish frown. [color=54998e]“I didn’t realize you planned to bring food too. I… was trying to be nice.”[/color] One shoulder lifted in a quick, self-conscious shrug, the kind that tried to brush off effort before anyone could examine it too closely.

Her bare, stocking wrapped feet softly thumped across the wooden floor as she slowly approached the opposite side of the kitchen counter. Sloane’s eyes rose from where they had been staring at the knotted wicker of the basket to meet his gaze. His apology hit first, but it was his frown that settled in her stomach like rotten food. [color=c7b29b]"No, don’t."[/color] Her arm autonomously stretched across the kitchen island until the tips of her fingers gently rested on top of Kacper’s hand. [color=c7b29b]"It was spur of the moment. I was going to eat before coming… And then I thought about how you both hadn’t eaten…"[/color] Her voice trailed off, cheeks reddening as her gaze fell to where her touch still lingered. She cleared her throat while slowly withdrawing her hand. 

[color=c7b29b]"It smells really good,"[/color] she offered the compliment quietly like a fragile olive branch. [color=c7b29b]"I can just… take it back to my cabin after—"[/color] Her words fell short as she watched him open the basket, ignoring her offer like lunch was intended to be a potluck all along rather than an unintentional competition of kindness.

Despite his words and hers, he had already begun unpacking the basket.

It wasn’t deliberate at first, more instinct than intention. His hands moved carefully, methodically, lifting the sandwiches out one by one and placing them onto a plate he retrieved from the cupboard without hesitation. The cabinet doors opened easily beneath his touch, as if he’d lived there longer than a single afternoon. Each sandwich was arranged with quiet precision, edges aligned neatly so they sat in a tidy row. The cookies followed, transferred to a smaller matching plate and placed just slightly to the left of the sandwiches in what his mind considered a logical layout.

The sodas were next. He opened the refrigerator and slid them inside along the middle shelf, spacing them evenly so the labels faced outward in neat symmetry. Chips were set to the direct right of the sandwiches, angled so the bag didn’t crinkle awkwardly against the plate. It was a rhythm he barely noticed himself performing—an old habit of control and order that soothed something restless beneath the surface. By the time he stepped back, the counter looked less like a casual meal and more like a carefully arranged spread.

Only then did he glance back toward Sloane again, a faint crease still lingering between his brows. The fire crackled softly in the hearth behind him, throwing warm light across the wooden beams and polished countertops. Rocco’s tail thumped enthusiastically somewhere near the cats, while Opal chirped curiously and Onyx circled the newcomer with dignified suspicion. Kacper rubbed the back of his neck once, the small motion betraying a flicker of uncertainty that rarely surfaced in him.

[color=54998e]“You’re allowed to stay,”[/color] he added quietly after a moment, voice softer now but still lightly edged with humor. [color=54998e]“But you’re also allowed to change your mind.”[/color]

Sloane swallowed, weighing his words along with the unfamiliar furrow in his brow and softness in his tone that felt… [i]different[/i] in the privacy of his cabin, like there was a small part of him that wasn’t putting on a show for the sake of others, or himself. He almost seemed [i]sad[/i] that she nearly left, which sat uneasily in her chest, making it difficult for her to remain silent. For whatever reason, she didn’t want him thinking it was his fault that she wanted to leave, even if that meant admitting a truth she didn’t want to speak into existence. [color=c7b29b]"It’s… [i]complicated[/i],"[/color] she admitted, barely above a whisper, like the gravity of it was too heavy to speak any louder. 

She parted her lips to continue but was interrupted by a small prick in her leg. Sloane winced softly as her gaze fell to a little ball of black fur by her feet. The kitten was propped up on his back legs with his paws reaching up her calf, claws curled into her tights creating small tears. While someone else might have been upset that their tights were ruined, she only giggled as she looked down at the bright blue eyes staring back up at her. [color=c7b29b]"You’re a little menace, aren’t you?"[/color] she mused. The cat mewed in response before she leaned over to detangle its claws from the sheer fabric and picked him up, as he made it [i]very[/i] clear that was what he wanted. 

Her left arm cradled the cat against her chest while her right hand teased the small creature, dipping in and out from tickling its belly, booping its nose, and letting the little killer latch onto her, gnawing and kicking playfully. By the time Sloane turned back around to face Kacper, her pale hand was already covered in the small puffy cuts from cat claws and small pin pricks from his teeth, but she hardly seemed bothered by it, continuing to play with him regardless. [color=c7b29b]"I wasn’t joking when I said I attract chaos,"[/color] she continued, unable to help the small laugh that slipped free at the irony of the little ball of chaos in her arms. 

Kacper exhaled slowly when he saw exactly who had claimed Sloane’s attention. His eyes flicked down to the small black culprit dangling triumphantly from her tights, and he tipped his head back with a quiet, long-suffering sigh that carried the unmistakable tone of someone who had dealt with this exact behavior many times before. [color=54998e]“Onyx,”[/color] he muttered under his breath, shaking his head while the kitten wriggled happily in Sloane’s arms, utterly unapologetic for the tiny ladder of claw marks he’d left behind. His gaze lingered on the shredded tights for a second before returning to the cat with mild reproach. [color=54998e]“You’re not getting any treats tonight, you menace.”[/color] The kitten, of course, looked entirely pleased with himself, batting enthusiastically at Sloane’s fingers as though he had just accomplished something impressive rather than mildly destructive.

[color=c7b29b]"[i]Woah, woah,[/i]"[/color] Sloane argued with a soft and airy tone. [color=c7b29b]"He can’t help how sharp his claws are. If anyone should not get treats it’s me, for ignoring him so he had no choice,"[/color] she mused with a warm smile, booping the kitten’s tiny nose intermittently while she spoke.

