Page 57 of Mountain Men’s Nanny

“I love you,” I whispered. I didn’t know why I said it, or what I expected to gain from it, but the feeling was just so overwhelming, so quick that I wouldn’t have known how to stop it even if I could.

“I love you too,” she whispered, kissing me softly on the lips.

Then she rolled over and straddled Gunner.

27

Decisions

~

Brie

The sky was finally clear, clear enough for me to get a signal on my cellphone. I was woken up by vibrating and pinging from under my pillow. Texts, missed calls, and voice messages, mainly from Holly, each one more panicked than the last.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Our roles had changed so much. I had always been the over-thinker, texting and calling, wondering where she was, if she was safe. And now it was her turn. Granted, she had never gone AWOL for months out in the mountains, living with strangers she knew nothing about before moving in with them. My life had become wild and free, and I hadn’t had a moment to keep her in the loop.

I dialed her number and lay back down on my pillow, listening as the phone rang. Three rings, and then her distraught answer.

“Brie? Oh, thank God! Are you okay? I didn’t know if you were alive. Please tell me you’re okay.”

I knew she was worried; I just hadn’t considered how much. I closed my eyes, and I was back in my apartment, lying in bed, catching up with her. It was a ritual we kept at least twice a week, even though we worked at the same hospital and met up regularly to keep up with the big things. We were both busy, living between shifts, sometimes only catching up on her way out and my way in, or my way out and her way in. Over the phone is where our real friendship happened.

“Hey, I’m great, actually. It’s the signal out here. It’s so unpredictable, and with the weather, it’s been impossible.” I smiled.

The familiarity of her voice, the sounds of the locker room at work, the door opening and closing, exhausted conversations, and frustrated complaints. In my mind, I was back there with her, catching up like we used to.

“When are you coming home? The investigation is over, and no one was at fault. There is nothing to run from anymore,” Holly said.

She wasn’t celebrating. She didn’t even sound happy. Even after I explained why I was out of touch, she was still worried about me.

“I’m not running anymore, Holly,” I confessed. “I was running in the beginning, but now things are different. I’m… happy here. I look after this little girl, Lexi. She’s so smart, knows everything you could ever want to know about wild mushrooms and bears. Her dad, Tobias, was pretty strict when I first got here. He’s grown on me. Soft on the inside, you know. Tender, protective. He’s gone through some really crazy stuff and came out here to get away from it all, just like I did.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, letting me know she was still listening. I could hear her move through the hospital. The automatic doors opened and closed, and then the sound of traffic. Taxis, cars, and bicycles zooming past, people crowding the sidewalk.

“There’s also Gideon, technically.”

“Who?”

"He’s Tobias’s bodyguard, but actually his best friend. It’s an odd dynamic, but I think I get it now. Gideon is the one person he could always depend on, and he trusts him with everything. Then there’s Gunner,” I laughed.

The worry in Holly’s tone grew sharper, mixed with confusion. “How many men are you up there with? Are you sure you’re okay? Is this a hostage situation? I can call the police. Blink twice if you want me to call the cops.”

“You can’t see my face, so what’s the point of blinking?” My amusement floated through the soft silence of my bedroom. “Besides, there’s no need.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gunner is a free spirit. A hunter, a log man, the quintessential mountain man, more comfortable out in the woods than indoors.” I fidgeted with the edge of my pillow. “They’re just a bunch of good guys. That’s all.”

Holly hummed again, but this time there was more to it; I could tell. After all the years we’ve been friends, I could read the subtle changes in her tone even if she didn’t use any actual words, just hums that would sound like conversational intonations to anyone else. It was an entire statement to me.

“I can’t imagine ever meeting anyone like them back home, in the city,” I said.

“Sounds like this has become more than just an escape,” she said. I heard her apartment door open and close. The convenience of having everything close by seemed like a distant memory. Half-forgotten.

And this was more than just an escape. She was right. It was a whole new life. Being out here had changed me, made it impossible to ever fully go back to who I was when I first came to the cabin. That scared, anxious woman was gone. I was nothing like her.

“It is,” I admitted. “I don’t know if I can fit into my old life again.”