“Smells wonderful.” Doreen inhaled the aroma as she accepted the cup.
“Let’s go and sit by the fire,” Sorcha suggested, leading the way to the living room.
The hearth crackled with a cheerful blaze, casting dancing shadows across the polished wood floor. Bash had abandoned outside work and instead claimed a spot in front of the hearth, stretching out with a contented sigh. From somewhere at the back of the cabin came the distant sound of Jake’s excited voice and Christopher’s deeper responses, the rhythm of their conversation easy and companionable.
Doreen sank into a comfortable armchair, cradling her mug between her palms. The tea was surprisingly good, sweet with honey and warming from the ginger, and oh so soothing. Just what she needed.
Perhaps if she lived in a place like this, she might switch from coffee to tea. Not just for the drink, but for the slower, quieter life that came with it.
Sorcha curled up on the sofa opposite, tucking her feet beneath herself as she studied Doreen’s face with that knowing look only a lifelong friend could give. Her head tilted slightly, auburn hair falling over one shoulder.
“You look different…” Sorcha began. “Did something happen?”
Heat rushed to Doreen’s cheeks. Was it that obvious? She focused intently on her tea, avoiding Sorcha’s eyes. “It’s all this mountain air. James came by this morning,” she admitted. “For Bash’s training.”
Sorcha’s smile brightened considerably, her eyes sparkling with interest. She pressed her mug to her chest, leaning forward slightly. “And?”
The blush deepened, spreading down Doreen’s neck. “And nothing,” she protested weakly. “The training went well. Jake loved it. Bash is actually listening to commands now.” She tooka sip of tea, buying herself a moment to compose herself. “And James is... very good with them both.”
“Just with them?” Sorcha prompted, her voice teasing.
Doreen sighed, giving in. “Fine. I enjoyed it too. More than expected.” The admission felt both terrifying and freeing. “He’s... a good man.”
“In what way?”
“He’s gentle. Patient.” Doreen traced the rim of her mug with one finger. “And he looks at me sometimes like…” She broke off, because saying the rest—like she was worth looking at—might make all of this too real.
Sorcha leaned forward, her expression softening into something more serious. “You know,” she said, her voice taking on a confiding tone, “Christopher only stayed in Bear Creek because his car broke down.”
Doreen looked up, surprised by the change in subject. “Really?”
Sorcha nodded, her eyes distant with memory. “He was just passing through. Got stranded in a big snowstorm…” She smiled, a private smile that made Doreen feel like she was glimpsing something precious. “He came here to stay at Bear Creek Cabins, but the place, and the people, got under his skin...” She paused, her gaze returning to Doreen. “And he found himself.”
“Is that what happened to you?” Doreen asked gently.
“I’m not sure if I’ve thought about whether I found myself,” Sorcha said. “But I guess in finding Christopher, I did. Because you know this small-town life was never for me.”
“But now it is?” Doreen asked.
“Now, it’s everything I want and more.” Sorcha’s eyes misted with tears as she turned and looked in the direction ofChristopher’s voice. “It’s like this is the life I always wanted but never allowed myself.”
“Why?” Doreen asked.
“You know how my mom felt about small-town life…” Sorcha began.
“No, I mean, why do you think you never allowed yourself to want this?” Doreen held her breath.
Sorcha’s life in so many ways mirrored her own. Different details, same pattern—telling yourself you didn’t want the thing you were secretly terrified to lose.
Sorcha wrapped her hands around her mug, her eyes growing thoughtful. “I think I was afraid. Afraid that wanting something simple would make me simple. That choosing a quiet life meant I wasn’t ambitious enough.” She laughed softly. “You know my mom always pushed me to want more, go further, climb higher. In her eyes, small towns were places you escaped from, not places you chose. I suppose I saw choosing this as a betrayal. But I was wrong.”
“I get that,” Doreen said quietly. “After Walt, I convinced myself that wanting a partner was a weakness. That I was stronger alone.”
“And now?”
Doreen sighed as she stared into the fire. “Now I don’t know what to think. James is... unexpected.”
“The best things usually are,” Sorcha said, leaning back against the cushions. “You know what Christopher told me when I was panicking about staying here? He said sometimes the universe delivers exactly what you need, not what you thought you wanted.”