Across the room, Rocco had apparently decided Opal was the most fascinating creature he had ever encountered. The puppy bounded around her in small excited bursts while the white cat darted and twisted through his orbit with surprising agility, tail flicking like a banner of chaotic delight. Kacper watched the scene for a moment, amusement tugging faintly at the corner of his mouth before he turned his attention back to Sloane. [color=54998e]“He’s a little dick,”[/color] he said plainly, though the fondness in his voice softened the insult considerably. [color=54998e]“Don’t let him scratch you up too much. He doesn’t know when to stop.”[/color]

Sloane gasped dramatically, keeping her gaze locked on Onyx as his little teeth and claws latched onto her bare hand with a playfully little growl. [color=c7b29b]"[i]Noooo…[/i]"[/color] She sang the contradiction, sparing him a sidelong glance from beneath loose brunette hair that fell from her barrette. [color=c7b29b]"I’m fine,"[/color] she reassured him quietly. [color=c7b29b]"I’m tougher than I look."[/color]

He set the basket aside properly, nudging it into alignment with the edge of the counter before picking the BBQ sauce back up in his hand. For a second it looked like he might head back outside to the grill, but instead he paused and leaned his hip lightly against the counter, bottle dangling loosely from his fingers. The fire cast a slow amber glow across the room, warming the wood walls and softening the quiet between them. His attention settled on her again, not intrusive, not demanding, just present as he listened to the words she had offered earlier, the quiet admission that things were [i]“complicated.”[/i]

Kacper didn’t push her to explain. He simply watched her play with the kitten for a moment, the soft laugh she let out lingering in the warm air of the cabin. Something thoughtful flickered behind his eyes before he spoke again, tone easy but gentler than his usual teasing bravado.

[color=54998e]“Chaos, huh?”[/color] he said, glancing briefly at the wrestling puppy and cats before looking back at her. [color=54998e]“If that’s true, I think you’re in the right place.”[/color]

Sloane’s smile faded, taking a deep breath before her eyes slowly rose to meet Kacper’s gaze. [color=c7b29b]"I don’t really have any friends… It’s lonely…"[/color] The admission was quiet, followed by a small shake of her head as she tried to figure out how to share something she had never really told anyone before. [color=c7b29b]"But I isolate myself for a reason."[/color] When Onyx began to settle in her arms, she substituted the playful goading for tender pets along his head and ears. [color=c7b29b]"It’s like everything I touch… [i]breaks?[/i]"[/color] Her head tilted to the side and brows knit together pensively as she considered her following words. [color=c7b29b]"People get hurt, cheat… [i]leave…[/i]"[/color] Her last word came out slower, heavier, like admitting that was the crux without stating as much. She closed her eyes, trying to push past Sylas’s words as they teased along the edges of her mind.

She slowly opened her eyes to look across the kitchen counter toward him with a sad smile of resolute acceptance. [color=c7b29b]"I was leaving because I like you and your sister… and I wanted to spare you that."[/color] [i]And keep them both off of Sylas’s radar.[/i] Sloane might have been bad at lying and loathed doing it, but that was one truth she’d never be able to admit. 

Kacper listened without interrupting, though the slow tightening of his jaw betrayed that every word was landing somewhere deeper than he liked to admit. The easy posture he had leaned into against the counter straightened little by little as she spoke, the teasing humor that usually lived in his eyes fading into something more thoughtful, more grounded. When she finished, the quiet hung between them like the last note of a song, delicate and fragile in the warm cabin air. He shook his head slowly, almost to himself at first, as if he were gently disagreeing with a thought that had wandered too far.

[color=54998e]“Well…”[/color] he said at last, drawing the word out as he pushed himself off the counter. He set the bottle of barbecue sauce aside with deliberate care before crossing the kitchen, each step unhurried but certain. The faint frown tugging at his mouth softened the usual sharpness of his expression, and when he stopped in front of her, the height difference forced her gaze upward. For a moment he simply looked at her, as though trying to understand how someone could carry a belief like that about themselves and still smile the way she did.

[color=54998e]“Do I look broken to you?”[/color] The question wasn’t accusatory, just quietly earnest. Something in his chest tightened at the thought of her locking herself away from the world like that, declaring herself a kind of walking disaster meant to be endured from a distance. He reached out then, fingers curling gently around her wrist, though he paused long enough to lean forward and give Onyx a pointed little boop on the nose. The kitten blinked in surprise before settling back into Sloane’s arms with mild indignation.

Sloane sighed, shaking her head in disagreement. As she said, it was complicated, and just as difficult to explain without sharing the full picture. Perhaps—in another life—if she spoke the truth about Sylas, he’d listen, but some strange pang in her gut told her it’d likely have the opposite of her desired effect. She [i]foolishly[/i] wanted Kacper to just… listen and accept her words, but in the short time she had known him she quickly learned he wasn’t the type to do anything he didn’t want to. Warning be damned. 

[color=c7b29b]"No, but—"[/color] she went to argue but stopped when she noticed him move. Even though she saw it coming, Sloane still flinched as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. It wasn’t sharp or violent, nor was it startling like it had been back in the arena, more like he simply caught her offguard. The memory haunted the edges of her mind like a vignette, marbled floors, raised voices, and the lingering ache of cold fingers curled deeply into her flesh. She cleared her throat attempting to erase the glimpse of her past and mask the shift in her demeanor. Her eyes were fixed where Kacper’s finger brushed the cuff of her sweater, unable to meet his gaze as the embarrassed flush settled along her pale cheeks. [color=c7b29b]"Sorry,"[/color] she whispered.

Kacper felt it the moment it happened. The movement was small, so small most people might have missed it entirely, but it ran through her arm like a ripple beneath still water. Her body tightened for a fraction of a second beneath his grip, a subtle recoil that had nothing to do with surprise and everything to do with memory. The shift stopped him immediately. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t tighten his hold either; instead he simply froze there, fingers resting lightly around her wrist as though any sudden motion might shatter something fragile between them.

His thumb moved almost without thought, brushing once over the delicate beat of her pulse beneath her skin. The gesture was slow and careful, nothing like the teasing confidence he had shown earlier in the day. There was patience in the touch now, an unspoken question that didn’t demand an answer. His eyes lifted to her face, quietly studying the way her gaze dropped toward their hands, the faint color rising along her cheeks, the effort she made to smooth over whatever had flickered across her expression. Kacper didn’t rush her past it. He simply waited, steady and present, as if the moment itself deserved room to breathe.

When she murmured her apology, his brow creased slightly, not in irritation, but in quiet confusion. His thumb swept once more across her wrist, gentler this time, the touch more grounding than restraining. For a moment he searched her face, trying to read the story written in the hesitation she hadn’t explained. Then he gave the smallest shake of his head, the corner of his mouth softening as though the word sorry had no place in this moment at all.

