Updated Apr 12, 2026 • ~9 min read
Chapter 12: Completely Screwed
Cole
Cole wakes up to Quinn tracing patterns on his chest and the realization that he’s completely screwed.
Not in the fun way they were screwed last night.
In the falling-for-someone-he-can’t-have way that’s going to devastate him when this ends.
“You’re awake,” Quinn says softly, not stopping the gentle movement of her fingers.
“How long have you been up?”
“Maybe an hour. Watching you sleep. Which sounds creepy when I say it out loud.”
“It’s not creepy. It’s—” Cole catches her hand, brings it to his lips. “It’s nice. Waking up with you.”
“We’ve been waking up together for days.”
“This is different.”
“Yeah,” Quinn agrees. “It really is.”
They lie there in the early morning light filtering through the cabin window, the storm finally clearing outside, both aware that their time is running out and neither wanting to acknowledge it.
“Last night was—” Quinn starts.
“Life-changing?”
“I was going to say ‘really good’ but life-changing works too.”
Cole rolls to face her properly, tucking hair behind her ear. “Just really good? I might need to try harder.”
“You’re fishing for compliments.”
“I’m fishing for an excuse to do that again before we get rescued.”
Quinn’s smile is slow and wicked. “Well, we do have limited time. Probably should make the most of it.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
This time is different from last night—less desperate, more exploratory, both of them learning each other’s bodies in the daylight, taking time to figure out what works and what makes the other person fall apart completely.
Cole discovers that Quinn is ticklish behind her knees, that she makes this particular sound when he kisses her neck a certain way, that she’s bossy even in bed and he absolutely loves it.
Quinn discovers that Cole has a thing for her taking control, that he’s surprisingly vocal when she does something he likes, that he’ll follow any direction she gives with enthusiastic compliance.
They’re good together—really good, the kind of physical compatibility that would be dangerous even if they weren’t also intellectually compatible and emotionally connecting in ways Cole hasn’t connected with anyone.
“We should probably eat breakfast,” Quinn says eventually, both of them sweaty and satisfied and still tangled together.
“Breakfast is overrated.”
“You literally told me three days ago that breakfast is the most important meal and I should stop surviving on coffee.”
“Past Cole didn’t have present Cole’s priorities.”
“Which are?”
“Currently? Staying in this bed with you for as long as physically possible.”
Quinn laughs, kisses him, then extracts herself despite his protests. “Food. Water. Basic human needs that don’t involve keeping me in bed all day.”
“You’re no fun.”
“I’m extremely fun. You have empirical evidence of my fun levels.”
Cole watches her get dressed—pulling on his flannel again, his sweatpants, looking thoroughly ravished and perfect—and thinks about how domestic this all feels, how right, how he could get used to mornings like this for the rest of his life.
Dangerous thoughts.
They make breakfast together—Quinn’s cooking skills marginally improved from yesterday, though she still needs supervision—and eat in comfortable silence punctuated by the occasional touch, the kind of casual physical affection that couples develop over time.
Except they’re not a couple.
They’re two people who got trapped together and made a terrible decision that felt inevitable.
“We should talk,” Quinn says, reading his thoughts. “About what happens when we get rescued.”
“Do we have to?”
“We’re probably getting out of here today. Maybe tomorrow. The storm’s cleared, the radio says roads are being plowed, rescue services are mobilizing.” She sets down her coffee. “We can’t just ignore the reality that’s coming.”
Cole knows she’s right.
Hates it, but knows it.
“Okay,” he says. “Let’s talk. What do you want to happen when we get back to Cedar Ridge?”
Quinn’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to just—to keep this going. To see if what we have here translates to real life. But there’s the lawsuit and my job and the fact that everyone in town hates me, and I don’t know how to navigate that.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think everyone hates you.”
“Betty refused me coffee. The motel kicked me out. Your workers made me wait in the mud for twenty minutes.”
“Okay, yes, currently there’s some hostility. But that’s because they don’t know you. They think you’re just another Seattle lawyer coming to destroy their livelihoods. They don’t know—” He gestures at her. “This you. The real you.”
“The real me is still a Seattle lawyer trying to protect wetlands from your development.”
“Is that what you still want? The lawsuit?”
