She thought about her own fears, how overwhelming the hospital had become, how even the thought of returning made her heart race. “One small thing at a time,” she repeated.
“It’s not a cure, but it helps.”
They sat in companionable silence as the snow continued to fall, dusting their shoulders and hair. She found herself studying Beckett’s profile, the strong line of his jaw, and the thoughtfulness in his eyes. How strange that this man, whom she’d initially resented as an intruder in her father’s house, now felt like the person who best understood her.
“We should head back,” she said eventually. “Before Dad sends out a search party.”
He stood and offered his hand. She took it, surprised by the warmth that spread through her gloved fingers at his touch. He helped her up, and for a moment, they stood close enough that she could see the individual snowflakes landing on his shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For listening. For understanding. For not trying to fix me.”
Something shifted in his expression, a softening around the eyes. “You don’t need fixing, Tessa.”
The walk back was quieter, but the silence felt comfortable and filled with unspoken understanding rather than awkwardness. The snow fell heavier now, transforming Sweet River Falls into a winter wonderland. Christmas lights twinkled from shop windows, and the scent of pine and smoke from the chimneys filled the air.
As they approached her father’s house, she realized she felt lighter somehow, as if sharing her fears had diminished their power. The panic that had been her constant companion in Denver seemed distant here, replaced by something she couldn’t quite name. Not happiness exactly, but perhaps the possibility of it.
Through the window of the cabin, she could see her father laughing at something, cards spread on the table between him and Ronnie. The sight warmed her more than she expected.
“They seem to be having fun,” she observed.
He nodded. “Your dad and Ronnie seem to really enjoy their card nights.”
They stood at the edge of the yard, snow gathering on their shoulders, neither quite ready to go inside and break the spell of understanding that had formed between them.
“Do you think you’ll stay in Sweet River Falls?” she asked suddenly. “After your program ends?”
He brushed snow from his sleeve, considering. “I’d like to. It feels like somewhere I could belong.” He looked at her. “What about you? Will you go back to Denver?”
The question caught her off guard. A week ago, she would have answered without hesitation. Of course, she would go back. Her life was there, her career, her apartment. But now...
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. Now I’m not so sure.”
He nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Sometimes the hardest paths to see are the ones right in front of us.”
A gust of wind swirled snow around them, and she shivered despite her layers.
“We should go in. You’re cold.”
“Just a minute more.” She wanted to hold onto this moment, this connection, for just a little longer. “It’s beautiful out here.”
And it was. The snow-covered yard, the lights glowing from within the house, and the mountains rising beyond the town, solid and reassuring. For the first time since arriving in Sweet River Falls, she felt something like peace settle over her.
“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.
She turned to him. “That I’m glad I came home.” She surprised herself with the truth of it. “Even if I didn’t want to at first.”
Something warm flickered in his eyes. “I’m glad you did too.”
For a moment, she thought he might reach for her hand again, and part of her hoped he would. Instead, he gestured toward the house. “Shall we?”
As they walked up the steps to the front door, their footprints side by side in the fresh snow, she realized she had found something unexpected. She had found a connection with someone who saw her clearly, flaws and fears and all, and still wanted to walk beside her.
Chapter 11