[color=54998e]“Hey,”[/color] he said quietly, his voice stripped of its usual swagger, warm and steady in the low-lit cabin. [color=54998e]“You didn’t do anything wrong.”[/color]

Kacper’s comment was so simple that it caught Sloane off guard. She blinked in quiet disbelief, letting her gaze flick up to him briefly before falling back to her wrist then to the kitten curled in her arm, finding it to be a safer place to look. [i]You didn’t do anything wrong.[/i] His words replayed in her mind as she tried to come to terms with it. Had anyone told her that before? Sloane could recall countless times she messed up the perfect balance of the lives around her, especially Sylas’s, from something like her recklessness with Pandora’s box, to the miniscule, imperceivable sleights that triggered her brother daily. Apologizing had become second nature for her, whether or not she knew what she did, it was easier to accept the blame and apologize. [i]Sometimes[/i] it meant a warning, or lighter bruises… Sometimes it actually worked. 

[color=c7b29b]"[i]Hmm,[/i]"[/color] Sloane hummed pensively behind tight lips and a furrowed expression. It was like trying to rewrite something that had been hardwired into her for years. She could hear his words, parse out their validity, but something was lost in translation as they settled. [color=c7b29b]"Ok,"[/color] was all she could think to say, soft and uncertain, resting uneasily like uneven floorboards. It didn’t lay just right, warping and shifting under strain, but it could hold… for now, at least.

Then Kacper tugged her hand upward, firm but gentle, until her palm rested against the center of his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat met her touch immediately, strong and certain beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. He held her there for a second, letting the quiet rhythm speak for itself before his gaze flicked down to meet hers again. [color=54998e]“Feel that?”[/color] he murmured. A small smirk tugged at his mouth then, softer than the ones he had worn earlier in the day, less armor, more honesty. [color=54998e]“Not hurt.”[/color]

He tilted his head slightly toward the far wall, where the photographs he had carefully hung earlier lined the wood panels. In the warm firelight the images caught bits of reflection, childhood snapshots, crooked smiles, holiday pajamas, hiking trails frozen in time. [color=54998e]“And look over there.”[/color] His voice softened just a little. [color=54998e]“Not leaving, either.”[/color]

The blush that lingered on Sloane’s cheeks and across her nose deepened as her hand was pressed against his chest. Her gaze flicked up, studying his face with widened eyes and creased brows before falling and settling on her slender fingers that were splayed along the fabric of his shirt. She listened to his words, his arguments to the contrary, but with every reassurance he tried to give, her head shook in silent contradiction. [color=c7b29b]"It’s been less than a day,"[/color] she rebutted. 

And still, in one singular day of training Sylas had already clocked them, swooped in, and started laying his trap. That thought alone made her stomach turn and her face twist into something regretful and somber. [color=c7b29b]"... It’s already started,"[/color] she whispered under her breath, a thought that accidentally escaped. Her eyes went wide at the realization, tempted to nervously scoop it back up and hide it, or ramble over it like it didn’t happen. Both would only draw more attention to it, so she remained quiet with her gaze locked on the fuzzy wisps that curled off her sweater’s sleeve.

Kacper noticed the shift in her expression before he fully processed the words she’d spoken. The quiet whisper slipped out like something unintended, something that had escaped its cage before she could catch it again, and it lingered in the air between them with a weight he couldn’t ignore. His brows drew together slowly, the easy confidence that usually lived in his posture tightening into something more focused. For a moment he watched her stare down at the sleeve of her sweater as though the soft fibers might offer an answer he couldn’t see. Then he leaned down slightly, trying to catch her gaze where she’d hidden it, his hand lifting almost instinctively to gently hook beneath her chin.

His fingers barely touched her skin as he tilted her face upward, careful but insistent enough to bring her eyes back to his. The gesture held for only a heartbeat before the realization flickered across his expression, awareness settling in like a sudden flash of self-consciousness. He released her immediately, hand retreating as if he’d stepped a little too far over an invisible line neither of them had acknowledged yet. Still, he didn’t move away.

Sloane’s body tensed, breath hitching as every fiber of her being wanted to flinch or pull away like a subconscious defense that didn’t know how to handle people taking hold of her. She fought the urge through heavy breaths and a tensing along her jaw. Her eyes closed before her head was tilted too high to avoid his, like there was safety in the dark. But in that same darkness was a different cabin and a hand, cold and soft from a life of privilege closed tightly around her throat. Before the memory could take hold, her eyes snapped open, reluctantly looking up at Kacper, hoping… [i]praying[/i] that he couldn’t see the truth behind her solemn gaze.

[color=54998e]“What is?”[/color] he asked quietly. The softness in his voice was different from the teasing warmth he usually carried, stripped of bravado in a way that felt almost intimate in the quiet of the cabin. His head tilted slightly, studying her face as though the truth might still be written somewhere there. 

[color=54998e]“Sloane,”[/color] he said, gentler now, the words careful but certain. [color=54998e]“You can trust me.”[/color]

[i]Trust.[/i] That was a word Sloane wasn’t sure she knew the meaning of anymore. Who was the last person she trusted? [i]Liam? Lochlan?[/i] And before them? Still… She had trusted Kacper on the course, trusted him to bolster her or catch her. Whether or not she wanted to admit it to herself, she could feel the tendrils of trust slowly weaving and knotting when she was around Kacper… and Kat. It was the natural draw and safety of friendship, but it also tugged against her better judgement when she knew she should leave. The problem had never been her trust, but the price that came with it. 

There was a quiet, undeniable part of her that wanted to say it, to alleviate the pressure that weighed so heavily on her that it was difficult to breathe. Sloane didn’t realize how much Liam’s presence eased her. Not because he was her own self-appointed guard dog, but because there was a solidarity in having [i]someone[/i] who knew the truth, someone she didn’t have to hide and tip toe around. It was a boon she took for granted and then it was gone. She [i]could[/i] tell Kacper, regain that small sliver of peace where she could breathe and just… [i]be.[/i] But she knew that look, that subconscious, unbidden protectiveness that took hold the second someone slipped past his walls. It was dangerous, not for herself but for him, and Kat.

