Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Kara

The interior of Cameron's cabin was as cold as the outdoors.

I was freezing and dripping wet from the storm. With great care, Cameron placed me down on his bed, soaking his sheets instantly. He knelt in front of me, placing my trembling hands between his and rubbing warmth back in them.

"Kara," he said with urgency, "we need to get you out of these wet clothes."

I was going to crack a dirty joke, hoping to lighten the heavy load in my chest, but I was shivering so badly I couldn't get a word out. At my nod, he helped me remove my dress. There was a loud plopping sound as it landed on the floor.

My teeth chattered as I carefully toed off my shoes. My ankle was barely sore and didn't hurt as much as I had feared. If he hadn't come for me and I trudged my way to his cabin on my own, I probably would have sprained it. Or worse.

Cameron reached for the duvet, wrapped it around me, and rose. I could feel his desperate effort to get me warm in the speed of his movements.

"W-where are you going?"

"I'll be right back," he said and went out the door.

Where the hell is he going in this storm? I tried to get up and go after him, but my legs felt frozen and useless. Before I could try and stand again, he was back.

The furious sound of the storm entered the cabin as the door shot open and Cameron stepped inside. It slammed closed behind him from the force of the wind.

His boots made a thwacking sound on the floor as he crossed the room. He was carrying a few logs of firewood. His floor was a mess, but his sole concentration was in his task. Crouching in front of the stone fireplace, he went to work, reaching for a small axe propped beside the fireplace and chopping a log into small pieces for kindling. Soon the smell and crackle of fire invaded my senses as it came to life under his skilful hands.

Cameron went to the kitchen, filled the electric kettle with water and turned it on. I watched as he struggled to pull off his wet shirt that seemed to want to cling to his body, letting out a soft grunt when he finally removed it, then he disappeared in the bathroom.

He came out immediately. Shirtless, barefoot, and in jeans, he carried a fresh towel, my pajama bottoms I left here, and his white shirt that was three times my size. The white shirt was always the one I wore whenever I slept over in his cabin. The sight of it made my throat tight with emotion.

He knelt in front of me.

"Let's get you warm," he said. He patted down my hair with the towel, pressing the strands between the cloth quickly but gently.

He handed the white shirt to me and turned his head away to give me privacy. I shrugged the duvet off my shoulders and was trembling so badly I could barely raise my arms to put the shirt on.

"Here," he whispered thickly.

He reached for the shirt and helped me put it on. I held my breath as he leaned forward, his hands going behind my back and inside my shirt to unclasp my bra. My heart pounded against my chest at the intimacy of it all. He smelled of rain, of the woods, and of memories of the man who had taken my heart and would never let go of it.

He let out a heavy breath as he pulled away, sliding the straps off my arms. Then his hands went under my shirt again, his fingertips pressing on my hips before pulling my panties down my legs. My face felt hot.

Way to beat frostbite, I guess.

I winced when the piece of lace caught around my ankle and pulled. I felt a slight sting.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern in his tone, then he held my foot with great care as he lowered his head and checked it. In his huge hands, my foot looked dainty. "You have a little scrape. Didn't break the skin, just a little red. Does it hurt?"

Cameron's skin was still damp. Droplets of water had clung to his broad shoulders, his neck, his chest. His hair was still wet, the dark curls covering his forehead. I watched a droplet trickle down his temple, down the side of his cheek to his jaw. I bit my lip and tamped down the urge to touch him.

When I didn't answer, he raised his head and looked up at me.

In the silence between us, the tension was thick and made it hard for me to think. The flickering light from the fire reflected in his blue eyes. He was mesmerizingly beautiful.

But even without his beauty, I would still be captivated by him. His hands, capable and fearless, held me throughout the storm without letting go. His hands had built my family's shop, our source of living. His hands had saved my brother. Those same hands were holding me protectively now.

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. He was looking at me with complete attention, with devotion, as though I was the most important thing in his life, and it made my heart race in my chest.

Suddenly a violent tremble wracked my body. Still shaking from the cold, I slid deeper inside the duvet, held it to me tighter.

"Shit. Give me a minute," he said.

Hurriedly he picked up my wet clothes, drying the wet spots on the floor on his way to the kitchen. When he came back, he held a steaming mug, asked me to take a sip. When I had enough, I gave it back to him and he placed it on the small coffee table by the fire. Then he dragged a deep and oversized chair in front of the fireplace.

"I just turned the hot water on," he said as he walked toward me. "You can take a hot bath in half hour. Meanwhile"—he scooped me up in his arms—"why don't you use me to get warm?"

My breath caught in my throat. I locked my arms around his neck, holding on to him as he walked closer to the fire.

