“She would do that too.” I shook my head. Of course she would rather walk away than let this place go.
“Is she still there? There’s one option the lawyer didn’t mention.”
“She’s at the gas station now, but Grant, what option are you talking about?”
“We can live here together.”
I hung up and shoved my phone into my pocket, already running for the front door, and toward Walt’s old truck.
She was willing to give up the cabin rather than see it sold. Whatever stupid shit I’d said to her yesterday—out of anger or fear or whatever the hell it was—had been wrong. She deserved an apology. More than that, she deserved to know I wouldn’t give her up that easily.
I could have stayed quiet. I could have stayed put, sat on the couch, and kept the cabin. That had been the plan, even after she’d barged into my life and dropped the bomb about the will. But it didn’t feel the same anymore. Not after her.
I needed to talk to her. Now.
I pulled into the gas station and saw Kara standing at the pump, talking to Hank. Looks like he’d stalled her. I really should stop giving him so much shit.
“Kara!” I yelled out the truck window before I’d even come to a stop.
Her head snapped up at the sound of her name. She lookedwrung out—hair in a messy bun, clothes wrinkled, eyes red. She’d either been crying, hadn’t slept, or both.
I parked crooked against the curb, jumped out of the truck, and ran toward her.
“You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?” I was aware that there were a few people milling around, watching the exchange but for once I didn’t care if I had an audience.
She cleared her throat. “I thought we’d said all we needed to say.”
“I’m not one for a lot of talking, but even I know we’ve got things left unsaid.”
“So go ahead,” she said. “Say it.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “You can’t go.”
Hank took the hint and made himself scarce, shooing people along as he went.
“I have to,” she said quietly. “You don’t know the whole story.”
I shook my head. “We’re not letting the cabin get sold, Kara. No matter what. You don’t have to give it to me, and you don’t have to leave.”
Her brow creased. “How did you—”
“Hank called me.” I swallowed. “He made me see things differently. Even if you use a fishing guide, it’s still you who catches the fish. I want the fish, Kara.”
She blinked. “Wait—am I the guide, or—”
“We’re both the fish and the fisherman.”
She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her mouth, but it was melancholy. “I don’t know what that means. But I can’t start my new life by ruining yours. Uncle Walt wanted you to have the cabin. And I do too. I have to go.”
I forced out a breath. I was messing this up.
“Let me try again. Whether we found each other on our ownor were pushed together by Walt doesn’t matter. What matters is what we feel now.”
She nodded. “You’re right, and you feel like you need to be alone. I feel like my new start can’t happen if it hurts you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to be alone, not anymore, and the only way your new start would hurt me is if it happens somewhere I can’t wake up to you every morning.”
Her eyes softened. “Is that what passes for romance from a mountain man?”