[color=c7b29b]"I know…"[/color] The words slipped out on their own, a quiet confession she didn’t intend on giving. [color=c7b29b]"But I…"[/color] Sloane struggled to find the words, fixing her attention at a single point on his chest between her fingers, unable to meet his gaze. [color=c7b29b]"It’s safer for [i]you[/i] if you don’t know."[/color] She nodded her head slowly, as if she was trying to convince herself as much as him. [color=c7b29b]"I need to be better at protecting people who make the poor decision to be in my life."[/color] Her tone was more playful than it had any right to be given the seriousness of the conversation, but even behind her teasing words there was a truth that could not be ignored. She had to do better, even if that meant keeping people at an arm’s length. And with that thought she took a small step back, as if a few more inches made a difference… it didn’t.

Kacper stared at her for a long moment after she stepped back, the distance between them so slight and yet somehow suddenly immense. His hand, which had just been warm against her skin, fell uselessly to his side. Then he shook his head, slowly at first, as though he were carefully rejecting each word she’d given him one by one. A breath left him through his nose, not quite a laugh and not quite frustration, and when he spoke his voice was quiet but threaded with something sharper beneath it.

[color=54998e]“Do you really think I care about safety like that?”[/color] He tried to smile for her after that, but it came out crooked, softer at the edges than his usual smirks and tinged with something tired. There was no mockery in it, no playful arrogance to hide behind, just a small, uneven pull of his mouth that looked more honest than he probably meant it to. He shifted his weight, one hand lifting in a vague, helpless gesture before falling again.

[color=54998e]“I’m a demigod,”[/color] he said, the words plain and matter-of-fact, though there was bitterness woven through them like a splinter. [color=54998e]“Sent to this super secret camp to be turned into the perfect little weapon for my father.”[/color]

The word father landed heavy, practically dripping venom. His jaw tightened visibly after saying it, the muscle there jumping once as though even the title itself tasted foul in his mouth. The fire in the hearth cracked softly behind him, amber light catching along the hard lines of his face while his gaze drifted past her shoulder, not avoiding her so much as searching for something steadier than the expression she wore.

[color=54998e]“I’ll never be safe in any way that really matters,”[/color] he continued, quieter now but no less certain. [color=54998e]“And neither will Kat. And neither will you.”[/color] He shook his head again, this time with more obvious irritation, though it wasn’t directed at her so much as the idea itself. The whole notion of safety, clean, permanent, promised, seemed to offend him on a fundamental level because it had never been something he, or his sister, were allowed. [color=54998e]“The only reason Kat and I have survived this long is because we had each other.”[/color]

The words were simple, but there was history packed tightly inside them, old and bruised and deeply ingrained. It was there in the way his shoulders squared, in the faint darkening of his expression, in the deep disgruntlement that settled over him like a storm cloud. He looked at her again then, properly this time, and something about the sight of her standing there, small, braced, already half-gone in her own mind, seemed to catch him somewhere tender.

[color=54998e]“Look,”[/color] he said, voice gentler now, though it still held that stubborn edge she was already learning he would never fully lose. [color=54998e]“I don’t know who convinced you it’s better for you to be on your own…”[/color]

He trailed off for a second, lips pressing together before he forced the rest out. 

[color=54998e]“…but they’re wrong.”[/color]

There was no hesitation in that. No room for argument. The conviction in him was so steady it felt almost immovable, like stone warmed by fire. He shifted, just slightly, and his hand twitched at his side as though he wanted to reach for her again and was actively making himself stay where he was. [color=54998e]“I’m not going to just… stop being here for you,”[/color] he said, and this time the words came slower, more careful, as if he were choosing each one with unusual precision. [color=54998e]“Especially not when you look so…”[/color]

His voice caught. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Kacper looked away then, his eyes snagging on the rolling flames in the hearth as if the fire might be easier to face than whatever had risen in him. The light painted his profile in warm gold and shadow, and for one brief beat he said nothing at all. When he finally finished, the word came out quieter than the rest, stripped bare of teasing or bravado.

[color=54998e]“Afraid.”[/color] He swallowed once, still not looking at her. [color=54998e]“It’s like you’re afraid I’m actually going to listen to you,”[/color] he said after a moment, voice low and roughened by something he hadn’t quite managed to smooth over. [color=54998e]“Even though you want me to.”[/color]

[color=c7b29b]"Because I [i]am.[/i]"[/color] The admission came out sharp and startled like it took her as much by surprise as it did him. Her chest rose heavily beneath her burgundy sweater as if a piece of her carefully curated poise slipped, showing a glimpse of the frightened girl that lived beneath the strong and stubborn woman she outwardly presented. [color=c7b29b]"I’m afraid of what being close to me does to the people I’ve cared about,"[/color] Sloane confessed between erratic breaths. [color=c7b29b]"And I’m even more afraid of being alone the rest of my life."[/color]

She could feel the burning, familiar sting of tears threatening to escape, but she wouldn’t let them, sucking in a sharp breath and blinking slowly to push past it. [color=c7b29b]"I am so lonely that it hurts."[/color] Sloane closed her eyes as her free hand rested against her chest just beneath where the cat slumbered in her arm. [color=c7b29b]"It’s this… [i]gnawing[/i] pit in my chest that won’t go away and keeps me up at night."[/color]

Her fingers trembled where they pressed into her abdomen as she tried to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat. [color=c7b29b]"I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have friends, to have people who care about me."[/color] She slowly opened her eyes, looking up at him with a devastating acceptance. [color=c7b29b]"Just the glimpse of that with you and your sister is terrifying. I want it so desperately but I can’t have it. It won’t last… It never does."[/color]

The memories of Liam she had spent the past three months burying and repressing came flooding back into her mind as if it had all happened the day before. She remembered his bullheadedness, how he protected her without question, and wasn’t scared of Sylas or what he could do. She remembered how safe she felt around him and how the time spent with him slowly pulled her out of the shell she had built out of self preservation and survival. But what she remembered most vividly was how that loyalty resulted in him being sent to Tartarus. Sloane could still see the shadow of the man he was when he returned, downtrodden and hollow after being torn apart and put back together again in a single day that felt like an eternity. And then her trial… the vision of Sylas compelling Liam to slit his throat right in front of her eyes.

