Page 129 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

“I’m not making promises I can’t keep, Clara,” he says quietly. “I’m telling you now, I choose you. Right now. I choose you.”

Oh God.

This might be worse.

Because choosing means he could also change his mind and not choose me.

Choosing means it’s real.

Choosing means I have something to lose.

He kisses me softly, then pulls out of me carefully.

“Stay,” he murmurs and leaves the bed while the mess we made starts to trail down my thighs.

But then he’s right there, cleaning me gently with a damp rag, and dropping a kiss on my curls after.

I gasp.

“What?”

“Nothing. No one’s ever—um,” I cover my face, but he doesn’t let me hide. He pulls my hands away, gently and climbs back into bed.

“For the record, I’ll listen to anything you tell me. Anything you wanna say about other men who’ve been in your life. But if you do that don’t be surprised if I ask for their names and addresses,” he says with a straight face.

“What? Oh my God. You’re crazy.”

I giggle and curl closer to him.

“Crazy about you, Trouble. Now get some sleep,” he says and wraps his arms around me, hugging me close.

I go willingly.

Because the alternative—walking away from this warmth, this honesty, this terrifying possibility—feels unbearable.

So I stay. I let him hold me. And I let my mind wander.

Outside, the mountain stands watch. Maybe Scar does, too.

Inside, it’s just us.

Two stubborn people with too much history and too many scars of our own, lying in the dark, listening to each other breathe.

And for the first time in a very long time—I let myself believe maybe this time I’ll get my happy ending.

Chapter 26

Greyson

A few days have passed since the carnival date, and I’ve seen Clara every single day—and it’s been amazing.

She is amazing.

Today I’m picking her up and taking her to Evan’s Little League game.

And I’m more nervous about that than I was about asking her out.

Thatcher coaches like he always does—arms crossed, jaw tight, barking instructions like these eight-year-olds are one bad inning away from the majors.