He sat on the chair he'd just placed in front of the fireplace and cradled me in his lap. I moved my arms down, crossing them in front of me as he adjusted the duvet and wrapped it around us.

I was surrounded by a cloud of warmth. It had been so long since I felt him like this, since we were skin to skin like this. I closed my eyes and leaned against him, hearing the strong beat of his heart. His hand rubbed my back. My body started to thaw, the cold draining away from my bones.

The fire crackled, the shadows flickering on the planes of Cameron's gorgeous face. Outside the storm raged, but inside the cabin was warm and cozy. In his arms I felt safe and protected.

"Kara."

His arms pressed against me, tighter than he did before, as though he was afraid that he'd lose me, that I'd disappear.

I should have fallen asleep, exhausted as I was, but now that my body felt normal again, my mind started to be in turmoil.

When I pulled away and looked up at him, his eyes reflected something deeper that I realized he'd been hiding. It was different than his torment, different than the loneliness and sadness he harboured close to his side. What was so different this time?

Somewhere deep in my heart something stirred. Maybe there was nothing different. It was just because since he'd been back, and especially in the past few weeks after the fire, I had turned away from him. Maybe I had refused to see what was in his eyes because I was afraid.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice gruff.

His question held a heavy meaning. It felt like our present and our future depended on how tonight was going to go and would affect us for the rest of our lives. It made me feel extremely vulnerable.

This time I didn't pull away. This time I didn't push him away or hide my emotions from him. Maybe it was the threat of danger that made me realize I wanted to be here, the cruel reality that I could lose him forever at any time.

He didn't care for himself, prioritizing the well-being of the people he cared for before his own. Wasn't that the reason why he left me in the first place? As wrong as his decision was, I understood his why now. It would have made it worse if his reasons were purely selfish, but I had to consider that he'd also sacrificed his own needs and desires to keep me safe. It didn't excuse what he did or said, because it was misguided, twisted, and heartbreaking, but it made it a little easier for me to accept and understand. And with understanding, forgiveness followed.

How could I stay when it meant you'll get hurt because of me?

Every night in my sleep I would lose you over and over.

I will do anything to keep you safe.

I'd like to make it right if you'd let me.

Just as I had suffered, he too had suffered. Just as he had made mistakes, I too had made them. People hurt each other, break each other. It's up to me to determine who are the ones I'd like to fight for to keep in my life or not.

And maybe I didn't pull away this time because I realized the way he recognized the important things in my life and he treated them the same, maybe it was the new stairs, the sandwich he'd given me, the way he readily came to help me or my family, or the hundred other things he had done for me. He had not asked anything in return. I could see the positive changes in him, the effort he was putting in to earn my forgiveness. Or maybe it was fate. Whatever the reason was did not matter.

I had been so angry, resentful, and just damn miserable blaming him that I hadn't allowed myself to open up to him again.

I hadn't allowed myself to see the truth. And tonight, it finally hit me. I had been fighting so hard the very thing that would release me from my torture. It had been right in front of me all along.

But before I accept it, before I could even take a step forward, I need to know something first. And I know to get that out from him, I needed to stay strong and keep at it, push, nudge, encourage just a bit more...

"I heard what you did for Dylan," I said.

He closed his eyes for a moment but didn't say anything.

"If something like this happens again, I'd like you to tell me. I'll make sure he pays you back every penny it cost you."

After a moment, he finally asked, "Are you here because I helped Dylan?"

From the expression on his face and tone of his voice, it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

"He said you didn't want me to know about it. He didn't mean to tell me. It slipped out. You know how he is." I pulled away from him and sat up straighter. "I want to know why you didn't want me to know you saved him."

His jaw clenched.

"Why, Cam?" I demanded.

"I want you to come to me because you want to be with me."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has got to do with everything! I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to think you owe me anything for saving your brother. I want you to come to me because you want to be with me."

"I didn't come here because I feel like I owe you."

"Then why? Why are you here, Kara?"

"I was worried something bad happened to you," I said.

"Is that it? You're here because you were worried about me."

"You weren't answering your phone."

"It's storming outside," he hissed. "You could have been seriously hurt."

"But I wasn't."

The muscles in his arms hardened with tension.

"You could've kept phoning, but you came all the way out here. Why?"

"What else could there be?"

He gritted his teeth. After a moment he said, "All right."

At his response, my breathing picked up, my ears felt hot. I pushed away from him, rising to my feet. I faced him.

"All right?" I said with heat. "That's all you're going to say? Aren't you going to keep pushing? Are you satisfied with that?" It was unfair to him, because he did ask me repeatedly, but... "You haven't asked me again—you haven't asked me at all why I haven't given you my answer!" And there it was, the real reason why I felt this way. I could never hide from him for long. "You don't care anymore whether I want to be with you or not, is that it?"