Sloane had thought she was past it. She had spent months, isolated in self pity trying to move past it, repressing the heartbreak and pain until she was able to try living again. She felt free of that burden for the first time when her and Duke commiserated together during the New Year’s party, but [i]Duke[/i]… Her blood ran cold and chest tightened as her brother’s words played like a haunting omen through her mind. She reluctantly lifted Onyx from her arms, stirring the sleeping kitten as she gently set him down on the barstool beside her. The second he was out of her grasp her hands shook like even her body knew she couldn’t be trusted with something innocent and fragile. 

[color=c7b29b]"I had someone I trusted once, someone who knew… [i]everything,[/i] the good and the bad, who wouldn’t let anything I said keep him away."[/color] The words started pouring from her like a desperate confession she had been bottling up in hopes it would be a cautionary tale so that Kacper might understand and listen. [color=c7b29b]"He promised to be there for me and stay by my side. And he broke that promise, because…"[/color] She shook her head slowly as her voice trailed off, unable to finish her thought without mentioning her brother. [color=c7b29b]"He left in the middle of the night without a word, just a note saying he was sorry and asking me to look after Rocco."[/color] A traitorous tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away with the cuff of her sweater curled over the heel of her palm.

At the sound of his name, Rocco’s head perked up from where he was rolling on his back, playing gently with the small white kitten. He had been with Sloane long enough to know the signs of when she was losing her calm and her emotions were slowly taking over. The soft thud of his paws against the hardwood echoed with the crackle of the hearth as he crossed the cabin and sat down beside her. Then he leaned against her legs with a soft, reassuring whine like he knew what she was talking about even if she never once said his name. Her hand absently fell to gently stroke the pup’s head, her attention slowly followed, finding it easier to look down into his sad eyes rather than meet Kacper’s gaze.

Sloane sighed softly. [color=c7b29b]"I still didn’t learn,"[/color] she continued, her voice was somber beneath strained breaths as she attempted to ground herself through the steady rhythmic brushes of her fingers against Rocco’s fur. [color=c7b29b]"I thought I might have actually been making friends… just yesterday. Four of them. And all four of them are gone today."[/color] It was only then that she was able to pry her eyes from Rocco and force herself to meet Kacper’s gaze. Her words fell heavy like they were weighed down by lead and the dead prospect of a life out of isolation. [color=c7b29b]"That’s not a coincidence, Kacper,"[/color] she whispered, her voice cracking beneath the tightness that coiled in her throat.

If she knew Kacper wouldn’t act rash then maybe… [i]maybe[/i] she would have told him, but she didn’t trust the protective side of him to feign ignorance. Sloane didn’t need another protector. The truth only angered the people around her. It gave them the illusion of power and the upper hand against Sylas. He expected her to seek refuge in others and he was always ready for it. Friendships were dangerous because they gave her stability, stability gave her strength, and strength meant she could challenge him. She was starting to see the pieces moving just out of sight, but even with that knowledge it wasn’t enough to stop him or protect the people he sought to sink his claws into.

Kacper did not interrupt her. Not once. He stood there while her words spilled out in halting pieces and then in floods, each confession landing heavier than the last until the warm cabin felt too small to hold the weight of them. The easy humor had gone out of him completely. What remained was something quieter, steadier—his shoulders drawn taut, his jaw tight enough to ache, his eyes fixed on her with a kind of helpless concentration that bordered on pain. Every shaky breath she took seemed to catch somewhere beneath his ribs, and by the time the first tear slipped free, something inside him had twisted so sharply it made his chest feel raw.

He hated, suddenly and viscerally, the faceless shape of every person and every circumstance that had taught her to speak about herself like this. Hated the idea of her lying awake at night with that gnawing emptiness curling through her, convinced that wanting closeness was a kind of curse. Hated the thought of someone leaving her with a note and a dog and a wound so deep it had hollowed out the place where trust should have lived. And more than anything, he hated the way she said it all with that awful, resigned certainty, like she had already built the grave for every good thing before it even had the chance to bloom. When she finally looked at him again and whispered that it wasn’t a coincidence, he felt his hands curl slightly at his sides, not in anger at her, but in the kind of fierce frustration that came from wanting to pull someone out of a storm they’d mistaken for the sky.

For a long moment, he simply looked at her. His voice, when it came, was low and rough around the edges, all of its usual swagger stripped away until it was nothing but him. [color=54998e]“Sloane…”[/color] he said, and her name sounded different in his mouth now, softer, fuller, weighted by everything he’d just learned. He dragged a hand over his jaw, exhaling through his nose as if he was trying to keep himself from saying ten things at once. His eyes flicked briefly to Rocco pressed against her leg, then to the trembling of her hands, then back to her face.

[color=54998e]“I’m not going to insult you by pretending that doesn’t sound… awful,”[/color] he admitted, because gentleness from him had always come easiest when it was honest. [color=54998e]“And I’m not going to stand here and tell you that losing people doesn’t hurt, or that what happened to you wasn’t real, or that it didn’t leave scars.”[/color]

He shook his head once, slowly, almost grimly. [color=54998e]“But you’re blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault.”[/color] His gaze sharpened on that, steady and unflinching.

[color=54998e]“People cheating is not because of you. People leaving in the middle of the night is not because of you. Other people making cowardly, selfish, or cruel choices does not magically become your fault because you cared about them enough to stay.”[/color] The words came more firmly now, not harsh, but anchored, like he was driving stakes into the ground beneath her feet one by one so the world would stop tilting. There was heat in him, yes, but it was the kind turned outward on her behalf rather than inward against her.

[color=54998e]“And four people disappearing in a day?”[/color] he continued, jaw tightening. [color=54998e]“That is weird. That is suspicious. That is absolutely something I would like to be angry about.”[/color] For the briefest second, a flash of familiar Kacper surfaced, sharp, irreverent, too willing to bare his teeth at the world. But it softened again as quickly as it came, his expression gentling the moment he saw how fragile she looked standing there.

