"Wouldn't dream of it." He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. "You make the place feel alive."
That night, as the sun drops behind the ridge and the sky blushes pink and gold, I step outside again. The snow glows in the twilight, soft and endless. The mountains hum—the same sound I heard when I first came up here, but now it feels different. Not a warning.Welcome.
Thatcher comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and rests his chin on my shoulder. His warmth seeps through the flannel, chasing away the evening chill.
“Change your mind about staying?” he murmurs against my hair.
"Not a chance."
His arms tighten, and I feel him smile. "Good."
We stand there as the stars begin to appear—first one, then another, then thousands spilling across the darkening sky likescattered diamonds. The Christmas star blazes brightest of all, and I make a wish on it anyway.
Behind us, the cabin glows warm and golden, smoke curling from the chimney. Inside, the tree we cut together yesterday stands in the corner, still bare but waiting.
"We should decorate," I say.
"With what?"
I turn in his arms, grinning up at him. "With everything. Ornaments made from old metal. Pinecones. That star you made above the fireplace."
He raises an eyebrow. "That star's not coming down. It weighs a ton, and it’s much too big for the top of the tree."
"Then make another one."
He chuckles. "Demanding."
"You love it."
"I love you," he says, and the world stops.
I blink up at him. "What?"
"I love you," he repeats, like it's the simplest thing in the world. He lifts an eyebrow. “Like you didn’t know.”
My heart feels too big for my chest. "It’s just so fast."
He shrugs. "So?”
"We barely know each other."
"We know enough."
I search his face, see nothing but certainty. "You're serious."
"Always serious," he says, but he's smiling. “I wouldn’t have invited you to stay if I wasn’t madly in love with you.”
For a moment, I can't speak. He says it soeasily.Then I reach up, frame his face with my hands, and pull him down for a kiss that tastes like joy and forever.
"I love you too," I whisper against his lips. "You impossible, grumpy, perfect mountain man."
He laughs, deep and rich and real, and lifts me off my feet, spinning me once before setting me down.
"Come on," he says, taking my hand. "Let's go inside before we freeze."
And as we step back into the warmth, into the light, I know I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.
Epilogue