"No." He rose, towering over me. And narrowed his eyes on my face. "That's not why."

I could see the anger in the dangerous glint of his eyes, in the jerk of his shoulders as he walked to the kitchen, in the rigidness of his broad back. He stood behind the counter and poured water from a pitcher in a glass. With his eyes still on me, he drank.

His eyes lingered on my face, studying me before he said, "You've been avoiding me every chance you get. And you're asking me why?" he bit out.

"Are you angry with me?"

"What, I can't even get angry anymore? Well, tough luck." He slammed the glass down on the counter, not enough to break but enough to startle me. "Damn right I'm angry! I can get angry at myself, at the damn world if I want to, and there's nothing you can do about it.

"I gave you up," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I hurt you. The most important person in my life. And now I'm suffering the consequences of my decisions. So, yeah, I'm all fucked up about it.

"Why do you think I haven't asked for your answer? Because I've already asked so much from you and you've already given me more than I deserved. And I'm scared, Kara, that one day you'll realize you've had enough that you won't even look back at me.

"And now you're going out with another guy. I know damn well there is no one to blame but me. But tell me, what are you doing here then? You travelled all the way here. Reckless and stupid to travel these roads in a damn storm, I'd say. You could've been hurt. What the fuck do you think I'm gonna do if something bad happened to you?" He shoved his hands in his hair, sliding down behind his head to his neck.

I could feel the aggressive energy coming off him in waves, but for some reason I knew it wasn't directed toward me. It was directed at himself, at the damn world he seemed to be angry with. He paced back and forth, then stopped, braced his arms on the edge of the counter. The muscles and veins in his arms stood out, telling me how hard he was trying to rein in whatever it was that was consuming him.

I saw him win over it. Maybe not completely, but enough so that he had calmed himself and walked back, forced himself to sit in the chair in front of the fire. Legs spread, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, locked his hands behind his neck, and lowered his head. Then he looked up at me with his piercing blue eyes.

"Kara, I'm only made of flesh and bone, I'm only a man. I'm weak when it comes to you." There was a plea in his eyes as he asked in a husky voice, "What is it that you want from me?"

I clutched at my chest, feeling like it was going to burst. Suddenly all the emotions I'd been bottling inside spilled out hotly, taking over me. My lips trembled. Something about my expression alarmed him and he rose from his seat, but I stepped away, shook my head at him.

"I want to know why you would do all these things for me," I whispered.

It was as though the war he was waging inside himself ended abruptly. His eyes turned darker, deeper, more vulnerable, but at the same time there was a quiet power in the way he stood in front of me, and a tenderness in the way he looked into my eyes as though he was offering himself to me.

"Kara," he said softly. "I love you."

My lips parted on sharp breath. A tear trickled down my cheek. This was the first time I heard those words from him. Hearing them, seeing the truth in his eyes, and knowing that he meant every word, filled a hole in my heart that had been hollow since he left.

"I'm so damn sorry I didn't say it that night. I didn't think I deserve to say those words to you when I knew I had to leave you that night, when I knew I had to give you up to keep you safe. That moment kept haunting me, even now. I'll make it up to you for the rest of my life if you'll let me," he pleaded.

Tears started to pour down my face. I knew he loved me, but I didn't know how much I wanted to hear those words from him until he went away. And how much they were healing my heart now.

"Kara, it had never been words for me. I'd rather show you. I tell you I love you all the time. I tell you I love you when I make you something to eat. I tell you I love you whenever I say your name. Every time I think of you. And I think about you all the damn time. I tell you I love you when I give you what you ask of me, when I touch you, kiss you. It had never been words for me, but for you I will give them if they're what you want."

My heart rejoiced at his words. I had noticed he'd been more open with his words to me. I could see it was hard for him, but he was trying his best. He took a step forward. I wanted to jump in his arms, make everything good between us again, but I shook my head instead.

"No," I choked out, wiping the tears off my face. "I'd like my turn now."

Agony flitted in his eyes. Look how he instinctively braces himself for the worst. I don't think he's even aware of it.

"I'd like to explain why I've been avoiding you," I said. If I give in to my need to hold onto him now, I wouldn't be able to tell him what was in my heart. And we both needed me to.

Leaning against the wall for support, I faced him. "That night when you told me all the reasons why you had to leave me, it didn't bring relief. I was mad at you and blamed you for the times we could have had together, for all those days wasted hating you, aching for you. For the heartbreak we could have prevented if only."

He lowered his head, shielding his eyes from my gaze, but not before I saw the stricken look in them. I ached to go to him, give him comfort, but things had to be said so we could move forward.