[color=54998e]“But it still does not make you the cause, even if someone else did it to hurt you, somehow, it is not [i]your[/i] fault.”[/color] He took another step closer, close enough now that the firelight caught warm gold in his dark hair and softened the edges of the stubbornness in his face. His hands lifted slightly at his sides, then hesitated, giving her the space to refuse before he bridged it. His voice lowered further, meant only for her and the quiet little world of the cabin around them.

[color=54998e]“Listen to me,”[/color] he said. [color=54998e]“I believe that you believe it. I believe you’ve had enough bad luck, bad timing, bad people, and bad pain stacked on top of each other that your brain has started connecting dots that feel safer than hope.”[/color]

His mouth twisted faintly, not quite a smile.

[color=54998e]“Because if it’s a curse, at least it makes sense.”[/color] There it was, that terrible understanding, spoken plainly enough to make it hurt. He knew what it was to choose the explanation that wounded you because at least it gave the suffering structure. He knew what it was to live by ugly logic because the alternative was chaos.

[color=54998e]“But just because something feels true doesn’t mean it is,”[/color] he murmured. [color=54998e]“Sometimes it just means it’s the story you had to tell yourself to survive it.”[/color]

His eyes dropped briefly to where Onyx had been set aside, to the tiny tears in her tights, to Rocco leaning into her as if the dog himself was trying to keep her stitched together. When Kacper looked back up, something in his face had softened into an ache so naked it would have embarrassed him if he’d had the energy to hide it.

[color=54998e]“And for the record,”[/color] he said quietly, [color=54998e]“You do have people who care about you. Right now. In this room.”[/color] He tipped his head toward Rocco with the smallest flicker of warmth. [color=54998e]“That one is obvious, even if he is a dog.”[/color]

Then his gaze held hers.

[color=54998e]“And so am I.”[/color] The silence after that was not empty. It pulsed with the crackle of the hearth, the soft rustle of fur on hardwood, the faint sound of winter pressing at the windows. Kacper swallowed once, and when he spoke again, his voice was steady in that maddeningly immovable way that meant he had already decided and the world would have to catch up.

It was easier for Sloane’s gaze to remain fixed on Rocco, the one tender constant in her life over the past couple of months. Trusting an animal was simple, effortless, but accepting Kacper’s words was a bigger hurdle… Like climbing a mountain after running an exhausting obstacle course [i]twice.[/i] It wasn’t impossible, but it wasn’t easy either. 

[color=c7b29b]"You barely know me…"[/color] Her words slipped out quietly, without giving herself a moment to weigh them and decide if they were worth speaking. Sloane’s hand ran down her face before settling over her mouth like physical restraint was the only way to keep her silent after the flood gates had opened. [color=c7b29b]"I’m sorry,"[/color] she whispered into her palm, unable to meet his gaze, instead fixing her attention on a small wrinkle in Kacper’s shirt at the center of his chest. While her words might have rang true, she should have kept them locked away, shouldn’t have interrupted him or argued. He had no reason or right to even [i]consider[/i] caring about her… But she also had no right to tell him what he could or couldn’t feel. 

It didn’t make sense and she didn’t understand it, but in the same way she tried to remove herself from his and his sister’s lives, he seemed stubbornly determined to remain. It was all very frustrating and confusing, leaving her stuck between what she [i]should[/i] do and what she [i]wanted[/i] to do.

[color=54998e]“You keep waiting for me to treat this like a warning label,”[/color] he said. [color=54998e]“Like if you tell me enough terrible things, I’ll suddenly get smart and run.”[/color]

A small, crooked smile tugged at his mouth, tired but genuine. [color=54998e]“What if I told you, for arguments sake, that I’m [i]not[/i] smart.”[/color]

He let that sit for a beat, and his smile grew just a little. [color=54998e]“And I’m still here. I’m still going to be here tomorrow, too.”[/color] The words weren’t dramatic. They weren’t sworn like some grand heroic vow. Somehow that made them hit harder. He said them like facts. Like gravity. Like the kind of promise he would rather die than break.

[color=54998e]“You don’t have to trust all of that tonight,”[/color] he added more gently. [color=54998e]“Hell, you don’t even have to believe me yet. But you do not get to decide I’m leaving before I’ve had the chance to prove I won’t.”[/color]

That, more than anything, sounded like him, stubborn, impossible, protective in a way that would likely get him in trouble and that he clearly did not care to correct. Then, slowly, so slowly there was plenty of room for her to pull away, he reached for her.

One arm came around her shoulders, the other around her waist, careful of the dog pressed against her and the space she still seemed to keep around herself like armor. There was no force in it, no suddenness, only warmth and solidity and the quiet offer of being held if she wanted it. When he drew her in against him, his chin rested lightly near the crown of her head, and the steady beat of his heart that he’d pressed her hand to earlier was impossible to miss now. Strong. Certain. Unmoved.

[color=54998e]“You are not poison,”[/color] he murmured into the soft quiet above her, each word deliberate. [color=54998e]“You are not a curse. And you are not going to be alone anymore, not if I can help it.”[/color] His hand moved once between her shoulders in a slow, grounding pass. 

Sloane listened and weighed his comments carefully, like each word fell and wedged itself just right into the gaps of her own arguments and thoughts. There were several times she wanted to argue, but didn’t and let him speak for no other reason than he did the same for her. But even as all these reassurances came pouring from him, she couldn’t help the rising panic that churned and knotted in her chest. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have kept those thoughts to herself and let Kacper be a little frowny or sad because she had considered leaving. That was easier than this… [i]burden[/i] that burst free from herself. There was no reversing time or gathering back up the pieces and shoving it behind her cracked shell. It wasn’t fair for her to unload it all on him. It… [i]she[/i] wasn’t his burden. 

Her gaze had remained steadfast on Rocco while the back of her fingers gently stroked along his nose and up over his head in a slow and steady rhythm to keep her grounded, to keep the last shred of control she had left. But no matter how much Sloane repeated in her head to not look up, to remain strong, her resolve faltered when she saw movement out of the corner of her eyes. She saw it coming slowly, like he was approaching a wounded and cornered animal. She didn’t fill the space with him, but she didn’t pull away either, remaining frozen and rigid as Kacper gently pulled her against his chest. It wasn’t like when they were close on the course, all impulse and acting without thought to save her from falling. It was intentional, painfully so. 

