“Ivy,” Henry started. “I didn’t say it right that day. Your ability to see the best in people isn’t a weakness. It’s one of your strengths.”
The cheesecake arrived, a slice of pure white topped with dark purple berries that looked like twilight descending over snow.
“Being positive all the time—it’s exhausting sometimes,” Ivy continued, surprising herself with the confession as she took a bite of the cheesecake. The sweetness melted on her tongue, followed by the tang of wild berries that reminded her of childhood hikes with her mother. “Everyone expects Dr. Bright to be sunshine and solutions, never doubt or darkness.”
Henry studied her face, seeing beyond her usual brightness to the complexity beneath. “You carry that weight for others. I see it now.”
The simple acknowledgment nearly undid her. Ivy looked down at the dessert, gathering herself before meeting his gaze again.
“It’s why the project matters so much,” she admitted, watching as Henry tasted the dessert, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “If I can’t make it work, after all the trust people have placed in me...”
Henry reached across the table, his larger hand covering hers. “You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.” The words settled around her like a promise. Ivy turned her hand beneath his, their fingers intertwining.
“We see things differently,” Henry continued, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. “But maybe that’s exactly what we both need.”
Ivy smiled, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. “Who would have thought the grumpy forest hermit would be the one to remind me it’s okay not to be sunny all the time?”
“And who would have thought the eternal optimist would be the one to drag me out of isolation,” Henry countered, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.
When the last of the cheesecake was gone, Henry settled the bill despite Ivy’s offer to share the cost. “This was my invitation,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm.
As they stood to leave, Henry hesitated. “The view of the lake is beautiful at night,” he said. “Would you like to take a walk before we head back?”
Ivy smiled, taking his arm. “I’d love to.”
Chapter
Seventeen
Ivy steppedinto the cool night air beside Henry, her body still warm from the wine and rich food. Dinner had been perfect. The path to the lake stretched before them, illuminated by soft landscape lighting that faded into natural moonlight as they moved away from the building.
Without hesitation, she slipped her arm through Henry’s, feeling the solid warmth of his body at her side. His muscles tensed momentarily at the contact before relaxing, another small victory in their growing connection.
“The view should be incredible tonight,” she murmured, tilting her head toward the three-quarter moon hanging above the mountain ridge. “The lake reflects everything like a mirror when it’s this calm.”
The path descended gently through a stand of pines whose scent intensified in the cool night air. Their needles cushioned her steps, making her grateful she’d chosen lower heels. The forest opened suddenly to reveal the lake spread before them like liquid silver, mountains reflected perfectly on its still surface.Tiny ripples caught the moonlight, transforming ordinary water into scattered diamonds.
Henry led her to a wooden bench situated in a small, naturally formed cove, sheltered by overhanging branches but with an unobstructed view of the water. Ivy sat close beside him, their thighs touching.
“It’s beautiful tonight,” she said, a flood of memories hitting her all at once. “When I was little, maybe seven or eight, my mother would take me hiking,” Ivy began, looking out over the water. “She had this incredible way of helping me see things—not just look at them. She’d find tiny mushrooms hiding under fallen logs or point out how tree bark patterns differed from species to species.”
She smiled at the recollection. “One day she told me that knowledge creates connection, and connection creates protection. People protect what they love, and they can only love what they truly understand.”
Henry nodded, his expression thoughtful. “The center is her legacy, then.”
“Partly,” Ivy acknowledged. “But it’s also about building a bridge between people and this mountain. Humans and shifters and the land itself, all connected.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Most environmental education focuses on problems—deforestation, pollution, species loss. Important, absolutely. But I want to start with wonder.”
As she spoke, Henry’s gaze never left her face, his attention more focused than she’d ever experienced from anyone.
“Living alone has changed how I see this mountain,” he said after a moment, his voice dropping lower. “For most people,nature is somewhere to visit. For me, it’s home. But I never thought about how to share that perspective.”
He turned slightly on the bench, his knee pressing more firmly against hers. “Meeting you has changed things. Changed me.” His voice roughened with the admission. “I didn’t expect that.”
The vulnerability in his words caught Ivy off guard. This grumpy, isolated bear shifter who had spent years perfecting his solitude was acknowledging her impact on his life. Her chest tightened with emotion.
“When we first met, I thought you were maybe a little naive,” Henry continued, the words clearly difficult for him. “But you’re not. You’re strong. You choose to see possibility in people, in situations, even when it would be easier not to.”
Ivy reached for his hand, her fingers sliding between his much larger ones. “And your caution isn’t pessimism. It’s protection. You see potential threats because you care so deeply about what needs safeguarding.”
