Page 84 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

I shut my mouth.

He steps closer, voice quieter but sharper.

“I know you got your own issues, Grey. No one chooses to live on a mountain away from the rest of the world because they’re fine and fucking dandy,” he says.

I snort. He’s not wrong.

But I don’t want to talk about my fucking issues with him.

“It’s not my business, brother. But Willow likes Clara. They’re friends. And my wife hasn’t had much of that in her life.”

I understand now. His investment in this is his wife’s happiness. Not some out-of-place feelings he has for Clara, which makes me breathe easier.

Just knowing that sets some primal part of me at peace.

And I know I have no business feeding that feeling. I have no claim on Clara Belle.

But even thinking it feels like a lie.

“You’re the one who called me to pick her up, Grey,” Thatcher continues, oblivious to the war I’m having within myself. “You were done with her. And if being married taught me anything, it’s being mindful of how women feel. You made that woman feel like she didn’t matter. Then you show up in here and start barking like you own her and the whole damn mountain?—”

“Do you have a fucking point, Thatch? I was there, I know what I fucking said.”

“I guess I’m just asking, are you surprised she threw water at you?”

My jaw tightens.

Asshole.

He might be right, but he’s still a prick.

“She shouldn’t be here.”

Thatcher’s brows lift.

“That’s it? That’s your line? That’s what you’re going with?”

“She’s—” I drag a hand through my hair, frustration sparking. “She’s got a whole life out there. A career. A loyal fucking following. She’s a city girl, Thatch. People like her, and she likes them. She brings attention,” I say the last part likes it a sin, and yes, I know how fucking stupid that makes me.

Thatcher watches me like he’s trying to decide whether to punch me or hug me.

“You know what she brings, Grey?” he asks finally. “She brings choices. She brings joy. Hell, she brings a fuckup hermit like you back to life. But you gotta grab your balls if you want to earn a spot in hers.”

I flinch like he hit the mark dead center.

Thatcher leans in, voice dropping.

“Truth is, whatever you’re running from, it’ll catch up with you eventually. And that’s got nothing to do with Clara.”

“Thatch, you don’t know?—”

“I don’t, and that’s fine. But be honest. You didn’t kick that woman out to protect her from your world. You kicked her out because you’re scared she’ll see the real you and decide you’re not worth staying for.”

My throat tightens.

I hate that he can say it so plainly.

I hate that he’s right.