She wanted to cry. She wanted to let herself be weak just a moment longer while someone was willing to not just hold her, but bolster her. It was like after all of this time, Sloane was given permission to grieve… To grieve the person she used to be, the happiness she once had, and the disappearance of a person who had come to be an anchor in her life, torn away without a word or explanation. She was clinging to the first olive branch of kindness offered to her that wasn’t jaded and cut through pretense. It was a comfort that was so painstakingly foreign to her after all that time, that she wanted to be selfish and melt into it while she had it… Before Sylas or her mother or fate ruined some shred of happiness that found its way back to her again. Being strong all the time was exhausting, but it wasn’t fair to Kacper. 

Sloane let herself have it, if only for a moment or two. She couldn’t bring herself to lift her arms or wrap them around him, but her head slowly lulled forward until her forehead rested against his collarbone. The gentle rise and fall of his chest helped her measure her breaths until they were in sync with his and some of her trembling subsided to something softer and more manageable. She told herself [color=c7b29b][i]just a second longer,[/i][/color] countless times until a few seconds became a minute. 

Her hands finally moved. They were slow like they were laced with lead as she raised them and gently took a hold of Kacper’s sides. Sloane drew in a final deep breath before reluctantly holding him in place as she took a step back, putting some space between them. Her chest felt cold absent the warmth of his embrace, but she did her best to ignore it as she released her hold on him. She busied herself by wiping her bloodshot eyes and giving Rocco a gentle tap that said he was free to go back to playing, which he accepted happily and immediately ran back over toward the white kitten that waited impatiently for him. 

[color=c7b29b]"[i]Thorry.[/i]"[/color] Sloane’s thoughts were so conflicting that her words fought for space, coming out like incoherent garble. Her laugh was weak and frayed like the last sliver of her sanity slipped away. Just the tips of her fingers poked out from beneath the fuzzy cuff of her sweater as she buried her face in hands. [color=c7b29b]"[i]Thank you. And I’m sorry.[/i]"[/color] She enunciated each word slowly and sharply, forcing her tongue to heed her thoughts. 

After clearing her throat, her hands fell and she forced her red eyes to look up and meet his gaze. [color=c7b29b]"That wasn’t fair of me to unload on you like that… And I’m sorry for that."[/color] There was a sharp prick against Sloane’s arm that caught her attention before she finished. Onyx, who had obviously not enjoyed being set aside, had grown impatient waiting and demanded her attention with a tap of his paw… and claw. Her shoulders sagged with a soft sigh and faint smile. She reached out and scooped up the kitten, who promptly burrowed back into the small crook between her arm and her chest. 

Her fingers gently stroked the cat’s head or lightly squeezed his paws as she continued. [color=c7b29b]"And thank you… for being… I don’t know, understanding, I guess."[/color] It was easy to apologize, but those words struggled to come out like she didn’t quite know what or how to say it. Kacper didn’t owe her anything, yet he listened and attempted to reassure her for no other reason than there was some kindness in him underneath his sardonic arrogance that he wore like armor. Sloane looked up once again, holding his gaze for a long quiet moment before a faint, bashful smile curled at one side of her mouth. [color=c7b29b]"Can we… [i]not[/i] tell Kat about this, please?"[/color]

Kacper would have stood there for as long as she needed. Minutes, hours, until the fire burned down to embers and the ribs turned to charcoal outside on the grill, he did not care. The rest of the world had narrowed to the fragile, trembling weight of her against him and the quiet horror of realizing just how long she had been carrying all of that alone. It made something protective and furious coil low in his chest, not at her, never at her, but at every absence that had left her this starved for comfort, this apologetic for simply [i]needing[/i] it. The thought of Katryna ever looking like this, eyes red-rimmed, voice frayed, shaking like the act of being held was a luxury she had to earn, made him feel physically ill, a cold sickness settled in his stomach so abruptly it almost stole his breath.

And her brother.

That thought lodged like a splinter and refused to budge. Kacper didn’t know the full story, but he knew enough to know something about it was rotten. He could not understand, not in any universe that made sense to him, how someone who shared her blood could leave her to weather this kind of loneliness and fear. Katryna had noticed something was off, he remembered that now with a grim sort of clarity, and for once he found himself deeply irritated by how often his sister’s instincts were right. He decided, then and there, with the quiet certainty of a man setting a grudge into stone, that Sloane’s brother must be the worst sort of bastard, and he would rather chew glass than ever say that out loud to Katryna, because she would never let him live it down.

When Sloane finally stepped back, Kacper let her. He didn’t chase the space she put between them, even though the loss of her warmth left the room feeling strangely emptier than it had a minute ago. He watched her wipe at her eyes, watched her fuss with Rocco and then Onyx as if the animals gave her somewhere safe to put her hands, and something in his chest softened painfully at the sight. Her apology made his mouth pull into a faint frown, because of course she would apologize for it. Of course she would treat her own grief like an inconvenience she’d accidentally spilled onto his floor.

At her plea, though—[i]Can we not tell Kat?[/i]—the corner of his mouth twitched.

[color=54998e]“Scout’s honor,”[/color] he said immediately, lifting a hand to drag two fingers over his chest in an exaggerated little cross before extending his pinky toward her with all the solemnity of a sacred oath. [color=54998e]“Stays between us. No problem.”[/color]

There was something almost boyish in the gesture, something intentionally light to break the heaviness without dismissing it. The grin that followed was small, but warm enough to take the sting out of the moment. He kept his pinky held out for a second longer, brows raised in silent insistence, as though he fully expected her to seal it properly.

[color=54998e]“But,”[/color] he added, his tone gentling again, [color=54998e]“You don’t have to apologize.”[/color]

That part he meant with a steadier sort of conviction. He wanted, selfishly, stubbornly, perhaps unwisely, for her to understand that this did not make her a burden in his eyes. If anything, it made the invisible wall around her easier to see, and therefore easier to decide he was going to keep chipping away at it whether she liked it or not. Gods knew she needed someone she could trust. Gods knew he was already far too invested in being exactly that.

