“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask softly, my voice carrying that quirky, hopeful lilt even though my heart feels a little heavy.
He turns slowly, those gorgeous eyes finding mine in the moonlight. His face is shadowed but I can see the tension in him, the way his shoulders are slightly hunched. He looks tough and beautiful and somehow sad all at once.
“Yeah,” he says, voice deep and ragged. “Just thinking.”
I step closer, the quilt trailing behind me like a cape. The snow on the porch crunches softly under my boots. “About?”
He huffs out a long breath, white in the cold air, and looks out over the moonlit mountain again. For a long moment he’s quiet. Then he speaks, his voice quieter than I’ve ever heard it.
“About a mission in Afghanistan. We were extracting a high-value target from a village at night. My best friend, Reyes, was on point with me. We’d been through everything together. He had my back more times than I can count. That night everything went wrong. Ambush. We got pinned down. I watched him take a round to the neck trying to cover me while I called in air support. I dragged him out of there myself. He died in my arms before the chopper arrived. Still remember the way his blood felt hot on my hands even though the desert night was freezing. I don’t talk about that. Not to anyone. Not ever.”
The words settle between us, heavy and raw. I move closer until I’m standing right beside him, the quilt brushing against his leg. The cold night air nips at my face, but being near him keeps me warm. I can feel thetension rolling off him in waves, the old pain he carries so quietly.
“That must have been really hard,” I whisper, reaching out to touch his arm gently. My fingers trace the flannel over his bicep, feeling the solid muscle underneath. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
He nods once, not looking at me. “Worst of it was when I came home and ran into his wife and kid. I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. I just stared at them. I’m a fucking idiot.”
I lean my head against his shoulder, breathing in the clean cold air and the warm scent of him. The connection between us feels deeper now, stronger. Like every word he shares is another thread tying us together.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sure she would have liked to talk to you,” I say softly.
He nods. “Yeah, maybe someday I’ll gather the courage to reach out.”
I rub a hand over his bicep. “I’m sure she’d like that.”
He smiles. “I’ve never told anyone this ever.”
“I’m happy you trusted me enough to share.”
He sucks in a deep breath and glances back out at themountain. “I trust my brotherhood of Marshals, but not like I trust you. You’re different.”
My heart squeezes. “I feel that way about you too. Sure I’ve got friends and my father, but nobody like you.” My thoughts drift to how I’ll never see anyone ever again. My mood sours. “The idea that soon I’ll be in witness protection. That they’ll give me a new name and send me somewhere far away. That I might never see you again.”
Mason turns toward me fully then. His dark eyes are intense in the moonlight, searching my face. For a moment he just looks at me, like he’s memorizing every detail. Then he reaches out and pulls me into his arms, wrapping me up completely in his strength. The quilt falls open slightly between us but his body heat chases away the cold. He holds me tight, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other pressed against my lower back.
“I don’t like it either, little one,” he murmurs into my hair, his voice rough with emotion. “I don’t like it one damn bit.”
I melt into his embrace, pressing my face into his chest. His heartbeat is steady and strong under my cheek. The night air is cold and clean around us, the snow sparklingunder the moon, but in his arms I feel completely safe. Completely home.
We stand there on the porch for a long time, wrapped up in each other as the mountain night settles quietly around us. The connection between us grows deeper with every shared breath, every silent moment. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring when the storm finally ends, but right now, in this moment, I know exactly where I belong.
Here. With him. On this mountain. In his arms.
And I never want to leave.
18
Mason
The axe comes down hard, the sharp blade biting deep into the frozen log with a solid, resounding thunk that echoes across the snowy clearing like a gunshot. A spray of white powder explodes upward around my boots, glittering in the weak morning sunlight before settling back down onto the fresh layer of snow. I set another thick piece of wood onto the chopping block, the rough bark cold and gritty under my gloved palm. I swing again, muscles burning under my flannel shirt as the axe head splits the log clean in two. The impact vibrates up through my arms and into my shoulders.
The cold morning air bites sharply at my exposed face and neck. My breath puffs out in thick white clouds with every powerful swing, dissipating quickly in the wind.The rhythm is steady. Familiar. Exactly what I need right now to quiet the storm raging inside my head.
I needed this space. I needed to get out of that warm cabin before I did something stupid like pull Riley back into my arms and never let her go. Because the truth is I’m feeling things I never thought I deserved to feel. Not after everything I’ve done in my life.
Not after the blood that still stains my hands and the ghosts that follow me into every quiet moment. She deserves so much better than a broken marshal who lives alone in the middle of nowhere. She deserves a nice, safe life. A new bakery somewhere bright and sunny where she can fill the air with the smell of fresh bread and cinnamon rolls every morning. Fresh starts, laughter, and all the romcom happiness she talks about with that bright, unstoppable sparkle in her eyes. Not a man like me, weighed down by too many scars and too much darkness.
Inside the cabin I can hear her moving around. The faint, cheerful clatter of pans and bowls drifts out through the slightly cracked door every time the wind shifts. The sweet, warm notes of whatever she's baking follow it, wrapping around me like a gentle hand squeezing something deep inside. She’s in there creating something beautiful, humming softly to herself, whileI’m out here splitting wood like a madman trying to remind myself why I can’t keep her.
