Page 93 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

I should’ve fixed it up years ago.

The thought hits me out of nowhere.

Why am I even thinking about this?

Because women change shit.

That’s the truth.

They see empty corners and imagine curtains. See rough edges and picture sanding them smooth.

And I’ve built my life around not changing.

Around staying still.

But lately?

I don’t want to hide anymore.

I don’t want to just survive.

I want to live.

I want to be brave enough to choose my life instead of letting fear choose it for me.

But first—I have to apologize.

So I get my ass to the sawmill and I wait.

I pretend I’m just stopping by.

Pretend I don’t feel like my heart’s trying to claw out of my chest.

When I see her Jeep pull into the lot, I grin despite myself.

Brand new. Shiny. And bright fucking yellow.

Someone must’ve traded in their Tesla.

Good.

She doesn’t belong stranded on mountain roads, anyway.

Not her.

Clara is the kind of woman who conquers them.

While I waited these last two days, I did my homework.

Clara Belle isn’t some naïve blogger chasing clicks.

Her family owns Belle Networking Group. She grew up in rooms with more money than I did.

But she didn’t turn into one of them.

The people I grew up with and ran from.

Clara’s parents? They’re solid.