Quinn looks at him, and there’s conflict written all over her face. “I want the wetlands protected. I want your company to survive. I want a solution that doesn’t destroy either. But I don’t know if my firm will go for compromise, and I don’t know if your investors will either, and I definitely don’t know how to maintain professional boundaries while also—” She waves between them. “Whatever this is.”
“This is me falling for you,” Cole says, deciding honesty is the only option. “This is me being completely gone for Quinn Fitzgerald and having no idea how to make it work in the real world but wanting to try anyway.”
Quinn’s eyes go wide. “Cole—”
“I know it’s fast. I know it’s complicated. I know that a week ago we were enemies and now we’re—whatever we are now. But I don’t want to go back to being enemies. I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen. I want to figure out how to make this work.”
“How? How do we make this work when I’m representing the organization suing you?”
“You quit.”
“I can’t just quit my job—”
“Why not? You don’t even like it. You said yourself the firm prioritizes precedent over solutions. You could consult independently, work with businesses on environmental compliance instead of just suing them.” He’s improvising now, trying to find a solution that lets them both have what they want. “Work with me. Help me redesign the Cedar Ridge project so it protects the wetlands AND provides jobs. Show Montana businesses that environmental protection doesn’t have to mean economic destruction.”
Quinn stares at him. “You’re asking me to quit my job, move to Montana, and work with you. After one week of knowing each other.”
“I’m asking you to consider it. To think about whether what we have is worth taking a risk for.” He reaches across the table, takes her hand. “I’m not saying it has to be permanent. Stay for a month. See if this is real. See if we can find a compromise that protects both our priorities. And if it doesn’t work—if you hate Montana or we realize this was just cabin fever—you can go back to Seattle. No hard feelings.”
“One month.”
“One month to figure out if this thing between us is real or just circumstantial.”
Quinn’s thinking—he can see it in her face, the internal debate between logical caution and emotional risk.
“I’d have to talk to my firm,” she says slowly. “Probably take a leave of absence instead of outright quitting. I have apartment and student loans and obligations I can’t just abandon.”
“So talk to them. Take the leave. Come to Montana for a month.”
“And if the firm says no? If they want me to pursue the lawsuit regardless?”
“Then you have a choice to make.” Cole squeezes her hand. “I’m not going to pretend it’s an easy choice. I know your career matters. I know environmental law matters to you. But I also know—I hope—that what we have here matters too.”
“It does,” Quinn whispers. “It terrifies me how much it matters.”
“Good terrifying or bad terrifying?”
“Both. Good because I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Bad because I have no idea how to not screw this up.”
Cole gets up, moves around the table, pulls Quinn into his arms. “We’ll figure it out. Together. One terrible decision at a time.”
She laughs against his chest. “This is definitely a terrible decision.”
“The best terrible decision we’ve ever made.”
They stand like that for a while, holding each other, both aware that this conversation solved nothing concrete but at least established that they both want to try.
“When we get rescued,” Quinn says, “there’s going to be questions. The town is going to know we were alone together for a week. Your mother is going to have opinions. My firm is definitely going to have opinions.”
“Let them have opinions. We know what this is.”
“Do we? Because I’m not entirely sure what this is beyond incredible sex and questionable judgment.”
“It’s incredible sex and questionable judgment and also me being completely in love with you even though it makes no logical sense.”
Quinn pulls back to look at him, eyes wide. “You love me?”
Cole freezes, realizing what he just said. “I—that came out more intense than I meant—”
“Do you mean it?”
He could backtrack.
Could say it was just the emotion of the moment, cabin fever, not real.
But Cole Hartford doesn’t lie, even when the truth is terrifying.
“Yeah,” he says. “I mean it. I love you, Quinn. I know it’s fast and probably stupid and definitely complicates everything, but I love you anyway.”
Quinn kisses him—hard and desperate and perfect—and when she pulls back she’s smiling through tears.
“I love you too,” she says. “Which is the worst possible timing and absolutely terrible judgment and I don’t even care because it’s true.”
“Terrible judgment is kind of our thing now.”
“Apparently.”
They spend the rest of the day in bed—talking and making love and avoiding thinking about the rescue that’s inevitable, the complications that are coming, the reality that in a few hours this bubble is going to burst.
But for now, they have this.
Have each other.
And Cole thinks that maybe love is just a series of terrible decisions that feel absolutely right, and if that’s the case, he’s making all the terrible decisions with Quinn and hoping they add up to something beautiful.
Even if it breaks his heart trying.
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