Sloane smiled, slow and genuine at the way he didn’t hesitate to keep her spiral a secret, but put in the effort to make a show of his trust and a promise he seemed intent on keeping. She couldn’t fight the quiet laugh that escaped when he offered her his pinky. Something about the innocent gesture made the tension in her shoulders slack and a breath she had been holding slipped free in a sigh. Her eyes slowly raised to meet his gaze, taking in his last comment as she inhaled softly. [color=c7b29b]"I… can try,"[/color] she replied, giving him the best and most honest answer she could give. It felt ingrained in her to apologize for every inconvenience or weakness. It was likely she’d slip up more than she would heed his words, but she could try if nothing else. 


She gave Onyx one more scratch under his chin before pulling her hand away. There was a moment of hesitation where something twisted in her chest like a sign that the pinky promise was something more than just that, although she had no idea what. Sloane considered brushing it off, but whether or not that was the conclusion her mind came to, her hand still raised. Her dainty pinky slowly extended then hooked around Kacper’s gently. [color=c7b29b]"[i]Thank you,[/i]"[/color] she whispered quietly into the silence of the cabin. Her words landed with a somber severity, like a small fragile part of herself had already started trusting him despite herself.

Kacper leaned back against the counter then, just enough to look casual again, letting some of the weight bleed out of his posture on purpose. Not because he was dismissing what had happened, but because he wanted her to feel it in the room itself, that nothing had broken, nothing had soured, nothing had become too fragile to touch. The cabin was still warm. The fire still crackled. Rocco was still joyfully harassing Opal. Onyx was once again perfectly content now that he had reclaimed his chosen perch against Sloane.

[color=54998e]“Seriously,”[/color] he said, a little softer, [color=54998e]“I’m just going to keep being annoyingly understanding about it. Consider yourself warned.”[/color] That earned him the faintest glimmer of mischief, enough to make his smile widen into something easier, brighter, the sort of expression that made him look younger and far less sharp around the edges. He pushed off the counter, snagging the bottle of barbecue sauce again like they had merely paused in the middle of an ordinary evening rather than walked through the center of her grief together.

[color=54998e]“Now,”[/color] he said, rolling the bottle lightly between his palms, [color=54998e]“Want to go sauce these ribs with me?”[/color] He tipped his head toward the porch door, a playful gleam slipping back into his eyes, not false, not forced, just deliberate in its gentleness.

[color=54998e]“I can give you the full tour after.”[/color] He spread one hand in a mock-grand gesture toward the cabin around them. [color=54998e]“Not to brag or anything, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got the best cabin here.”[/color]

The air in the cabin shifted as the heaviness of what had transpired was packed neatly away and replaced with Kacper’s casual ease like it had never happened in the first place. While the change might have been jarring for someone else, Sloane was thankful for the diversion and the comfort in simpler conversation. She gently adjusted her hold on Onyx who was curled into a little ball that looked more like a feature of her sweater rather than a small sleeping bundle of fur. [color=c7b29b]"Ok,"[/color] she replied plainly with a smile that felt like it was slowly trying to find its way back to her natural soft light, when she was able to pretend the world was less cruel. [color=c7b29b]"Although I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I’ve never cooked a day in my life."[/color]

Kacper rolled his eyes so hard it was almost theatrical, the gesture exaggerated enough to coax some of the lingering sadness out of the room and toss it aside like it had no business staying any longer. The corner of his mouth tipped upward as he looked at her over his shoulder, taking in the sight of Onyx curled so contentedly against the burgundy of her sweater that the cat looked less like a pet and more like some absurdly expensive accessory she’d accidentally acquired. Something warm and annoyingly soft stirred in his chest at the image, at the way she was starting to look less brittle now, less like she might crack if the room breathed too sharply. He hated how quickly he had already grown to care about that, but he supposed there were worse problems to have.

[color=54998e]“Yeah,”[/color] he muttered, voice threaded with dry amusement as he started toward the door, [color=54998e]“You and Kat will get along just fine.”[/color]

He pushed the door open and immediately a blade of winter air came slicing into the cabin, sharp and cold enough to raise goosebumps along his arms where the heat of the fire had softened him. Still, he held it there for her without hesitation, one hand braced against the frame while the porch beyond glimmered under a thin dusting of snow. The smell of the ribs drifted in with the cold, rich and smoky, grounding the moment in something wonderfully mundane after everything that had passed between them. Kacper glanced back at her then, and the smirk he gave her was pure trouble—crooked, cocky, and easier than it had any right to be after the weight she’d just placed in his hands.

[color=54998e]“Rest assured,”[/color] he said, all lazy confidence and playful arrogance, [color=54998e]“I’m the best cook you’ll ever have the pleasure of meeting, so nothing you do could possibly mess up my amazingly wonderful food.”[/color]

Onyx somehow managed to curl in closer as the cold breeze swept across the room and collided with them. Sloane wrapped her arms more snuggly around herself and the kitten as she approached the door. She slowed, coming to a stop when she stood before him. [color=c7b29b]"I've had a private chef my whole life,"[/color] she confessed sheepishly with a smile that scrunched her nose.

Kacper’s eyebrows lifted, then waggled with immediate, shameless delight at that little confession, as if she had just handed him exactly the kind of ammunition he liked best. The sheepish scrunch of her nose nearly undid him in a way he absolutely refused to examine too closely, so he hid it behind a grin that turned boyish and insufferably pleased. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, letting the cold curl around him while the warmth of the cabin still clung to his skin, and looked down at her like this was suddenly the most important culinary rivalry of his life. [color=54998e]“Still not as good as me,”[/color] he said with ridiculous confidence, the words delivered low and certain like a sacred truth. [color=54998e]“Trust me.”[/color]

The grin that followed was bright and infuriatingly self satisfied, the kind that made it impossible to tell where the joke ended and the genuine pride began. But beneath the swagger, beneath the easy charm he wore like a second skin, there was still that quiet thread of something more, something steady and deliberate in the way he waited for her to step through first, in the way he made the invitation feel effortless instead of careful. He was giving her an out, yes, but more than that, he was giving her something normal. A porch. Ribs on a grill. Cold air. A ridiculous ego about cooking. The kind of ordinary moment that felt almost sacred after the confession she had bled into his kitchen. And as he stood there holding the door open for her, Kacper found himself absurdly, fiercely glad she had stayed.[/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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