She emerges from the bathroom, hair damp, wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even rumpled and makeshift, she’s beautiful.
“Coffee?” I offer.
“Please. Black is fine.”
I pour her a cup, and we stand at the counter together, looking out at the valley. The view from here stretches for miles. Forest and meadow and mountain rising in the distance.
“I could get used to this,” she says quietly.
“The view?”
She looks at me. “All of it.”
My heart pounds in my chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She sets her cup down, turns to face me fully. “I know this is fast. I know we probably should slow down, be reasonable, think about what this means. But Duke… I don’t want to.”
“Neither do I.”
“I have to go back,” she continues. “To the city. To my job. My life is there.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen. Or that it was just a one-night stand. Because it doesn’t feel like that to me.”
I set my own cup aside, giving her my full attention. “What does it feel like?”
She takes a breath. “It feels like the beginning of something. And I want to see where it goes.”
Relief floods through me. “Good. Because I feel the same way.”
She smiles, that warm genuine smile that makes her eyes light up. “We’re really doing this?”
“If you want to.”
“I want to,” she says without hesitation. “I really, really want to.”
I pull her against me, and she comes willingly, fitting perfectly against my chest. This feels right in a way I can’t explain. In a way I’ve never felt before.
I’ve spent twelve years on this mountain. Twelve years of learning its patterns, understanding its rhythms. I thought I knew everything important about my life, about what I wanted.
But standing here with Trista in my arms, I realize I was wrong.
I didn’t know what I was missing until I found her.
Chapter Five
Trista
Istaythreemoredays.
I tell myself it’s practical. That I should see more of the area, get familiar with the trails, understand what Nate loved about this place.
But that’s only part of the truth.
The real truth is that I don’t want to leave. Don’t want to step away from Duke and whatever this is that’s building between us.
I tag along with him to work, and we spend the days hiking. He shows me trails I never would have found on my own, pointing out signs I would have missed. Animal tracks in the mud. Scat that tells him what passed through and when. The subtle way thevegetation changes with elevation. The sound the wind makes when weather is coming.
