Chapter 7 - The First Snowfall
The cabin was warm with the smell of woodsmoke and roasting venison by the time evening settled over the peaks.
Nora sat in a rocking chair by the stone hearth, her swollen feet propped up on a braided wool ottoman, knitting a tiny blue beanie with yarn she’d bought at the general store down the road. Her fingers moved with a rhythmic, hypnotic grace, the wool looping over the wooden needles like water over smooth stones.
Adrian walked in from the porch, shaking the last of the wet snow off his shoulders, and dropped his jacket by the door.
He walked over to her chair, knelt beside the hearth, and pressed his palm gently against the round, firm curve of her belly.
Inside, as if recognizing the touch, the baby gave a sudden, sharp kick against his hand.
Nora looked down at him, her dark eyes shining with a quiet, steady light that had nothing to do with the firelight dancing across the room.
"They came, didn't they?" she asked softly.
Adrian looked up, resting his chin against her knee. "How did you know?"
"I heard the car. And I saw them leave from the upper window." She reached out, her warm fingers tangling in the short hair at the base of his neck. "Are you okay?"
"I'm better than okay," Adrian said, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of lavender and cedar that seemed to cling to her skin no matter where they were. "I’m home."
"For good?"
"For good," he promised. "No deployments. No corporate boards. No basins."
May you like
Nora smiled, a bright, clear expression that reached all the way to her eyes, and pulled him up into a deep, slow kiss that tasted like winter and woodsmoke and the sweet, uncomplicated beginning of everything that mattered.
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