"I didn't want to be alone with you because I was scared that if I let you back in my life, I would give you all of me again. I would. I don't know how else to love you but to give all of myself. And I'm so scared that if I do this with you again, that it will be a repeat of everything.

"I never understood why you left me. I thought about what you went through, how it must've been like hell to have a childhood with a mother like that. How lonely you felt, how isolated. How you're used to it. Then I thought about all the things we've been through together, overcome together, the things we were to each other. I never understood why you left me. Now I do.

"You save the people in your life by leaving because you think your presence brings them harm, by breaking your heart over and over for their sake because Raven made you think it's what you have to do to keep them safe. But that's wrong. Maybe when you were a child you couldn't do anything, but it's different now.

"You broke your heart when you left me, but you also broke mine in the process. You don't protect the people you love by leaving. You protect them by staying and fighting no matter how hard it gets."

I waited until he looked at me before I said, "And that's what you're doing now, isn't it? With me." My voice cracked. Tears ran down my face. I couldn't stop them even if I tried. "You're fighting for me."

What he did for Dylan, for my family. For me. Since the beginning, I knew it was all for me. How could I deny his love? It was right in front of me all along, reckless, wicked, passionate, faithful, and true.

"You love like me, Cam. You don't know how else to love me but to give all of yourself to me. I know it even without the words because you make me feel it over and over. No one has loved me like you do. I want all of it. I want you. I want everything about us.

"I made you wait," I whispered. "I needed time to think about everything. And the answer to your question is yes. Yes, I want to give us another chance. Yes, I want to be with you."

The tears on his face tore me apart.

"Kara." He took a step toward me, blue eyes imploring. And this time I met him halfway, running toward him. "Kara."

He hauled me in his arms, crushing me against him. His heart was beating madly against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his back, holding tightly, as he rested his cheek on top of my head.

"The world felt like nothing without you. I felt lost without you. Have you forgiven me?"

"Yes." I pulled away so I could see his face. "Love means forgiveness. Love is not a punishment. It's grace and understanding. You draw strength from love, not fear. It lightens your burden, not make it heavier. And, Cameron, I love you."

He squeezed his eyes shut, and I could tell he was overwhelmed. I wanted him to understand we were stronger together. We could start over because we knew what we had was priceless, that us being together was worth fighting for.

"Baby, you destroy me," he whispered. "Never known love like yours before. Never wanna lose it again. Don't give up on me, Kara."

"I won't. Don't give up on me either," I whispered back. His hands trembled as they brushed my hair off my wet cheeks. "Promise me something."

"Anything."

"I'm not just here for the good times. I'm here for everything—the good and bad things in your life, just as you are here for mine. How come when a tragedy strikes my family, when my life is difficult, you become my shield? Why can't you let me be the same for you? I want us to rely on each other. Don't spare me the worry or pain of your problems. Especially when you need me. Trust in me, in us."

His throat worked and swallowed hard. There was a storm in his blue eyes—wild and restless. "I don't deserve you."

"Promise me, Cameron."

"I promise." I heard the sincerity in his voice, the strength in it. "I won't let you down."

I placed my arms around Cameron's neck, and the look he gave me said he understood. He gripped my hips and raised me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist.

He walked to the bed and sat on the edge. I straddled him, holding his jaw in my hands, marvelling at how heartbreakingly beautiful he was.

There was a smile on his sensual mouth as he looked into my eyes. "Let me make you another promise," he said softly.

My hands slid to his shoulders, down to his chest so that my palms rested against his heart. I felt the strong, quick beat of it. His skin was so warm. "Tell me, Cam."

"I love you," he said gruffly. "It's all or nothing for me. And it's you I want for the rest of my life. If you'll have me."

"I'll have you." My voice broke. "I'll keep you."

"I never learned how to let go of you, not even once. I fooled myself that I did, but I didn't even try, Kara. I couldn't."

He held my face in his hands, stroking the sides of my neck. I missed this. I missed this so much I ached.

"Kara," he murmured my name against my ear and I heard the plea in it. "Will you let me hold you now?"

"Yes," I breathed, closing my eyes as his thumb stroked my bottom lip.

"Touch you?"

"I need you to."

"Kiss you?"

"I'm going to need you to do more than that..."

To be continued...

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A/N: Hi loves, whew! This took a while to write/rewrite/destroy/put back together. I felt wrecked. If you saw me in the middle of it you'd think I'd gone crazy. But it was important to me to feel their reunion deeply and I can finally say I am emotionally satisfied with it! My heart is happy. (Crying. More crying). I hope you are too. And I hope you enjoyed reading it and I'll see you in the next one! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! God bless you and yours. Love, Isabelle