“Yeah. Phern was just telling me about Elijah Stone’s wife, Mary.”
“Ah.”
I move closer to him, holding onto his coat. “I guess what I’m saying is that everything got real this morning, but I’m not running.”
His face lights up like I just handed him the sun.
“Glad to hear it, darlin’,” he says, voice low, full of that slow Wyoming drawl that turns my insides to honey.
I’m still holding the front of his coat, the thick fabric bunched in my fists like I need something to anchor me. And maybe I do. Maybe he is.
One hand comes up to cup the side of my neck, his thumb brushing just under my jaw. “I know it’s been fast. I know it’s been a lot. But I haven’t questioned a damn thingsince the moment I saw you drive into that flood like a goddamn tornado in city boots.”
That makes me laugh. “You make it sound romantic and not clearly idiotic.”
He grins. “It is romantic. You crashed into my life in the middle of a storm, Charlie. And I haven’t wanted to let you go since.”
My chest tightens, eyes burning again. But this time, the tears aren’t fear. They’re relief.
“Good,” I whisper. “Because I don’t want to go.”
He leans in, forehead touching mine, breath warm and steady. “Then don’t.”
And just like that, the ice inside me cracks. Melts. Flows.
His mouth brushes mine soft and sure. Not claiming. Just there. Like a promise.
Behind us, the wind rattles a few loose icicles from the eaves, and the sun glints off the fresh path he carved through the snow. A way forward.
And suddenly, I can see it.
A life not built in fear or escape.
But in choice.
Our choice.
And I choose him.
16
We spend the rest of the day clearing the driveway up to the bridge. I laugh when I see just how far from the road I was when the Prius got stuck.
“My god. No wonder you saw me coming.”
Sam grins. “Had to see who was tearin’ up my yard.”
Phern says, “You’re really lucky he saw you, Charlotte. That could have been bad.”
There’s a haunted look in her eyes, and Sam reaches over, throwing his arm around her shoulder.
“It’s okay, sis. Everyone is fine.”
She hums and moves from his embrace to move some debris.
“What’s that about?” I ask in a low tone.
“I’ll tell you later.”
