Free Smoky Mountain Setup by Paula Graves Page B

she’d kept pent up for too long. But was a cave in the middle of a snowstorm really the place to have this argument?
    “I’m sorry,” she said, picking up the MRE she’d thrown down. “This isn’t the time or place—”
    “You’ll tell me when you find that time and place, right?” he asked in that quiet tone she was beginning to recognize as his slow boil.
    “Do you really want to hash this out here and now?”
    “No,” he admitted. “Not here or now.”
    “Let’s just get some food and some sleep, in that order.” She opened the MRE and pulled out the packets inside. The entrée was the first place to start, she decided. The most calories, and she could eat it hot. She could save the items that didn’t require heating for breakfast. “You know how to use one of these things, right?”
    “Yeah.” He picked up the flameless ration heater. “Been a while, though.”
    “These come with saltwater packets to activate the heater.” She poured the water into the heater, activating the chemicals that produced heat. The packet warmed quickly, and she held it as long as she dared, until the heat began to sting her fingers. She shoved the entrée into the heater packet and set it aside. “What sides came in your packet?”
    He went through the small packets that had come in his meal. “Cheese and crackers, fig bar, shortbread cookies, raisins—”
    “Trade you my peanut butter for the cheese spread, and this yummy oatmeal cookie for the shortbread.” She waggled the packets at him.
    “Deal on the cheese spread, but I don’t know. These shortbread cookies sound pretty appetizing.” He held out the packet toward her, pinning her with his gaze. “But I might be convinced to trade it for something else.”
    Despite the icy chill of the cave, the air between them heated instantly. The familiar fire in his gaze was pure temptation, and damned if she didn’t want to tumble in headfirst.
    She looked away. “If you want the shortbread cookies, keep them.”
    He let out a little huff of air. “Here. You can have them. I’ll take the oatmeal cookie.” He laid the packet of shortbread cookies on the cave floor in front of her.
    She looked up and saw something in his expression she hadn’t expected.
    Sadness.
    “Landry—” She stopped. Started again. “Cade.”
    His eyes snapped up at her use of his first name. “You never called me Cade when we were together. No need to start now.”
    “Maybe that was a mistake. I mean, you called me Olivia. Why did I have to put that distance between us?”
    “That wasn’t what put distance between us.” He looked down at the shortbread cookies she hadn’t yet picked up. “And it wasn’t just you. I need you to know that I know that I was a big part of the problem.”
    “Maybe we were just too damaged for anything between us to have a chance to work.” To her dismay, she felt hot tears stinging her eyes, threatening to fall. She blinked hard, keeping them at bay.
    “I wish I wasn’t in this situation.” He growled the words, his voice deep with frustration. “I wish I’d just come to you before, when there weren’t people hunting for us both. I wish I’d told you that I loved you and we could figure out a way to make it work.”
    “I could have tracked you down and said the same thing.” She made herself look at him, to face the choices she’d made. “I wasn’t ready to make that move, and I wouldn’t have been ready to give you a second chance if you’d shown up at my door, either.”
    “Then why don’t I feel like it’s really over?” The words seemed to tumble from his lips, fast and desperate, as if something inside him was determined to get the question out before his better judgment found a way to shut him up.
    “I don’t know,” she answered as truthfully as she could.
    “You don’t feel that way, do you?”
    She could lie, she supposed. Tell him what he clearly believed to be the truth. But she’d never been able to lie to him